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I had nearly attained to man's estate before I understood the nature of
a coroner. I remember, when a child, to have seen a coloured print from
a well-known picture of the day, representing the night-mare. It was a
horrible representation of a goblin shape of hideous aspect, that sat
cowering upon the bosom of a sleeping figure, on whose white features
a look of painful suffering was depicted, while the clenched hands and
drawn-up feet seemed to struggle with convulsive agony. Heaven knows
how or when the thought occurred to me, but I clearly recollect my
impression that this goblin was a coroner. Some confused notion about
sitting on a corpse as one of his attributes had, doubtless, suggested
the idea; and certainly nothing contributed to increase the horror
of suicide in my eyes so much as the reflection, that the grim demon
already mentioned had some function to discharge on the occasion.
When, after the lapse of years, