The sentiment of Horace applies not here--

------------ridentem dicere verum

Quid vetat?

The serious writings of Dr. Byles are singularly free from everything,

suggestive of frivolous association. In his pulpit, there was none of it;

not a jot; while, out of it, unless on solemn occasions, there was very

little else. I have heard from those, who knew him well, that he ransacked

the whole vocabulary, in search of the materials for punning. Yet of his

attempts, in this species of humor, few examples are remembered. The

specimens of the wit and humor of this eccentric divine, which have been

preserved, are often of a different character; and not a few of them of

that description, which are called practical jokes. Some of these

pleasantries were exceedingly clever, and others supremely ridiculous. It

is now more than half a century, since I listened to the first, amusing

anecdote of Mather Byles. Many have reached me since--some of them quite

as clever, as any we have ever had--I will not say from Foote, or Hook, or

Matthews; for such unclerical comparisons would be particularly

odious--but quite as clever as anything from Jonathan Swift, or Sydney

Smith. Suppose I convert my next number into a penny box, for the

collection and safe keeping of these petty records--I know they are below

the dignity of history--so is a very large proportion of all the thoughts,

words, and actions of Kings and Emperors--I'll think of it.

No. XCIV.

There were political sympathies, during the American Revolution, between

that eminent physician and excellent man, Dr. James Lloyd, and Mather

Byles; yet, some forty-three years ago, I heard Dr. Lloyd remark, that, in

company, the Reverend Mather Byles was a most troublesome puppy; and that

there was no peace for his punning. Dr. Lloyd was, doubtless, of opinion,

with Lord Kaimes, who remarked, in relation to this inveterate habit, that

few might object to a little salt upon their plates, but the man must

have an extraordinary appetite, who could make a meal of it.

The daily employment of our mental powers, for the discovery of words,

which agree in sound, but differ in sense, is a species of intellectual

huckstering, well enough adapted to the capacities of those, who are unfit

for business, on a larger scale. If this occupation could be made _to

pay_, many an oysterman would be found, forsaking his calling, and

successfully competing with those, who will not suffer ten words to be

uttered, in their company, without converting five of them, at least, to

this preposterous purpose.

No conversation can be so grave, or so solemn, as to secure it from the

rude and impertinent interruption of some one of these pleasant fellows;

who seem to employ their little gift upon the community, as a species of

laughing gas. A little of this may be well enough; but, like musk, in the

gross, it is absolutely suffocating.

The first story, that I ever heard, of Mather Byles, was related, at my

father's table, by the Rev. Dr. Belknap, in 1797, the year before he died.

It was upon a Saturday; and Dr. John Clarke and some other gentlemen,

among whom I well remember Major General Lincoln, ate their salt fish

there, that day. I was a boy; and I remember their mirth, when, after Dr.

Belknap had told the story, I said to our minister, Dr. Clarke, near whom

I was eating my apple, that I wished he was half as funny a minister, as

Dr. Byles.

Upon a Fast day, Dr. Byles had negotiated an exchange, with a country

clergyman. Upon the appointed morning, each of them--for vehicles were not

common then--proceeded, on horseback, to his respective place of

appointment. Dr. Byles no sooner observed his brother clergyman

approaching, at a distance, than he applied the whip; put his horse into a

gallop; and, with his canonicals flying all abroad, passed his friend, at

full run. "_What is the matter?_" he exclaimed, raising his hand in

astonishment--"_Why so fast, brother Byles?_"--to which the Dr., without

slackening his speed, replied, over his shoulder--"_It is Fast day!_"

This is, unquestionably, very funny--but it is surely undesirable, for a

consecrated servant of the Lord, thus lavishly to sacrifice, upon the

altars of Momus.

The distillery of Thomas Hill was at the corner of Essex and South

Streets, not far from Dr. Belknap's residence in Lincoln Street. Dr. Byles

called on Mr. Hill, and inquired--"Do you still?"--"That is my business,"

Mr. Hill replied.--"Then," said Dr. Byles--"will you go with me, and still

my wife?"

As he was once occupied, in nailing some list upon his doors, to exclude

the cold, a parishioner said to him--"the wind bloweth wheresoever it

listeth, Dr. Byles."--"Yes sir," replied the Dr. "and man listeth,

wheresoever the wind bloweth."

He was intimate with General Knox, who was a bookseller, before the war.

When the American troops took possession of the town, after the

evacuation, Knox, who had become quite corpulent, marched in, at the head

of his artillery. As he passed on, Byles, who thought himself privileged,

on old scores, exclaimed, loud enough to be heard--"_I never saw an ox

fatter in my life_." But Knox was not in the vein. He felt offended by

this freedom, especially from Byles, who was then well known to be a tory;

and replied, in uncourtly terms, that he was a "---- fool."

In May, 1777, Dr. Byles was arrested, as a tory, and subsequently tried,

convicted, and sentenced to confinement, on board a guard ship, and to be

sent to England with his family, in forty days. This sentence was changed,

by the board of war, to confinement in his own house. A guard was placed

over him. After a time, the sentinel was removed--afterwards replaced--and

again removed--when the Dr. exclaimed, that _he had been

guarded--regarded--and disregarded_. He called his sentry his

_observ-a-tory_.

Perceiving, one morning, that the sentinel, a simple fellow, was absent,

and seeing Dr. Byles himself, pacing before his own door, with a musket on

his shoulder, the neighbors stepped over, to inquire the cause--"_You

see_," said the Dr., "_I begged the sentinel to let me go for some milk

for my family, but he would not suffer me to stir. I reasoned the matter

with him; and he has gone, himself, to get it for me, on condition that I

keep guard in his absence._"

When he was very poor, and had no money to waste on follies, he caused the

little room, in which he read and wrote, to be painted brown, that he

might say to every visitor--"_You see I am in a brown study_."

His family, having gone to rest, were roused one night, by the reiterated

cry of _thieves!--thieves!_ in the doctor's loudest voice--the wife and

daughters sprang instantly from their beds, and rushed into the

room--there sat the Dr. alone, in his study chair--"_Where, father?_"

cried the astonished family--"_there!_" he exclaimed, pointing to the

candles.

One bitter December night, he called his daughters from their bed, simply

to inquire if they lay warm.

He had a small collection of curiosities. Some visitors called, one

morning; and Mrs. Byles, unwilling to be found at her ironing board, and

desiring to hide herself, as she would not be so caught, by these ladies,

for the world, the doctor put her in a closet, and buttoned her in. After

a few remarks, the ladies expressed a wish to see the Dr's curiosities,

which he proceeded to exhibit; and, after entertaining them very

agreeably, for several hours, he told them he had kept the greatest

curiosity to the last; and, proceeding to the closet, unbuttoned the door,

and exhibited Mrs. Byles.

He had complained, long, often, and fruitlessly, to the selectmen, of a

quagmire, in front of his dwelling. One morning, two of the fathers of the

town, after a violent rain, passing with their chaise, became stuck in

this bog. As they were striving to extricate themselves, and pulling to

the right and to the left, the doctor came forth, and bowing, with great

politeness, exclaimed--"_I am delighted, gentlemen, to see you stirring in

this matter, at last_."

A candidate for fame proposed to fly, from the North Church steeple, and

had already mounted, and was clapping his wings, to the great delight of

the mob. Dr. Byles, mingling with the crowd, inquired what was the object

of the gathering--"_We have come, sir_," said some one, "_to see a man

fly_."--"_Poh, poh_," replied the doctor, "_I have seen a horse-fly_."

A gentleman sent Dr. Byles a barrel of very fine oysters. Meeting the

gentleman's wife, an hour or two after, in the street, the doctor assumed

an air of great severity, and told her, that he had, that morning, been

treated, by her husband, in a most _Billingsgate_ manner, and then

abruptly left her. The lady, who was of a nervous temperament, went home

in tears, and was quite miserable, till her husband returned, at noon, and

explained the occurrence; but was so much offended with the doctor's

folly, that he cut his acquaintance.

A poor fellow, in agony with the toothache, meeting the doctor, asked him

where he should go, to have it drawn. The doctor gave him a direction to

a particular street and number. The man went, as directed; and, when the

occupant came to the door, told him that Dr. Byles had sent him there, to

have his tooth drawn. "_This is a poor joke, for Dr. Byles_," said the

gentleman; "_I am not a dentist, but a portrait painter--it will give you

little comfort, my friend, to have me draw your tooth_." Dr. Byles had

sent the poor fellow to Copley.

Upon the 19th of May, 1780, the memorable dark day, a lady wrote to the

doctor as follows--"_Dear doctor, how do you account for this darkness?_"

and received his immediate reply--"_Dear Madam, I am as much in the dark,

as you are_." This, for sententious brevity, has never been surpassed,

unless by the correspondence, between the comedian, Sam Foote, and his

mother--"_Dear Sam, I'm in jail_"--"_Dear Mother, So am I._"

He had, at one time, a remarkably stupid, and literal, Irish girl, as a

domestic. With a look and voice of terror, he said to her, in haste--"_Go

and say to your mistress, Dr. Byles has put an end to himself_." The girl

flew up stairs, and, with a face of horror, exclaimed, at the top of her

lungs--"_Dr. Byles has put an end to himself!_" The astonished wife and

daughters rushed into the parlor--and there was the doctor, calmly walking

about, with a part of a cow's tail, that he had picked up, in the street,

tied to his coat, or cassock, behind.

From the time of the stamp act, in 1765, to the period of the revolution,

the cry had been repeated, in every form of phraseology, that our

_grievances_ should be _redressed_. One fine morning, when the multitude

had gathered on the Common, to see a regiment of red coats, paraded there,

who had recently arrived--"_Well_," said the doctor, gazing at the

spectacle, "_I think we can no longer complain_, that our _grievances_ are

not _red dressed_." "_True_," said one of the laughers, who were standing

near, "_but you have two ds, Dr. Byles_." "_To be sure, sir, I have_," the

doctor instantly replied, "I had them from _Aberdeen_, in 1765."

These pleasantries will, probably, survive "THE CONFLAGRATION." Had not

this eccentric man possessed some very excellent and amiable qualities, he

could not have maintained his clerical relation to the Hollis-Street

Church and Society, for three and forty years, from 1733 to 1776; and have

separated from them, at last, for political considerations alone.

Had his talents and his influence been greater than they were, the

peculiarities, to which I have alluded, would have been a theme, for

deeper deprecation. The eccentricities of eminent men are mischievous, in

the ratio of their eminence; for thousands, who cannot rival their

excellencies, are often the successful imitators of their peculiarities

and follies.

I never sympathized with that worthy, old lady, who became satisfied, that

Dr. Beecher was a terrible hypocrite, and without a spark of vital

religion, because she saw him, from her window, on the Lord's day, in his

back yard, gymnasticising, on a pole, in the intermission season; and

thereby invigorating his powers, for the due performance of the evening

services. Yet, as character is power, and as the children of this

generation have a devilish pleasure in detecting inconsistencies, between

the practice and the profession of the children of light--it is ever to be

deplored, that clergymen should hazard one iota of their clerical

respectability, for the love of fun; and it speaks marvels, for the moral

and religious worth of Mather Byles, and for the forbearance,

intelligence, and discrimination of his parishioners, that, for

three-and-forty years, he maintained his ministerial position, in their

midst, cutting such wild, unpriestly capers, and giving utterance to such

amusing fooleries, from morning to night.

No. XCV.

I have already referred to the subject of being buried alive. There is

something very terrible in the idea; and I am compelled, by some recent

information, to believe, that occurrences of this distressing nature are

more common, than I have hitherto supposed them to be.

Not long ago, I fell into the society of a veteran, maiden lady, who, in

the course of her evening revelations of the gossip she had gathered in

the morning, informed the company, that an entire family, consisting of a

husband, wife, and seven children, were buried alive.

You have heard, or read, I doubt not, of that eminent French surgeon, who,

while standing by the bedside of his dying friend and patron, utterly

forgot all his professional cares and duties, in his exceeding great joy,

at beholding, for the first time in his life, the genuine Sardonic grin,

exhibited upon the distorted features of his dying benefactor. For a

moment, my sincere sorrow, for the terrible fate of this interesting

family, was utterly forgotten, in the delight I experienced, at the

prospect of receiving such an interesting item, for my dealings with the

dead.

My tablets were out, in an instant--and, drawing my chair near that of

this communicative lady, I requested a relation of all the particulars. My

astonishment was very much increased, when she asserted, that they had

actually buried themselves--and my utter disappointment--as an artist--can

scarcely be conceived, when she added, that the whole family had gone to

reside permanently in the country, giving up plays, concerts, balls,

soirees and operas.

Putting up my tablets, with a feeling of displeasure, illy concealed, I

ventured to suggest, that opportunities, for intellectual improvement,

were not wanting in the country; and that, perhaps, this worthy family

preferred the enjoyment of rural quiet, to the miscellaneous cries of

fire--oysters--and murder. She replied, that she had rather be murdered

outright, than live in the country--listen to the frogs, from morning to

night--and watch the progress of cucumbers and squashes.

Seriously, this matter of being buried alive, is very unpleasant. The

dead, the half-dead, and the dying, were brutally neglected, in the

earlier days of Greece. Diogenes Laertius, lib. 8, _de vita et moribus

philosophorum_, relates, that Empedocles, having restored Ponthia, a woman

of Agrigentum, to life, who was on the point of being buried, laws began

to be enacted, for the protection of the apparent dead. At Athens, no one

could be buried, before the third day; and, commonly, throughout all

Greece, burial and cremation were deferred, till the sixth or seventh day.

Alexander kept Hephestion's body, till the tenth day. I have referred, in

a former number, to the remarkable cases of Aviola and the Praetor Lamia,

who revived, after being placed on the funeral pile. Another Praetor,

Tubero, was saved, at the moment, when the torch was about to be applied.

I have also alluded to the act of Asclepiades, who, in disregard of the

ridicule of the bystanders, stopped a funeral procession, and reanimated

the body, about to be burnt.

A perusal of the _Somnium Scipionis_, and of the accounts of Hildanus,

Camerarius, and Horstius--of Plato, in his Republic--and of Valerius

Maximus, will satisfy the reader, that premature burials were, by no

means, uncommon, of old.

The idea of reviving in one's coffin--one of Fisk and Raymond's "_Patent

Metallic Burial Cases, Air-Tight and Indestructible_"--is really awful!

How truly, upon such an awakening as this, the wretch must wish he had

been born a savage--a Mandan of the upper Missouri--neither to be burnt

nor buried--but placed upon a mat, supported by poles--aloof from the

accursed wolves and undertakers--with a reasonable supply of pemmican and

corncake, and a calabash of water, by his side!

The dread of such an occurrence has induced some very sensible people, to

prefer cremation to earth and tomb burial. Of this we have a remarkable

example, in our own country. An infant daughter of Henry Laurens, the

first President of Congress, had, to all appearance, died of the small

pox. She was, accordingly, laid out, and prepared for the grave. A window,

which, during her illness, had been kept carefully closed, having been

opened after the body was shrouded, and a stream of air blowing freshly

into the apartment, the child revived, and the robes of death were

joyfully exchanged, for her ordinary garments. This event naturally

produced a strong impression, upon the father's mind. By his will, Mr.

Laurens enjoined it upon his children, as a solemn duty, that his body

should be burnt; and this injunction was duly fulfilled.

In former numbers, I have referred the reader to various authorities, upon

this interesting subject. I will offer a brief quotation from a sensible

writer--"According to the present usage, as soon as the semblance of death

appears, the chamber is deserted, by friends, relatives, and physicians,

and the apparently dead, though frequently living, body is committed to

the management of an ignorant or unfeeling nurse, whose care extends no

further than laying the limbs straight, and securing her accustomed

perquisites. The bed clothes are immediately removed, and the body is

exposed to the air. This, _when cold_, must extinguish any spark of life,

that may remain, and which, by a different treatment, might have been

kindled into a flame; or it may only continue to repress it, and the

unhappy person revive amidst the horrors of the tomb."--"Coldness,

heaviness of the body, a leaden, livid color, with a yellowness in the

visage," says the same author, "are all very uncertain signs." Mr.

Zimmerman observed them all, upon the body of a criminal, who fainted,

through the dread of the punishment he had merited. He was shaken, dragged

about, and turned, in the same manner dead bodies are, without the least

sign of resistance: and yet, at the end of twenty-four hours, he was

recalled to life, by means of volatile alkali.

In 1777, Dr. William Hawes, the founder of the Humane Society in London,

published an address, on premature interment. This is a curious and

valuable performance. I cannot here withhold the statement, that this

excellent man, before the formation of the Humane Society, for several

years, offered rewards, and paid them from his own purse, for the rescue

of persons from drowning, between Westminster and London bridge. Dr. Hawes

remarks, that the appearance of death has often been mistaken for the

reality, in apoplectic, and fainting fits, and those, arising from any

violent agitation of the mind, and from the free use of opium and

spirituous liquors. Children, he observes, have often been restored, who

have apparently died in convulsions. In case of fevers, in weak habits, or

when the cure has been chiefly attempted, by means of depletion, the

patient often sinks into a state, resembling death; and the friends, in

the opinion of Dr. Hawes, have been fatally deceived. In small pox, he

remarks, when the pustules sink, and death apparently ensues, means of

restoration should by no means be neglected.

In Lord Bacon's _Historia Vitae et Mortis_, a passage occurs,

commencing--"Complura fuerunt exempla hominum, tanquam mortuorum, aut

expositorum e lecto, aut delatorum ad funus, quinetiam nonnullorum in

terra conditorum, qui nihilominus revixerunt," etc. But the passage is

rather long, and in a dead language; and my professional experience has

admonished me to be economical of space, and to occupy, for every dead

subject, long or short, as little room, as possible. I therefore give an

English version, of whose sufficiency the reader may judge, by glancing at

the original, vol. viii. p. 447, Lond. 1824.--There were many examples,

says Lord Bacon, of men, supposed to be dead, taken from their beds as

corpses, or borne to their graves, some of them actually buried, who,

nevertheless, revived. This fact, in regard to such as were buried, has

been proved, upon re-opening their graves; by the bruises and wounds upon

their heads; and by the manifest evidences of tossing about, and

struggling in their coffins. John Scott, a man of genius, and a scholar,

furnishes a very recent and remarkable example; who, shortly after his

burial, was disinterred, and found, in that condition, by his servant, who

was absent at the time of Mr. Scott's interment, and well acquainted, it

seems, with those symptoms of catalepsy, to which he was liable.

A like event happened, in my time, to a play-actor, buried at Cambridge. I

remember the account, given me by a clever fellow, who being full of

frolic, and desirous of knowing what were the feelings of persons, who

were hanging, suspended himself to a beam, and let himself drop, thinking

that he could lay hold on the beam, when he chose. This, however, he was

unable to do; but, luckily, he was relieved by a companion. Upon being

interrogated, he replied, that he had not been sensible of any pain--that,

at first, a sort of fire and flashing came about his eyes--then extreme

darkness and shadows--and, lastly, a sort of pale blue color, like that of

the ocean. I have heard a physician, now living, say, that, by frictions

and the warm bath, he had brought a man to life, who had hanged himself,

and remained suspended, for half an hour. The same physician used to say,

that he believed any one might be recovered, who had been suspended no

longer, unless his neck was broken. Such is a version of Lord Bacon's

statement.

In the Gentleman's Magazine, for 1834, page 475, the following account is

given of the feelings, during the process of hanging, by one, who was

restored--"The preparations were dreadful, beyond all expression. On being

dropped, he found himself midst fields and rivers of blood, which

gradually acquired a greenish tinge; and imagined, if he could reach a

certain spot in the same, he should be easy. He struggled forcibly to

attain this, and felt no more."

No. XCVI.

It were greatly to be desired, that every driver of brute animals, Guinea

negroes, and hard bargains, since he will not be a Christian, should be a

Pythagorean. The doctrine of the metempsychosis would, doubtless, instil a

salutary terror into his mind; and soften the harshness of his character,

by creating a dread of being, himself, spavined and wind-galled, through

all eternity; or destined to suffer from the lash, which he has

mercilessly laid upon the slave; or condemned to endure that hard measure,

which he has meted, in this world, to the miserable debtor.

This opinion, which Pythagoras is said to have borrowed from the

Egyptians, or, as some assert, from the Brachmans, makes the chief basis

of religion, among the Banians and others, in India and China, at the

present day; and is the cause of their great aversion to take the life of

brute animals, and even insects. The accidental destruction of any living

thing produces, with them, a feeling of sorrow, similar to that,

experienced, as Mr. Catlin says, by an Indian, who unfortunately shot his

_totem_, which, in that case, chanced to be a bear; that is, an animal of

a certain race, one of which his guardian angel was supposed to inhabit.

Vague and fantastical, as have been the notions of a future state, in

different nations, the idea of a condition of being, after death, has been

very universal. Such was the conclusion from the reasonings of Plato. Such

were the results "quae Socrates supremo vitae die de immortalitate animorum

disseruisset." Such was the faith of Cicero--"Sic mihi persuasi, sic

sentio, quum tanta celeritas animorum sit, tanta memoria praeteritorum,

futurorumque prudentia, tot artes, tantae scientiae, tot inventa, non posse

eam naturam, quae res eas contineat, esse mortalem." De Senec. 21.

Seneca was born a year before the Christian era. There is a remarkable

passage, in his sixty-third letter, addressed to Lucilius. He is striving

to comfort Lucilius, who had lost his friend Flaccus--"Cogitemus ergo

Lucili carissime, cito nos eo perventuros quo illum pervenisse moeremus.

Et fortasse (si modo sapientium vera fama est, recipitque nos locus

aliquis) quem putamus perisse, praemissus est:"--Let us consider, my dear

Lucilius, how soon we, ourselves, shall go whither he has gone, whose fate

we deplore. And possibly (if the report of certain wise men be true, and

there is indeed a place to receive us hereafter) he whom we consider as

gone from us _forever_, has only gone _before_. Here is, indeed, a shadowy

conception of a future state. The heathen and the Christian, the savage

and the sage concur, in the feeling, or the faith, or the philosophy,

whichever it may be, that, though flesh and blood, bone and muscle shall

perish, the spirit shall not. An impression, like this, swells into

conviction, from the very contemplation of its own instinctive and

pervasive character.

The Egyptians believed, in the abiding presence of the spirit with the

body, so long as the latter could be preserved; and therefore bestowed

great pains, in its preservation. In the travels of Lewis and Clarke, the

Echeloot Indians are reported to pay great regard to their dead; and

Captain Clarke was of the opinion, that they were believers in a future

state. They have common cemeteries; the bodies, carefully wrapped in

skins, are laid on mats, in vaults made of pine or cedar, eight feet

square; the sides are covered with strange figures, cut and painted, and

images are attached. On tall poles, surmounting these structures, are

suspended brass kettles, old frying-pans, shells, skins, baskets, pieces

of cloth, and hair. Sometimes the body is laid in one canoe, and covered

with another. It is not easy to conjecture what occasion these poor

Echeloots supposed spirits could have, for frying-pans and brass kettles.

The faith of the inhabitants of Taheite is very peculiar. They believe,

that the soul passes through no other purgatory, than the stomach of the

_Eatooa_ bird. They say of the dead, that they are _harra po_, gone to the

night; and they believe, that the soul is instantly swallowed, by the

_Eatooa_ bird, and is purified by the process of deglutition; then it

revives; becomes a superior being; never more to be liable to suffering.

This soul is now raised to the rank of the _Eatooa_, and may, itself,

swallow souls, whenever an opportunity occurs; which, having passed

through this gastric purgation, may, in their turn, do the very same

thing. Vancouver was present, at the obsequies of the chief, _Matooara_.

The priest gave a funeral sermon--"_The trees yet live_," said he, "_the

plants flourish, yet Matooara dies!_" It was a kind of expostulation with

_Eatooa_.

Baron Swedenborg's notions of the soul's condition, after death, are very

original, and rather oriental. He believed, "that man eats, and drinks,

and even enjoys conjugal delight, as in this world; that the resemblance

between the two worlds is so great, that, in the spiritual world, there

are cities with palaces and houses, and also writings and books,

employments and merchandizes; that there are gold and silver, and precious

stones there. There is, in the spiritual world, all and every thing that

there is in the natural world; but that in Heaven, such things are in an

infinitely more perfect state." Trade, in Heaven, is conducted,

doubtless, on those lofty principles, inculcated, by the late Dr.

Chalmers, in his commercial discourses; counterfeiters and bank robbers,

marriage squabbles and curtain lectures are unknown; and no angel lendeth

upon usury. In this arrangement, there is a remarkable oversight; for, as

death is dispensed with, our vocation is no better, than Othello's. The

superior advantages of the Baron's Heaven scarcely offer a fair

compensation, for the suffering and inconvenience of removing, from our

present tabernacles; and, for one, I should decidedly prefer to remain

where I am, especially now that we have gotten the Cochituate water.

Such being the fashion of Swedenborg's Heaven, it would be quite

interesting, were he now among us, in the flesh, to have, under his own

hand, a rough sketch of his Hell. As the former is a state, somewhat

better, the latter must be a state somewhat worse, than our present

condition. It would not be very difficult to give some little idea of

Swedenborg's Orcus, or place of punishment. We should have an eternal

subtreasury, of course, with a tariff, more onerous, if possible, than

that of 1846: the infernal banks would not discount, and money, on prime

paper, would be three per cent. a month. Slavery would cover the earth;

and the South would rage against the North and its interference, like the

maniac, against his best friend, who strives to prevent him, from cutting

his own throat, with his own razor.

Among the fancies, which have prevailed, in relation to the soul and its

habits, none, perhaps, have been more remarkable, than the belief, in an

actual _exodus_, or going forth, of the soul from the body, during life,

on excursions of business or pleasure. This may be placed in the category

of sick men's dreams; and probably is nothing else than that mighty

conjuration of the mind, especially the mind of an invalid; of whose power

no man had greater experience than Emanuel Swedenborg. The inhabitants of

some of the Polynesian islands believe, that the spirits of their

ancestors become divinities, or _Tees_. They believe the soul walks

abroad, in dreams, under the charge of its _Tee_, or tutelary angel.

Mydo, a boy, was brought from Taheite, by an English whaler, and died,

kindly cared for, by the Moravians. One morning, he spoke to these

friends, as follows:--"You told me my soul could not die, and I have been

thinking about it. Last night my body lay on that bed, but I knew nothing

of it, for my soul was very far off. My soul was in Taheite. I am sure I

saw my mother and my friends, and I saw the trees and dwellings, as I left

them. I spoke to the people, and they spoke to me; and yet my body was

lying still in this room, all the while. In the morning, I was come again

into my body, and was at Mirfield, and Taheite was a great many miles off.

Now I understand what you say about my body being put into the earth, and

my soul being somewhere else; and I wish to know where it will be, when it

can no more return to my body." Such were the humble conceptions of the

dying Taheitean boy--let the reader decide for himself what more there may

be, under the grandiloquence of Addison--

--------Plato, thou reasonest well.

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,

This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread and inward horror

Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul

Back on herself, and startles at destruction!

'Tis the divinity, that stirs within us;

'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,

And intimates eternity to man.

No. XCVII.

The ashes of the dead are ransacked, not only for hidden treasure, and for

interesting relics, but there is a figurative species of raking and

scratching, among them, in quest of one's ancestors. This is, too

frequently, a periculous experiment; for the searcher sometimes finds his

progress--the pleasure of his employment, at least--rudely interrupted, by

an offensive stump, which proves to be the relic of the whipping-post, or

the gallows.

Neither the party himself, nor the world, trouble their heads, about a

man's ancestors, until he has distinguished himself, in some degree, or

fancies that he has; for, while he is nobody, they are clearly nobody's

ancestors. In Note A, upon the article _Touchet_, vol. ix., fol. ed.,

Lond., 1739, Bayle remarks--"It is very common to fall into two extremes,

with regard to those, whom Providence raises greatly above their former

condition: some, by fabulous genealogies, procure them ancestors of the

first quality; others reduce them to a rank, much below the true one."

This remark was amply illustrated, in the case of Napoleon Bonaparte:

while some there were, who thought they could make out a clear descent

from the prince of darkness, others were ready to accommodate him with the

most illustrious ancestry. The Emperor of Austria had a fancy, for tracing

Napoleon's descent, from one of the petty sovereigns of Treviso; and a

genealogist made a merit of proving him to be a descendant, from an

ancient line of Gothic princes; to all this Napoleon sensibly replied,

that he dated his patent of nobility, from the battle of Monte Notte.

Cicero was of the same way of thinking, and prided himself, on being

_novus homo_. Among the _fragmenta_, ascribed to him, there is a

declamation against Sallust, published by Lemaire, in his edition of the

Classics, though he believes it not to be Cicero's; in which, sec. ii.,

are these words--_Ego meis majoribus virtute mea praeluxi; ut, si prius

noti non fuerint, a me accipiant initium memoriae suae_--_By my virtue, I

have shown forth before my ancestors; so, that if they were unknown

before, they will receive the commencement of their notoriety from me_. "I

am no herald," said Sydney, "to inquire of men's pedigrees: it sufficeth

for me if I know their virtues."

This setting up for ancestors, among those, who, from the very nature of

our institutions, are, and ever must be, a middling interest people, is as

harmless, as it is sometimes ridiculous, and no more need be said of its

inoffensiveness.

From the very nature of the case, there can be no lack of ancestors. The

simplest arithmetic will show, that the humblest citizen has more than

_one million of grand parents_, within the twentieth degree; and it is

calculated, in works on consanguinity, that, within the fifteenth degree,

every man has nearly _two hundred and seventy millions of kindred_. There

is no lack, therefore, of the raw material, for this light work; unless,

in a case, like that of the little vagrant, who replied to the

magistrate's inquiry, as to his parents, that he never had any, but _was

washed ashore_. The process is very simple. Take the name of Smith, for

example: set down all of that name, who have graduated at the English,

American, and German colleges, for Schmidt is the same thing--then enrol

all of that name, upon the habitable earth, who have, in any way,

distinguished themselves; carefully avoiding the records of criminal

courts, and such publications as Caulfield's Memoirs, the State Trials,

and the Newgate Calendar. Such may be called the genealogy of the Smiths;

and every man of that name, while contemplating the list of worthies, will

find himself declaring a dividend, _per capita_, of all that was good, and

great, and honorable, in the collection; and he will arise, from the

perusal, a more complacent, if not a better man.

This species of literature is certainly coming into vogue. I have lately

seen, in this city, a large duodecimo volume, recently printed, in which

the genealogy of a worthy family, among us, is traced, through Oliver

Cromwell, to AEneas, not AEneas Silvius, who flourished in the early part of

the fifteenth century, and became Pope Pius II., but to AEneas, the King of

the Latins. This royal descent is not through the second marriage with

Lavinia; nor through the accidental relation, between AEneas and Dido--

Speluncam Dido dux et Trojanus eandem

Deveniunt----------;

but through the first marriage with the unfortunate Creusa, who was burnt

to death, in the great Troy fire, which took place, according to the

Parian Marbles, on the 23d of the month, Thargelion, i. e., 11th of June,

1184 years before Christ. Ascanius was certainly therefore the ancestor of

this worthy family, the son of AEneas and Creusa; and the grandson of

Anchises and Venus. Such a pedigree may satisfy a Welchman.

I am forcibly reminded, by all this, of a very pleasant story, recounted

by Horace Walpole, in a letter to Horace Mann: I refer to Letter CCV. in

Lord Dover's edition. In 1749, when Mirepoix was ambassador in England,

there was a Monsieur de Levi, in his suite. This man was proud of his

Jewish name, and really appeared to set no bounds to his genealogical

_gout_. They considered the Virgin Mary a cousin of their house, and had a

painting, in which she is represented, as saying to Monsieur Levi's

ancestor, who takes off his hat in her presence--"_Couvrez vous, mon

cousin_:" to which he replies--"_Non pas, ma tres sainte cousine, je scai

trop bien le respect que je vous dois_." The editor, Lord Dover, says, in

a note, that there is said to have been another ridiculous picture, in

that family, in which Noah is represented, going into the ark, carrying a

small trunk under his arm, on which is written--"_Papiers de la maison de

Levis_."

Very few persons are calculated for the task of tracing genealogies;

patience and discrimination should be united with a certain slowness of

belief, and wariness of imposition. Two of a feather do not more readily

consociate, than two of a name, and of the genealogical fancy, contrive to

strike up a relationship. There are also greater obstacles in the way,

than a want of the requisite talents, temper, and

attainments:--"Alterations of sirnames," says Camden, "which, in former

ages, have been very common, have so obscured the truth of our pedigrees,

that it will be no little labor to deduce many of them." For myself, a

plain, old-fashioned sexton, as I am, I am much better satisfied, with the

simple and intelligible assurance of my Bible, that I am a child of Adam,

than I could possibly be, with any genealogical proofs, that Anchises and

Venus were my ancestors. However, there is no such thing as accounting for

taste; and it is not unpleasant, I admit, to those of us, who still

cherish some of our early, classical attachments, to know, that the blood

of that ancient family is still preserved among us.

No man is more inclined than I am, to perpetuate a sentiment of profound

respect for the memory of worthy ancestors. Let us extract, from the

contemplation of their virtues, a profitable stimulus, to prevent us from

being weary in well-doing. By the laws of Confucius, a part of the duty,

which children owed to their parents, consisted in worshipping them, when

dead. I am inclined to believe, that this filial worship or reverence may

be well bestowed, in the ascending line, on all, who have deserved it, and

who are, _bona fide_, our grandfathers and grandmothers. It seems to me

quite proper and convenient, to have a well-authenticated catalogue or

list of one's ancestors, as far back as possible; but let us exercise a

sound discretion in this matter; and not run into absurdity. I am ready

and willing to obey the laws of Confucius, as implicitly, as though I were

a Chinaman, and reverence my ancestors; but I must, first, be well

satisfied, as to their identity. I will never consent, because some

professional genealogist has worked himself into a particular belief, to

worship the man in the moon, for my great Proavus, nor Dido for my great,

great grandmother.

Domestic arboriculture is certainly getting into fashion, and a family

tree is becoming quite essential to the self-complacency, at least, of

many well-regulated families. The roots are found to push freely, in the

superficial soil of family pride. Generally, these trees, to render them

sightly, require to be pruned with a free hand; and the proprietor, when

the crooked branches are skilfully removed, and all the small and

imperfect fruit put entirely out of sight, may behold it, with heartfelt

pleasure, and rejoice in the happy consciousness, that he is a SMINK. If,

however, these family matters, instead of being preserved, for private

amusement, are to be multiplied, by the press, there will, indeed, in the

words of the wise man, be no end of making books.

Ancestors are relics, and nothing else. Whenever the demand for ancestors

becomes brisk, and genealogy becomes a _profession_--it becomes a _craft_.

Laboureur, the historian, in his _Additions de Castelnau_, tom. ii. p.

559, affords a specimen of genealogical trust-worthiness. "In 1560,

Renatus of Sanzay built, with John le Feron, king at arms of France, a

genealogy of the house of Sanzay, made up of near fifty descents, most of

them enumerated, year by year; with the names, sirnames, and coats of arms

of the women; whilst all those names, families, and arms were mere

phantoms; brother Stephen of Lusignan, out of this mighty tub, as from a

public fountain, let flow the nobility and blood of Lusignan to all

persons, who desired any of it."--Again, on page 320, Laboureur

says--"They admitted, as true, all that was vented by certain false

antiquaries and downright enthusiasts, such as John le Maire de Belges,

Forcatel, a civilian, Stephen of Lusignan, and John le Feron, whom I will

charge with nothing but credulity." This, doubtless, is the stumbling

block of most men, who engage in this semi-mythical employment.

Nothing is more easy, than to mistake one dead person, for another, when

corruption has done its work, upon the form and features. There is

something bituminous in time. What masculine mistakes are committed by

experts! Those relics, which have been the object of hereditary

veneration, for thirty centuries, as the virgin daughter of some great

high priest in the days of Cheops and Cephrenes, may, by the assistance of

the savans, with the aid of magnifiers of extraordinary power, be

demonstrated to be the blackened carcass of Hum-Bug-Phi, the son of

Hassan, the camel-driver; who kept a little khane or caravansera near

Joseph's granaries, in old Al Karirah, on the eastern banks of the Nile,

famous--very--for the quality of its leeks and onions, three thousand

years ago.

No. XCVIII.

Thank Heaven, I am not a young widow, for two plain reasons; I do not wish

to be young again--and I would not be a widow, if I could help it. A young

widow, widder, or widdy, as the word is variously spelt, has been a

byword, of odd import, ever since the days, when Sara, the daughter of

Raguel, exclaimed, in the fifteenth verse of the third chapter of the book

of Tobit--"_My seven husbands are already dead, and why should I live?_"

All this tilting against the widows, with goose quills for spears, arises

from the fact, that these weapons of war are mainly in the hands of one

sex. Men are the scribblers--the lions are the painters. Nothing, in the

chapters of political economy, is more remarkable, than the fact, that,

since all creation was divided into parishes, there has never been a

parish, in which there was not a Mr. Tompkins, who was the very thing for

the widow Button. But the cutting out and fitting of these matters

commonly belongs to that amiable sisterhood, who are ever happy, without

orders, to make up, at short notice.

The result of my limited reading and observation has satisfied me

entirely, that there is, and ever has been, a very great majority of bad

husbands, over the bad wives, and of bewizzarded widowers, over the widows

bewitched. When a poor, lone, young widow, for no reason under Heaven, but

the desire to prove her respect, as Dr. Johnson says, for the state of

matrimony, takes the initiative, every unmarried female, over thirty,

longs to cut her ears off.

If there be sin or silliness, in the repetition of the matrimonial

relation, or in strong indications of uneasiness, in the state of single

blessedness, man is the offender in chief.

_Quadrigamus_, signifying a man who had been four times married, was a

word, applicable of old. Henry VIII. had six wives, in succession. Let us

summon a witness, from among the dead. Let us inquire, where is there a

widow, maid, or wife, who would not be deemed a candidate for the old

summary punishment of Skymmington, should she behave herself, as boldly,

and outrageously, as John Milton behaved?

Milton, though he did not commence his matrimonial experiments, until he

was thirty-five, married, in succession, Mary Powell, in 1643--Catherine

Woodcock, in 1653--and Elizabeth Minshull, in 1662. Mary Powell, who was

the daughter of a Cavalier, and accustomed to the gaiety of her father's

house, soon became weary of her solitary condition, with John Milton, who

was, constitutionally, of a choleric and lordly temper. Contrasted with

the loneliness, and slender appliances of her new home, the residence of

her father, at Forest Hill, appeared to her, like paradise lost. So she

went home, at the end of a month, ostensibly upon a visit; and, probably,

gave no very flattering account of the honeymoon. Just about that period,

the King's forces had thrashed Fairfax, in the North, and taught Waller

the true difference, between prose and poetry, in the West; and "the

Powells," says Dr. Symmons, "began to repent of their Republican

connection." Milton wrote to his wife to return. She neither came, nor

responded. He next sent a messenger, who was treated with contempt.

Thereupon Milton immediately proceeded to pay his suit to a very beautiful

and accomplished young lady, the daughter of a Dr. Davis; and Dr. Symmons

is evidently of opinion, that the lady and her family had no objections to

the proceeding, which is fully exhibited, in Milton's Prose Works, vol.

vii. p. 205, Lond., 1806.

Talk not of widows after this. Finding, even in those days of disorder,

that no divorce, _a vinculo_, could be obtained, under existing laws, he

wrote his celebrated works--The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, and

the Judgment of Martin Bucer, concerning Divorce. In these works he sets

forth his particular grievance, which the reader may easily comprehend,

from one or two brief quotations--he speaks of a "_mute and spiritless

mate_" and of "_himself bound to an image of earth and phlegm_."

After the fight of Naseby, the Powells appear to have thought better of

it; and Madame Milton returned, made the amende, and was restored in full.

What sort of composition Milton made with Miss Davis nobody has ever

disclosed. Certain it is, that compasionate damsel and the works upon

divorce were all laid upon the same shelf. We are apt to find something

of value, in a thing we have discarded, when we perceive, that it is

capable of giving high satisfaction to another. This consideration may

have influenced Mrs. Milton; and, very possibly, the desire of returning

to the residence of Milton may have been secondary to that of jilting Miss

Davis, which she was certainly entitled to do. I knew an old gentleman,

who was always so much affected, in this manner, by the sight of his

cast-off clothing, upon the persons of his servants, that nothing would

content him, short of reclaimer.

Milton was ever Milton still--_nihil tetigit quod non ornavit_. Take a

brief extract or two from his work on divorce:--"What therefore God hath

joined let no man put asunder. But here the Christian prudence lies, to

consider what God hath joined. Shall we say that God hath joined error,

fraud, unfitness, wrath, contention, perpetual loneliness, perpetual

discord? Whatever lust, or wine, or witchery, threat or enticement,

avarice or ambition hath joined together, faithful or unfaithful,

Christian with anti-Christian, hate with hate, or hate with love--shall we

say this is God's joining?"--"But unfitness and contrariety frustrate and

nullify forever, unless it be a rare chance, all the good and peace of

wedded conversation; and leave nothing between them enjoyable, but a prone

and savage necessity, not worth the name of marriage, unaccompanied with

love." Every word of all this was written with an eye to the object of his

unlawful passion: but the legislature very justly considered the greatest

good of the greatest possible number; and would not turn aside, to pass a

bill, for the special relief of John Milton and Miss Davis.

Selden, in his _Uxor Hebraica_, has proved, that polygamy existed, not

only among the Hebrews, but among all nations, and in all ages. Mark

Anthony is mentioned, as the first, among the Romans, who took the liberty

of having two wives. What a gathering there would have been, in the Forum,

if the news had been spread, that Mrs. Mark Anthony had taken the liberty

of having two husbands! Every body knows, that widows are occasionally

burnt, in Hindostan, on the funeral pile with their husbands. Whoever

heard of a widower being burnt or even scorched, on a similar occasion?

The Landgrave of Hesse, the most warlike of the Protestant leaders, caused

a representation to be made to the theologians, that he must have two

wives, and that he would not be denied. A most rampant and outrageous

protocol was prepared, and handed to Bucerus, for the ministers at

Wittemberg. The substance of this was equally discreditable to the

Landgrave, and insulting to Luther and the holy fathers. The Landgrave was

no gentleman, for he told the theologians, that his lady got drunk, and

was personally disagreeable to him. He calls God to witness, that, if they

do not sanction his polygamy, he will do just what he likes, and the sin

will be upon their heads. He particularly wishes information, on one

point--why he is not as good as Abraham, Jacob, David, Lamech, and

Solomon; and why he has not as good a right to have a spare wife or two,

as they had. He asks for two only.

Luther was deeply troubled, and perplexed. The Reformation professed to

bring back the world to the Scriptures, in which polygamy was expressly

recognized. The Reformers held marriage to be _res politica_, and

therefore subject to the law of the State. The matter became worse by

delay. The Landgrave was filled with fury, and the theologians with fear.

At last, poor Luther and the rest signed a paper, concluding with these

memorable words--"If however your highness is utterly determined upon

marrying a second wife, we are of opinion, that it ought to be done

secretly. Signed and sealed at Wittemberg, after the feast of St.

Nicholas, in the year 1539. Martin Luther, Philip Melancthon, Martin

Bucer, Antony Corvin, Adam John Lening, Justin Wintfert, Dyonisius

Melanther."

The detail of all this may be found, in Hazlitt's translation of

Michelet's Life of Luther, page 251, Lond. 1846. Bayle, article Luther,

observes, that the theologians would have promptly refused to sanction

such a thing, had the request come from any private gentleman--or, permit

me to add, if it had come from the lady of the Landgrave, for a brace of

husbands.

It is my opinion, that great injustice is done to widows. The opinion of

St. Jerome, who never was a widow, and knew nothing about it, that they

should never marry again, is perfectly absurd; for there are some men,

whose constitutional timidity would close the matrimonial highway forever,

were it not for that peculiar species of encouragement, which none but

widows can ever administer. For my own part, I would have a widow speak

out, and spare not; for I am very fearful, that the opposite course is

productive of great moral mischief, and tends to perpetuate a system of

terrible hypocrisy. But let a sound discretion be exercised. I disapprove

altogether of conditional engagements, made _durante vita mariti_.

No. XCIX.

Jonny Moorhead was a man of a kind heart and a pleasant fancy. He came

hither from Belfast, in 1727. He became pastor of the Presbyterian Church

in Long Lane, in 1730.--_Tempora mutantur_--Long Lane, and Jonny Moorhead,

and the little, old, visible temple, and Presbyterianism itself, are like

Rachel's first born--they are not. But in 1744, the good people built a

new church, for Jonny Moorhead; in due time, Long Lane became Federal

Street; and, Jonny's church bore the bell, which had rung so many peals,

and the gilded tell-tale, which, for so many years, had done obeisance to

all the winds of Heaven, upon the _old_ Brattle Street Church. These, upon

the demolition of that church, in 1774, were the gift of John Hancock.

Jonny Moorhead had little comfort from that bell, for he died December 3,

1774, and could he have lived to see that Presbyterian weathercock go

round, in after-times, it would have broken the tough, old strings of

Jonny Moorhead's Irish heart.

About one hundred years ago, Jonny Moorhead, upon a drowsy summer

afternoon, gave out the one hundred and eighty-seventh psalm--the chief

minstrel, with infinite embarrassment, suggested, that there were not so

many in the _Book_--and tradition tells us, that Jonny replied--"_Weel,

then, sing as mony as there be_."

My recollection of this anecdote of Jonny Moorhead will be painfully

revived, when I send forth the one hundredth number of these dealings with

the dead. They have been prepared like patch-work, from such fragments, as

my common-place book supplied, and at such broken hours of more than

ordinary loneliness, as might otherwise have been snoozed, unconsciously

away. I had cast all that I had written into a particular drawer; and

great was my surprise, to find, that the hundredth was the last, and that,

with that number, I shall have sung--"_as mony as there be_."

One hundred--thought I--is an even number--few individuals care to survive

one hundred. When these dealings with the dead had reached the number of

four-score, I had serious misgivings, that their _strength_, to my weary

reader, might prove nothing better than _labor and sorrow_;

notwithstanding the occasional tokens of approbation, from some

exceedingly old-fashioned people, who were altogether behind the times.

Having attained this _point d'appui_, which appears well enough adapted

for the long home of an old sexton, it occurred to me, that I could not

possibly do a better thing, for myself, or a more acceptable thing for the

public, than to gather up my tools, as snugly as possible, and quietly

give up the ghost. But giving up the ghost, even in the sacristan sense of

that awful phrase, is not particularly agreeable, after all. If I look

upon each one of these hundred dealings, as a sepulchre of my own

digging--I cannot deny, that the employment of my spade has been a

particular solace to me. But there are other solaces--I know it--there are

an hundred according to the exiled bard of Sulmo--

"----centum solatia curae

Et rus, et comites, et via longa dabunt."

Other suggestions readily occur, and are as readily, discarded. Parents,

occasionally, experiment upon the sensibility of their children, by fondly

discoursing of the uncertainty of human existence, and mingling deep drawn

sighs, with shadowy allusions to wills and codicils.

For three-and-thirty years, our veteran, maiden aunt, Jemima Wycherly, at

the close of her annual visit, which seldom fell short of six weeks, in

its duration, though it seemed much longer, took each of us by the hand,

and, with many tears, commended us fervently to the protecting arm of an

overruling Providence, and bade us an eternal farewell!

I have always contemplated the conduct of Charles V. in relation to the

rehearsal of his funeral obsequies, as a piece of imperial foolery. "He

ordered his tomb to be erected, in the chapel of the monastery. His

domestics marched thither in funeral procession, with black tapers in

their hands. He himself followed, in his shroud. He was laid in his

coffin, with much solemnity. The service for the dead was chanted; and

Charles joined in the prayers, which were offered for the rest of his

soul, mingling his tears with those, which his attendants shed, as if

they had been celebrating a real funeral. The ceremony closed, with

sprinkling holy water on the coffin, in the usual form, and, all the

assistants retiring, the doors of the chapel were shut. Then Charles rose

out of the coffin, and withdrew to his apartment." Such is the statement

of Dr. Robertson.[1]

Notwithstanding this high authority, it is comforting, even at this late

day, to believe, that a story, so discreditable to the memory of Charles,

is without any substantial foundation. It has ever appeared remarkable,

that Bayle should not have alluded to this curious anecdote. After

bestowing the highest praise, on Richard Ford's Hand Book, for Travellers

in Spain, the London Quarterly Review[2] furnishes an extract from the

work, in which, after giving a minute and interesting account of the

convent of St. Yuste, the final retreat of Charles V., Mr. Ford

says--"_the story of his having had the funeral service said over himself,

while alive, is untrue; no record, or tradition of the kind existed among

the monks_."

There is something, in these drafts upon _posterity_, to be accepted and

paid, by the _present generation_, for the honor of the drawer, resembling

the conduct of a man, who encroaches on his principal, or who anticipates

his revenues.

There is, undoubtedly, a species of luxury in leave-taking. We have

delighted, to contemplate the edifying history of that gray-headed old

rat, who, weary of the world, and determined to spend the remnant of his

days, in pious meditation, took a final and affectionate leave of all his

relatives and friends, and retired to a quiet hole--_in the recesses of a

Cheshire cheese_.

However gratified we may be, to witness the second, or third coming of an

able, ardent, and ambitious politician, it is not in the gravest nature to

restrain a smile, while we contrast that vehemence, which no time can

temper--that _vis vivida vitae_--ready for all things, in the forum or the

field--that unquenchable fire, brightly burning, beneath the frost of more

than seventy winters--with those sad infirmities of ace--those silver

hairs--that one foot in the grave--the necessity of turning from all

sublunary things, and making way for Heaven, under the pale rays of life's

parting sun--those senatorial adieus--and long, last farewells--those

solemn prayers and fervent hopes for the happiness of his associates,

whom he should meet no more, on this side of the eternal world--those

_esto perpetuas_ for his country! How touching these things would be, but

for their frequency! What more natural, or more excusable, having enjoyed

the luxury of leave-taking, than a desire--after a reasonable interval--to

repeat the process, which afforded so much pleasure, and inflicted so

little pain!

As to my own comparatively humble relation to the public--_parvis

componere magna_--I am of opinion, that I should gain nothing, by

affecting to retire, or by pretending to be dead. As to the former, it may

be as truly averred of sextons, as it was, by Mr. Jefferson, of

office-holders--"_few die and none resign_;" and, in respect to the

latter, I not only despise the idea of such an imposition upon the public,

but have some little fear, that the affectation might be too suddenly

followed, by the reality, as Dr. Robertson, rightly or wrongly, affirms it

to have been, in the case of Charles the Fifth.

I am now fairly committed, for the first number, at least, of another

hundred, but for nothing more. I pretend not to look deeper into futurity,

than six feet, which is the depth of a well-made grave. When I shall have

completed the second hundred, and commenced upon a third, I shall be well

nigh ready to exclaim, in the words of Ovid--

"Vixi

Annos bis centum: nunc tertia vivitur aetas."

A relation of liberty and equality is decidedly the best, for my reader

and for me--I am not constrained to write, nor he to read--if he cannot

lie cozily, in a grave of my digging--I do not propose to detain him

there--to bury him alive. Dealing with the dead has not hardened my heart.

I am a sexton of very considerable sensibility; and have, occasionally,

mingled my tears with the earth, as I shovelled it in.

In less figurative phrase, it is my desire to write, for my amusement,

till one of us, the reader or myself, gives in, or gives out, and cries

_enough_. I have a perfect respect for the old proverb, _de gustibus_, and

by no means anticipate the pleasure of pleasing every body--

Men' moveat cimex Pantilius? aut cruciet, quod

Vellicet absentem Demetrius? aut quod ineptus

Fannius Hermogenis laedat conviva Tigelli?

There are some readers, for example, who seem to look upon a classical

quotation, as a personal affront. I conceive this objection to be scarcely

equitable, from those, whose hybrid English, it is quite as hard to bear.

There are mortals--offenders in some sort--whom it is difficult to please,

like the culprit who cried _higher_ and _lower_, under the lash, till the

Irish drummer's patience was perfectly exhausted, and he exclaimed--"_By

Jasus, there's no plasing ye, strike where I will_."

No. C.

The sayings of eminent men, in a dying hour, are eminently worthy of being

gathered together--they are often illustrative of the characters of the

dead, and impressive upon the hearts of the living. Not a few of these

parting words are scattered, over the breadth and length of history, and

might form a volume--a _Vade Mecum_, for the patriot and the Christian--a

casket of imperishable jewels.

As an example of those sayings, to which I refer, nothing can be more

apposite, than that of the Chevalier Bayard, while dying upon the field of

battle. "He received a wound," says Robertson, "which he immediately

perceived to be mortal, and being unable any longer to continue on

horseback, he ordered one of his attendants to place him under a tree,

with his face toward the enemy; then fixing his eyes on the guard of his

sword, which he held up, instead of a cross, he addressed his prayers to

God; and, in this posture, which became his character, both as a soldier

and as a Christian, he calmly awaited the approach of death." Bourbon, who

led the foremost of the enemy's troops, found him in this situation, and

expressed regret and pity, at the sight. "_Pity not me_," cried the

high-spirited chevalier, "_I die, as a man of honor ought, in the

discharge of my duty; they indeed are objects of pity, who fight against

their king, their country, and their oath_."

How significant of the life of that great military phlebotomist, who, from

the overthrow of the council of five hundred, in 1799, to his own in 1815,

delighted in blood, and in war, were those wild, wandering words of the

dying Napoleon--_tete d'armee!_

We have the last words of consciousness, that were uttered, by the younger

Adams, when stricken by the hand of death in the capitol--_the last of

earth!_ We have also those of his venerable father, who expired, on the

anniversary of that day, which he had so essentially contributed to render

glorious, so long as the annals of our country shall continue to be

preserved. On the morning of that day, the dying patriot, at the age of

ninety-one, was awakened, by the customary pealing of bells, and the roar

of artillery. Upon being asked, if he recognized the day, he replied--"_it

is the glorious Fourth--God bless the day--God bless you all_."

On the ninth day of July, 1850, another patriot died, at his post, and in

the service of his country, whose parting words will long remain, engraven

at full length, upon the broad area of the whole American heart,--I AM

PREPARED--I HAVE ENDEAVORED TO DO MY DUTY! Here, in this comprehensive

declaration of General Taylor, are embodied all, and more than all,

contained in the long cherished words of the departing patriot--ESTO

PERPETUA!

"And you brave Cobham, to the latest breath,

Shall feel your ruling passion, strong in death:

Such in those moments, as in all the past;

'O save my country, Heaven!' shall be your last."

The ninth day of July is, with the Swiss, the day of their National

Independence. On that memorable day, in 1836, they fought, and won the

great battle of Sempach, against Leopold, Duke of Austria, which victory

established the liberties of Switzerland.

Upon the anniversary of that very day, just ninety-five years ago,

Washington was signally preserved, from the sweeping and indiscriminate

carnage of Indian warfare, for those high destinies, which he fulfilled so

gloriously. The ninth day of July, 1755, was the day of General Braddock's

defeat--the battle, as it is sometimes called, of Fort du Quesne.

Hereafter, it will be noted, as a day of gloom, in our national calendar.

A great--good man has fallen--in a trying hour--in the very midst of his

labors--a wiser, a worthier could not have fallen, at a moment of deeper

need. From sea to sea--from the mountain tops to the valleys below--from

the city and from the wilderness--from the rich man's castle, and from the

hunter's cabin--from the silver-haired and from the light-hearted, what an

acclaim--what a response, as the voice of one man--has already answered

to that dying declaration--I AM PREPARED--I HAVE ENDEAVORED TO DO MY DUTY!

As an entire people, we know it--we feel it--and may God, in his infinite

wisdom and goodness, enable us to profit, by a dispensation, so awfully

solemn, and so terribly severe.

The spirit of this great, good man is now by the side of that sainted

shade, which once animated the form of the immortal Washington. They are

looking down upon the destinies of their country. Who is so dull of

hearing, as not to catch the context of those dying words? _I am

prepared_--_I have endeavored to do my duty_--AND MAY MY DEATH CEMENT THAT

UNION, WHICH I SO CHEERFULLY DEVOTED MY LIFE TO PRESERVE!

It is finished. The career of this good man has closed forever.

Ingratitude and calumny to him are nothing now. After days and nights of

restless agitation, he has obtained one long, last night of sweet repose,

reserved for those, who die _prepared, and who have endeavored to do

their duty_. He has gone where the wicked cease from troubling, and where

the weary are at rest. No summons to attend the agitating councils of the

Cabinet shall disturb his profound repose--no sarcastic commentaries upon

his honest policy, from the over-heated leaders of the Senate or the

House, shall give him additional pain. Party malignity can no longer reach

that ear. Even the hoary-headed, political Zoilus of the age can scarcely

find a motive, base enough, among the recesses of an envenomed heart, for

posthumous abuse. In view of this solemnizing event, the raving

abolitionist and the Utopian non-resistant may be expected to hold their

incomparably senseless tongues, at least till these obsequies be past.

If I do not greatly mistake, the death of General Harrison and the death

of General Taylor, so very soon after entering upon the performance of

their presidential duties, will not fail to present before the whole

American people, for their learning, a first and a second lesson, so

perfectly legible, that he, who runs, may read.

It perfectly comports with a respect, sincere and profound, for the

memories of these excellent men, solemnly to inquire, if, upon certain

well known and universally acknowledged principles, it would not be as

wise, and even more wise, to select a statesman, whose conduct in the

cabinet had made him preeminently popular, and to place him, with a

sword, in his unpractised hand, at the head of the armies of the

Republic--than to place, in the Presidential chair, a great soldier,

universally and deservedly popular, for his success in war--however strong

his common sense--however inflexible his integrity--however pure and

devoted his patriotism--unless he also possesses that skill, and knowledge

of affairs, which never came to man, by intuition; and which cannot be

acquired, but by the laborious training and experience of years? This is a

solemn question, for the people; and it may well be put, irrespectively of

the public weal, and with a reference, directly, to the happiness, and

even to the continued existence, of those, who may be so unfortunate as to

become the objects of the popular favor. Is there any doubt, that all the

battles, in which General Taylor has ever been engaged, have occasioned

less wear and tear of body and mind, than have been produced, by the

numberless trials and anxieties of the Presidential relation? It is a

popular saying, and, perhaps, not altogether unworthy of general

acceptation, that both General Harrison and General Taylor were _killed,

not by kindness, but by care_.

It may readily be supposed, that a gallant soldier would rather encounter

the brunt of a battle, than such torrents of filth, as have been poured,

professionally, upon the chief magistrate of the nation, from week to

week, by the great scavenger, and his auxiliaries, at Washington. All this

would have been borne, with comparative indifference, by a practised

statesman, whose training had been among the contests of the forum, and

whose moral cutis had been thickened, by time and exposure.

To appear, and to be, all that a chief magistrate ought to appear, and to

be, in the centre of his cabinet, what a mass of information, on a great

variety of subjects--what tact, amid the details of the cabinet--must be

required, which very few gentlemen, who have devoted themselves to the

military profession, can be supposed to possess! If knowledge is power,

ignorance is weakness; and the consciousness of that weakness produces a

condition of suffering and anxiety. Instead of coming to the great work of

government, with the necessary stock of knowledge, training, and

experience--how incompetent is he, who comes to that work, like an actor,

who is learning his part, during the progress of the play.

The crude, iron ore is quite as well adapted to the purposes of the

smith, or the cutler, without any subjection to the preparatory processes

of metallurgy, as talent and virtue, however consummate, without

preparatory training, and appropriate study, for the great and complicated

work of government.

Too much confidence is apt to be reposed, upon the idea, that the

President will be sustained, by his cabinet; and that any deficiencies, in

him, will be compensated, by their wisdom and experience. The President is

an important, component part of the acting government. He is not, like the

august Personage, at the head of the government of England, who can do no

wrong; and whose chief employment is the breeding of royal babies, and the

occasional reading of a little speech. He can do a great deal of wrong,

and must do a great deal of work; and, when he differs from his cabinet,

the more need he feels of practical and applicable wisdom and knowledge;

and, the more upright and conscientious he is, the more miserable he

becomes, under an oppressive sense of his incapacity.

General Taylor will long be remembered, by the people of the United

States, with profound and affectionate respect. His amiable and excellent

qualities are embalmed in their hearts. He fought the battles of his

country, with consummate skill and bravery. He led their armies, in many

battles--and never, but to victory!

A grateful people, in the fulness of their hearts, and amid the blindness

of popular enthusiasm, and with the purest purposes, and with sentiments

of patriotic devotion, rewarded their gallant soldier, by placing upon his

brows, A GILDED CROWN OF THORNS!

No. CI.

The form of a Chinese tomb, says Mr. Davis, in his "Description of the

Empire of China," whether large or small, is exactly that of the Greek

_omega_ [Greek: O]. Their mourning color is white. Their cemeteries are

upon the hills. No interments are permitted in cities. No corpse is

suffered to be carried, through any walled town, which may lie in its way

to the place of interment.

The tombs of the rich, says M. Grosier, are shaped like a _horse shoe_,

which, when well made, might pass for a very respectable [Greek: O].

Almost immediately after death, says the latter writer, the corpse is

arrayed in its best attire. A son will sell himself, as a slave, to

purchase a coffin, for his father. The coffin, upon which no cost is

spared, remains, frequently, for years, the most showy article of the

expectant's furniture. The body lies in state, and is visited by all

comers, for seven days. The hall of ceremony is hung with white,

interspersed with black or violet colored silk. Flowers, perfumes, and wax

lights abound. Those, who enter, salute the dead, as if he were alive, and

knock their heads, three times, upon the ground. Upon this, the sons of

the defunct creep forth, on their hands and knees, from behind a curtain,

and, having returned the salutation, retire in the same manner.

A Chinese hearse is a very elegant affair; it is covered with a

dome-shaped canopy of violet-colored silk, with tufts of white, neatly

embroidered, and surmounted with net work. In this the coffin reposes; and

the whole is borne, by sixty-four men.

Mourning continues for three years, during which the aggrieved abstain

from flesh, wine, and all ordinary amusements.

As we have had recently, among us, some half a dozen visitors, male and

female, from the Celestial Empire, I am strongly tempted to turn from the

dead, to the living.

I have repeatedly attended the morning levees of Miss PWAN YEKOO, who was

exhibited with her serving-maid, LUM AKUM, Mr. SOO CHUNE, the musical

professor, his son and daughter, MUN CHUNG and AMOON, and Mr. ALEET MONG,

the interpreter. This was certainly a very interesting group; such as

never before has been presented in this city, and will not be again, I

presume, for many years.

Miss Yekoo is said to be seventeen, which appears to be her age. With the

costume of the Chinese, which, in our eyes, is superlatively graceless, we

have become sufficiently familiar, by the exhibition of the living males

and the stuffed females, in our Chinese Museums. Of their music, we had an

interesting specimen, a few years since. Being fortunately deaf, I can say

nothing of the performances of Miss _Yekoo_ and Professor _Chune_. Their

features and complexions are Chinese, of course, and cannot be better

described than in the words of Sir John Barrow, as applicable to the race:

"The narrow, elongated, half-closed eye; the linear and highly-arched

eyebrow; the broad root of the nose; the projection of the upper jaw a

little beyond the lower; the thin, straggling beard, and the body

generally free from hair; a high, conical head, and triangular face: and

these are the peculiar characteristics which obtained for them, in the

_Systema Naturae_ of Linnaeus, a place among the varieties of the species,

distinguished by the name of _homines monstrosi_."

Apart from these and other considerations, it was well for all, who had it

in their power, to avail themselves of an opportunity, which is not likely

to be presented again, for years, and examine, with their own eyes, those

"_golden lilies_," for the production of which this little Chinese

spinster, Miss _Pwan Yeekoo_ has been severely tortured, from her cradle.

She is neither very large, nor very small, for a girl of seventeen, and

her feet are precisely _two inches and a half_ in length. A small female

foot, as it came from the hand of the great Creator, has ever been

accounted a great beauty, since Eve was born. But, to the eyes of all

beholders, on this side of the Yellow Sea, no more disgusting objects were

ever presented, than the horribly contracted and crippled deformities,

upon the ends of Miss Yekoo's little trotters.

The bare feet are not exhibited; but a model of the foot, two inches and a

half in length, on which is a shoe, which is taken off, by the exhibitor,

and put upon the real foot of Miss Yekoo, over a shoe, already there. This

model is affirmed to be exact. As it is presented in front, the great toe

nail alone is visible, forming a central apex, for the foot. On being

turned up, the four smaller toes are seen, closely compacted, and inverted

upon the sole. It is not possible to walk, with the weight of the body

upon the inverted toes, without pain. Miss Yekoo, like all other Chinese

girls, with these crippled feet, walks, with manifest uneasiness and

awkwardness, upon her heels. The _os calcis_ receives the whole weight of

the body.

To sustain the statement, that Miss Yekoo is a "_Chinese lady_," it is

said, that these crippled feet are signs of aristocracy. Not infallible, I

conceive:--not more so, than crippled ribs, occasioned by tight lacing,

which may originate in the upper circles, but find hosts of imitators,

among the lower orders. "We may add," says Mr. Davis, writing of this

practice, "that this odious custom extends lower down, in the scale of

society, than might have been expected, from its disabling effect, upon

those, who have to labor for their subsistence. If the custom were first

imposed, by the tyranny of the men, the women are fully revenged, in the

diminution of their charms and domestic usefulness."

Mr. Davis evidently supposes, that the custom had its rise in jealousy,

and a desire to prevent the ambulatory sex, from gadding about. Various

causes have been assigned, for this disgusting practice. Sir John Barrow,

after expressing his surprise, at the silence of Marco Polo, on the

subject of crippled feet, which were, doubtless, common in his time,

observes--"Of the origin of this unnatural custom, the Chinese relate

twenty different accounts, all absurd. Europeans suppose it to have

originated in the jealousy of the men, determined, says M. de Pauw, to

keep them '_si etroit qu'on ne peut comparer l'exactitude avec laquelle on

les gouverne_.'"

A _practice_, which, at its very birth, and during its infancy, required

the assignment of some plausible reason, for its existence and

support--when it grows up to be a _custom_, lives on and thrives,

irrespectively of its origin, and, frequently, in spite of its absurdity.

The blackened teeth of the Japanese--the goitres of the Swiss, in the

valley of Chamouni--the flattened heads of certain Indian races--the

crippled feet of the Chinese are illustrations of this truth, in the

admiration which they still continue to receive. "Whatever," says Sir John

Barrow, "may have been the cause, the continuance may more easily be

explained: as long as the men will marry none but such as have crippled

feet, crippled feet must forever remain in fashion among Chinese ladies."

M. De Pauw, in his Philosophical Dissertations, alludes to this practice,

in connection with that, formerly employed by the Egyptians, and which he

calls--"_the method of confining the women anciently, in Egypt, by

depriving them, in some measure, of the use of their feet_."

Plutarch, in his _Precepta Connub_, says, that shoes were entirely

forbidden to women, by the Egyptians. "Afterwards," says De Pauw, "they

imagined it to be inconsistent with decency, that they should appear in

public, with the feet naked, and, of course, they remained at home."

The Kalif, Hakin, who founded the religion of the Druses, re-enacted this

law. De Pauw remarks, that the assertion of Plutarch might seem doubtful,

if a decree, prohibiting the manufacture of shoes for women, under the

pain of death, were not found, as it is, in the _Kitab-al-Machaid_, or

bible of the Druses.

Upon my first visit to Pwan Yekoo and her _suite_, in connection with

other visitors, I was not admitted for nearly two hours, after the

appointed time. Ample sleeping arrangements had not been made, for these

Celestials; and, for one night, at least, they had been packed, like a

crate of China ware, in a closet, or small apartment, contiguous to the

hall of exhibition. Yekoo was indignant, and refused to show her "golden

lilies." By dint of long importunity, she appeared, but in no gentle

humor. Indeed, when Yekoo came forth, followed by Lum Akum, I was

reminded, at a glance, of Cruikshank's illustration of Mrs. Varden,

followed by Meigs, with the Protestant manual. They soon recovered their

better nature; and some little attention, paid by the visitors, to the

Celestial pappooses, put them into tolerably good humor.

At the close of the exhibition, we were invited near the platform. It

would be superfluous to describe the Chinese costume, so commonly

presented, in various works. I was especially attracted by the hair of

Yekoo, and Lum Akum, who passes for her waiting woman. I examined it with

my glasses. It was jet black, coarse, abundant, and besmeared with a

stiffening paste or gluten, which mightily resembled grease. Upon the top

of the head a slender, round stick, about the size of a crow's quill, is

attached, projecting _aft_, in marine parlance, several inches, like a

small ring tail boom. The design of this is to support the hair, which is

thrown over it, and hangs, or is plastered, down with the shining paste,

assuming the appearance, seen _a tergo_, of a rudder.

The Chinese, in relation to the rest of mankind, are, certainly, a

contrarious people. In 1833, Mr. Charles Majoribanks addressed a letter to

the Right Hon. Charles Grant, in which he says:

"China may, in many respects, be said to stand alone, among the nations;

not only differing, but, in many instances, diametrically opposed, in the

nature of its laws, customs, and institutions. A Chinese, when he goes

into mourning, puts on white; the left hand they consider the place of

honor; they think it an act of unbecoming familiarity to uncover the head;

their mariner's compass, they assert, points to the South; the stomach

they declare to be the seat of the understanding; and the chief God of

their idolatry is the Devil."

Suicide is no crime, with the Chinese. To receive a present, with one

hand, is deemed an act of rudeness. They never say of the departed, that

he is _dead_, but that he has _gone to his ancestors_. Among the good

traits of the Chinese are to be numbered filial respect, and general

sobriety. In one particular, their legislation may be considered superior

to our own--among the grounds of divorce, says Mr. Davis, they include

"_excessive talkativeness_."

I have been reared, in the faith, that the Chinese are not only a

_peculiar_, but an exceedingly _nasty_ generation. According to Barrow,

and to Du Halde, in his _Hist. Gen. de la Chine_, they are so liable to a

species of leprosy, that, for the purpose of arresting its progress, it is

numbered among the causes of divorce. The itch and other cutaneous

diseases are extremely common. "They seem," says De Pauw, "to have neither

horror nor repugnance for any kind of food; they eat rats, bats, owls,

storks, badgers, dogs," &c. Brand, in his _Reise nach China_,

observes--"Dogs are chiefly employed, as food, by the Chinese, during the

great heat in summer, because they fancy their flesh to have a cooling

quality."

Barrow was private secretary to the Earl of Macartnay, and, in 1804,

published his travels in China, a work of great merit, and which has been

highly lauded, for its candor and fidelity. In proof of my remark, I offer

the following quotation, from that work, on pages 76 and 77. After

alluding to the custom of crippling the feet, Mr. Barrow proceeds--"The

interior wrappers of the ladies' feet are said to be seldom changed,

remaining sometimes, until they can no longer hold together; a custom that

conveys no very favorable idea of Chinese cleanliness. This indeed forms

no part of their character; on the contrary, they are what Swift would

call a _frowzy_ people. The comfort of clean linen, or frequent change of

under-garments, is equally unknown to the sovereign and the peasant. A

sort of thin coarse silk supplies the place of cotton or linen next the

skin, among the upper ranks; but the common people wear a coarse kind of

open cotton cloth. These vestments are more rarely removed for the purpose

of washing, than for that of being replaced with new ones; and the

consequence of such neglect is, as might naturally be supposed, an

abundant increase of those vermin, to whose growth filthiness is found to

be most favorable. The highest officers of state made no hesitation of

calling their attendants, in public, to seek in their necks, for those

troublesome animals, which, when caught, they very composedly put between

their teeth. They carry no pocket handkerchief, but generally blow their

noses into small square pieces of paper, which some of their attendants

have ready prepared for the purpose. Many are not so cleanly, but spit

about the rooms, or against the walls, like the French, and they wipe

their dirty hands, in the sleeves of their gowns. They sleep at night in

the same clothes they wear by day. Their bodies are as seldom washed, as

their articles of dress. They never make use of the bath, warm or cold.

Notwithstanding the vast number of rivers and canals, with which every

part of the country is intersected, I do not remember to have seen a

single group of boys bathing. The men, in the hottest day of summer, make

use of warm water, for washing the hands and face. They are unacquainted

with the use of soap."

I do not disbelieve, that we, occasionally, meet men, who are very dirty,

and remarkably orthodox, and, now and then, a well-washed and well-dressed

villain--but sin and filth are too frequently found to form the very bond

of iniquity. "Great crimes," says Sir John Barrow, "are not common, but

little vices pervade all ranks of society. A Chinese is cold, cunning, and

distrustful; always ready to take advantage of those he has to deal with;

extremely covetous and deceitful; quarrelsome, vindictive, but timid and

dastardly. A Chinese in office is a strange compound of insolence and

meanness. All ranks and conditions have a total disregard for truth. From

the Emperor downwards, the most palpable falsehoods are proclaimed, with

unblushing effrontery, to answer a political, an interested, or

exculpatory purpose."

I beg leave respectfully to suggest to Miss Yekoo, to pay a little more

attention to her teeth, and somewhat improve her personal appearance. The

collections, upon their upper portions, are, by no means, necessary to

prove her Tartar origin.

No. CII.

Death is rarely more unwelcome to any, than to those, who reasonably

suppose the perils of the deep to be fairly passed, and who are permitted,

after a long sojourn in other lands, to look once again upon their own--so

near withal, that their eyes are gladdened, by the recognition of familiar

landmarks; and who, in the silent chancel of their miscalculating hearts,

thank God, that they are _at home at last_--and yet, in the very midst of

life and joy, they are in death!

There has ever seemed to me to be something exceedingly impressive, in the

death of that eminent patriot, Josiah Quincy. He died when the bark, which

bore him homeward was in sight of land--the headlands of Gloucester, April

26, 1775--

----Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos.

Few men, of our own country, have accomplished more, or acquired a more

honorable celebrity, at the early age of thirty-one.

His was a death in the common course of nature. I more especially allude,

at this moment, to death as it occurs, from shipwreck, on one's own

shores, when the voyage is apparently at an end, and the voyagers are

anticipating an almost immediate reunion with their friends.

The frequency of these occurrences revives, at the present moment, the

sentiment of Horace, delivered some eighteen centuries ago--

Illi robur et aes triplex

Circa pectus erat, qui fragilem truci

Commisit pelago ratem

Primus.------------

We are oblivious of perils past. The tax on commerce, levied by the

whirlwind, and by recklessness, and ignorance, far exceeds the common

calculation of those, who know little, experimentally, of the perils of

the deep; and who go not down upon the sea in ships. Precisely fifty years

ago, it was estimated, at Lloyd's, that one ship per diem, three hundred

and sixty-five ships, annually, were lost, in the open sea, and on lee

shores. And, in Lloyd's Lists, for 1830, it was stated, that six hundred

and seventy-seven British vessels were lost, during that year.

Whether or not it be attributable to that natural eagerness, which

increases, as the object of our heart's desire draws near, and is apt to

abate somewhat of our ordinary vigilance--certain it is, that calamities

of this nature are of no unfrequent occurrence, near the termination of a

voyage, and when we have almost arrived at the haven, where we would be.

About ten years ago, while enjoying the hospitality of some Southern

friends, I became acquainted with a lady, the varying expression of whose

features arrested my attention, and excited my surprise. Whenever her

countenance was lighted up, by a smile, it was for an instant only; and an

expression of solemnity, and even of sadness, immediately succeeded; as

the darkness of an autumnal sky follows the feeble flashes of electric

light.

I sought an explanation of this peculiarity, from an old friend, who knew

this lady well, Mr. Doddridge Crocker, formerly a merchant of this city,

and then a resident of Charleston.

He informed me, that, many years before, he had been a passenger, in

company with this lady and her father, together with other citizens of

Charleston, for New York, on board the Rose in Bloom. They had a

prosperous voyage, until they came in sight of the Highlands. The

passengers proceeded to make their toilets; and arrangements were in

progress, for going speedily on shore. The ship was under a press of

canvas, with a strong breeze. The wind shifted its direction suddenly, and

soon became a gale. The Rose in Bloom was capsized, and lost. The lady,

said Mr. Crocker, to whom you refer, and her father, amid the terrible

confusion, which ensued, clung to some floating article, whose buoyancy,

it soon became apparent, was not sufficient to support them both. The

filial and paternal contest may be easily conceived, each entreating the

other, to retain the only means of preservation. At length, the father

abandoned his hold, and struck out for a floating spar, at some little

distance. His struggles were ineffectual--he sunk, before his daughter's

eyes! We were, ere long, rescued from our imminent peril. The impression,

left upon her mind, was left there forever.

The reader may possibly surmise, that my leading remarks have a particular

reference to the recent shipwreck of the Elizabeth, upon the coast of New

York. This catastrophe, which is imputed to ignorance and miscalculation,

involves the loss of an interesting and intelligent young gentleman, Mr.

Horace Sumner, of this city, and of the Marquis and Marchioness Ossoli,

and their child. One of these sufferers I have known, in earlier days.

Under the quiet, unpresuming roof of her worthy father, Mr. Timothy

Fuller, I have met his daughter Margaret. Few then would have anticipated

her melancholy fate, and fewer still, that she would become an Italian

marchioness!

Let me devote the remaining space, in the present article, to those

unmitigated wretches, with hearts of flint, who rioted and revelled, amid

the sufferings of their fellow-beings. An opportunity will now be

afforded, to stamp this hellish practice, with all the force of the law,

and whatever there may be of indignant severity, in public sentiment.

Luring vessels on shore, by arranging false lights, and robbing wrecks are

crimes of great antiquity. But I had no suspicion, that even the latter

practice was carried on, so systematically, and so boldly, as it appears

to have been, at the present day, in the State of New York. The names of

the places, where these atrocities were committed, Fire Island, Patchogue,

Islip, Babylon have something of a Cornish sound, undoubtedly.

Of old, in all the northern regions of Europe, and especially, along the

coasts of the Baltic Sea, a wreck was deemed "_a Providence_;" and laws

were in force, authorizing the inhabitants to fall on, and plunder at

discretion, or, in the language, then employed--"_in naufragorum miseria

et calamitate, tanquam vultures, ad praedam currere_." Of the earlier

periods of our own history, tales have been told, which, though almost

beyond belief, would not have been related, if they had not been

somewhere, upon the outskirts or frontiers of probability. Thus

many--many--very many years ago, tradition intimates, that a worthy

clergyman of Truro was interrupted, in the middle of his discourse, by one

of his deacons, who caused the whole congregation to rise _en masse_, by

seizing his hat and crying aloud--"_a wreck!_" whereupon the good man is

reported, while putting up his notes, and opening the pulpit door, to have

exclaimed--"_Stay--stay, my Christian friends, let us all have a fair

start_."

More than five hundred years ago, in the 13th of Edward III., laws were

passed, in England, for the punishment of such offenders. These laws were

amended and confirmed, in the 12th of Anne, and 4th of George I., 26th of

George II., and 8th of Elizabeth. By the statute of 26 George II., ch.

19, plundering a vessel, in distress, or wrecked, and putting out false

lights, to deceive, were made capital felonies. By the civil law, stealing

even a plank from a vessel, in distress, or wrecked, made the offender

liable, for the entire ship and cargo. The early Neapolitan constitutions

and the laws of the Wisigoths inflicted the severest punishment, not only

upon such as plundered a wreck, but upon all, who were convicted of

neglecting to aid a vessel in distress, when in their power to render

comfort and assistance.

By the laws of the United States--I refer to the act of March 3,

1825--persons who plunder vessels in distress; and all, who obstruct the

escape of the sufferers; the exhibitors of false lights and extinguishers

of true ones, with intent to produce shipwreck, are punishable, by fine,

not exceeding five thousand dollars, and imprisonment and hard labor, not

exceeding ten years. The extreme mildness of this law has always struck me

with amazement; for, among the offenders, described in the statute, are

those, "_who shall wilfully obstruct the escape of any person, endeavoring

to save his or her life_," &c.

Since men went down upon the sea in ships, there has rarely occurred, in

our own country, a case of deeper atrocity, than the present; and, it is

to be hoped, that the tribunals of New York will exhibit a forcible

example of mercy to the whole community, by a prompt and condign

punishment of these heartless wretches.

The fiendish spirit, which, of old, animated the Buccaneers of the

Tortugas, will probably never entirely die out from the heart of man, till

the period of millennial purgation. It is impossible to conceive of

anything, in a population of hyaenas, more selfish, cold, and cruel, than

the conduct of that abandoned class, of whose existence we have abundant

evidence; to whom no music is so sweet, as that of the midnight hurricane;

and who have, immemorially, obtained the appellation of _moon-cursers_,

because they delight in that darkness, which is suited to their infernal

profession.

The laws of England have been unable to accomplish the extinction of these

miscreants. The Cornish coast, exposed, as it is, to marine disaster, has

ever been famous, for this species of crime and cruelty. It is chiefly

confined to a few parishes, on the craggy shore, between Mount's Bay and

the Lizard. "When a wreck takes place," says Mr. Haydn, page 559,

following the words of Phillips, "thousands assemble with hatchets, axes,

crowbars, &c., and many women and children fight, by habit, for the

plunder, utterly regardless of the sufferers."

For the honor of human nature I trust, that many, very many years have

gone by, since any such atrocities were practised, upon the sea-coast of

New England. The late Dr. Holbrook, of Milton, related an incident, which

occurred, during the last war with Great Britain, extending not beyond

mere pilfering; and which, in the case of one individual, at least, had

rather an amusing termination.

A vessel was wrecked, on Nantasket beach; and, her cargo was broken up,

and scattered along the shore. On the following day, Dr. Holbrook was

hastily summoned, to visit a patient, who was thought to be dying. He was

thoroughly exhausted, and had vomited, through the whole day, a substance,

in no degree offensive, but, on the contrary, exceedingly aromatic and

agreeable. Nevertheless, he was sinking from exhaustion. Dr. Holbrook

could not prevail upon the patient to admit, that he had partaken of any

other, than his customary diet. His wife stated, that he had been absent

the preceding night, and had not told her, in what manner he had been

engaged.

At last, the doctor gravely informed him, that it was folly to practise

such deception; that, unless a physician knew the nature of the poison, he

could not easily prescribe an antidote; and, that, if he persisted in his

folly, death might be the consequence.

At this, the fellow, who, with others, had been pilfering from the wreck,

became thoroughly frightened; and, with an expression of great terror,

confessed, that he feared he had _eaten rather too heartily of nutmegs_.

No. CIII.

In the Transcript of August 14, I notice an editorial criticism, upon the

recent employment of the word _catafalque_. In primitive strictness, I

believe that criticism to be perfectly correct; and that, in its original

signification, _catafalque_ cannot be understood to mean a _funeral car_.

In the _grand Dictionaire_, by Fleming & Tibbins, _catafalque_ is thus

defined--"_decoration funebre qu'on eleve au milieu d'une eglise pour y

placer le cercueil ou le representation d'un mort a qui l'on veut rendre

les plus grands honneurs_."

Herse is defined, by the same lexicographers, "_un cercueil, une biere,

voiture pour porter un mort au tombeau, un char funebre, corbillard,

pierre tumulaire provisoire_."

Thus, while _catafalque_ seems to signify an ornamental structure, erected

in the middle of a church, to support the coffin or the effigy of the

dead, whom it is intended to honor--_herse_, at the present day, is

understood to mean a coffin, a bier, a carriage to bear the dead to the

tomb, a funeral car, a van, a temporary mausoleum or gravestone.

_Herse_, whose etymology, according to Johnson, is unknown, imported,

three hundred years ago, a temporary structure, in honor of the dead; such

also is the meaning of the word _catafalque_; of this, there cannot be the

slightest doubt. In this sense, herse was employed by Shakspeare, in his

Henry IV.:

"To add to your laments

Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's herse," &c.

Johnson furnishes two definitions of the word, herse--1. A carriage, in

which the dead are conveyed to the grave. 2. A temporary monument, set

over a grave. It is quite certain, however, that the _herse_, whether

justly styled _a monument_, or not, was _not_ usually "_set over the

grave_," but more frequently, like the _catafalque_, agreeably to the

definition given above--_au milieu d'une eglise_.

No writer, probably, refers to the _herse_, so frequently, as old John

Strype, in his Memorials; and, in no instance, I believe, in the sense of

a _car_ or _vehicle_, or as a structure, "_set over the grave_."

Strype's Memorials are the records of a Roman Catholic age, or of a

period, during which, the usages of the Romish Church, in England, had not

entirely worn out their welcome with the people--the reigns of Henry

VIII., Edward VI., Bloody Mary, and Elizabeth. For, even during the reigns

of Edward VI., and of Elizabeth, not a few of those pompous practices,

which grew up, in the times of their respective predecessors, still clung

upon the imaginations of the populace, and were reluctantly surrendered.

The church is the theatre of the Romish ecclesiastic. The service is an

attractive spectacle. If the world were struck blind, who does not

perceive, that the principal supports of Romanism would be instantly taken

away! It has been the practice of all churches, that deal somewhat

extensively, in forms and ceremonies, to demand of their members, with a

greater or less degree of peremptoriness, that certain acts shall be

publicly performed--_au milieu d'une eglise_. Thus the ceremony of

marriage--the baptism of infants--the churching of women--and the burial

of the dead furnish occasion, for throwing open the temple, and exhibiting

its showy furniture to the multitude; and of verifying a pleasing saying

of the late eminent, and excellent Archbishop of Bordeaux, while Bishop of

Boston--"_If we cannot catch them, in one way, we catch them in another_."

Nothing has ever been a more prolific source of capital to the Romish

church, in former ages, than funereal parade, _au milieu d'une eglise_.

Strype, with very few exceptions, speaks of the _herse_ as a "_herse of

wax_." To this I have alluded in an earlier number. It may require a brief

explanation here. Wax candles, of divers colors and forms, were attached

to the _herse_, and the wax chandler of those days was in great request,

and often rose to wealth and distinction.

The reader will readily perceive, that the _herse_, of those early times,

was identical with the _catafalque_, if he will give his attention to the

following statements--"1554, on the 5th of October were the obsequies of

the said Duke of Norfolk celebrated at St. Mary Overy's: an herse being

made with timber, and hanged with black, with his arms, and four goodly

candlesticks gilded, and as many great tapers standing about it, all the

choir hung in black," &c. Mem. vol. iii., part 1, ch. 25. Here is no

_car_, but a temporary structure, _au milieu d'une eglise_--not "_set over

the grave_"--_the choir hung in black, &c._

To show how Strype distinguished between the _herse_ and a _car_ for

conveyance, the reader may turn to the Memorials, vol. iii., part 1, page

471, where, after describing the ceremonies, in the church, at the funeral

of the Bishop of Winchester, Strype adds--"at the gate, the corpse was put

into a _wagon_ with four horses, all covered with black," &c. This is our

modern _herse_, but was not so called by Strype.

"1557.--On the 5th of May was the Lady Chamberlin buried, with a fair

hearse of wax." The following is sufficiently explicit--"1557, the same

day (July 29) began the hearse, at Westminster, for the Lady Anne of

Cleves, consisting of carpenters' work of seven principals; being as

goodly a hearse, as had been seen." Vol iii. p. 11.

"1557.--On the 3d of August, the body of the Lady Anne of Cleves was

brought from Chelsy, where her house was, unto Westminster, to be buried;

with all the children of Westminster, and many priests and clerks." Father

Strype did not probably intend to say they were all to be buried together.

"Then the gray Amis of Paul's, and three crosses, and the monks of

Westminster, and my Lord Bishop of London, and Lord Abbot of Westminster,

rode together next the monks. Then the two secretaries, Sir Edmund Peckham

and Sir Robert Freston, cofferer to the Queen of England, my Lord Admiral

and Mr. Darcy, of Essex, and many knights and gentlemen. And before her

corpse, her servants, her banner of arms. Then her gentlemen and her head

officers; and then her chariot, with eight banners of arms, consisting of

divers arms, and four banners of images of white taffeta, wrought with

gold, and her arms. And so they passed by St. James's, and thence to

Charing Cross, with an hundred torches burning, her servants bearing them.

And the twelve beadmen of Westminster had new black gowns, bearing twelve

torches burning. There were four white branches with arms; then ladies and

gentlewomen, all in black with their horses; eight heralds of arms, in

black, with their horses, &c., &c. At the church door all did alight; and

there the Lord Bishop of London and the Lord Abbot, in their copes, did

receive the good lady, censing her. Men bore her under a canopy of black

velvet, with four black staves _and so brought her into the hearse_, and

there tarried dirge, remaining there all night, with lights burning."

Ibid. "On the 22d was the hearse of the Lady Anne of Cleves, lately set up

in Westminster Abbey, taken down, which the monks, by night, had spoiled

of all the velvet cloth, arms, banners, pensils, majesty, and valance and

all,--the which was never seen afore so done." Ibid. page 15.

Hence it is manifest, that the _herse_, in the time of Strype, was

identical with the _catafalque_ of the present day. Nevertheless, _herse_

and _catafalque_ are as clearly not convertible terms, since the latter

word can never be correctly applied to a funeral car.

Two and twenty pages of original record are devoted, by Strype, to an

account of the "ceremonies and funeral solemnities, paid to the corpse of

King Henry VIII." These pages are extremely interesting, and full of

curious detail. They also furnish additional evidence, that _the herse_

was then understood to mean all, that is now meant by _the catafalque_.

The works of Strype are not in the hands of very many; and the reader will

not be displeased to know, in what manner they dealt with the dead body of

an English King, some three hundred years ago. A few extracts are all,

that my limits will allow:--

"After the corps was cold, and seen by the Lords of the Privy Council and

others of the nobility of the realm, as appertained, commandment was given

to the apothecaries, chirurgeons, wax-chandlers, and others, to do their

duties in spurging, cleansing, bowelling, cering, embalming, furnishing,

and dressing with spices the said corpse; and also for wrapping the same

in cerecloth of many folds over the fine cloth of rains and velvet, surely

bound and trammel'd with cords of silk: which was done and executed of

them accordingly, as to the dignity of such a mighty prince it

appertaineth; and a writing in great and small letters annexed against the

breast, containing his name and style, the day and year of his death, in

like manner. And after this don, then was the plumber and carpenter

appointed to case him in lead, and to chest him. Which being don, the said

chest was covered about with blew velvet, and a cross set upon the same."

"And the corps being thus ordained, the entrails and bowels were honorably

buried in the chappel," &c. Mem., vol. 2, p. 289.

"Then was the corps in the chest had into the midds of the privy chamber,

and set upon tressels, with a rich pall of cloth of gold, and a cross

thereon, with all manner of lights thereto requisite." Ibid.

"In the said chappel was ordained a goodly, formal herse, with four-score

square tapers; every light containing two foot in length, poising in the

whole eighteen hundred weight of wax, garnished about with pensils and

escutcheons, banners and bannerols of descents. And, at the four corners,

four banners of saints, beaten in fine gold upon damask, with a majesty

thereover," &c., &c. Ibid. 290.

"The second day of the month of February, being Wednesday and Candlemas

day, betwixt eight and nine of the clock at night, the herse being

lighted, and all other things appointed and prepared, the said most royal

corps was reverendly taken and removed from the chambers, &c., and so

brought to the chappel, &c., and there it was honorably set and placed

within the said herse under a pall of rich cloth of tissue, garnished with

escutheons, and a rich cloth of gold, set with precious stones." Ibid.

292.

"And the herse, standing in the midst of said choir, was of a wonderful

state and proportion; that is to say formed in the compass of eight panes

and thirteen principals, double storied, of thirty-five foot high,

curiously wrot, painted and gilded, having in it a wonderful sort of

lights, amounting, in price, of wax, to the sum of four thousand pound

weight, and garnished underneath with a rich majesty, and a doome double

vallanced: on the which, on either side, was written the King's word, in

beaten gold, upon silk, and his arms of descents. And the whole herse was

richly fringed with double fringes of black silk and gold on either side,

both within and without very gorgeous and valiant to behold." Ibid. 295.

It does not appear, that, in those days any _single_ English word was

employed, to express the _vehicle_, which we call a _hearse_, at the

present day, unless the word _bier_ may suffice: and this, like the Roman

_feretrum_, which I take to be much like our common graveyard article with

legs, will scarcely answer the description of a four-wheeled car. I infer,

that the _feretrum_ was a thing, which might be taken up, and set down,

from the word _posito_ in Ovid's Fasti, iv., 851--

Osculaque applicuit posito suprema feretro.

The _feretrum_ and the _capulus_, among the Romans, were designed mainly,

for the poor. Citizens of any note were borne, as was our own practice,

not very many years ago, on the shoulders of their friends.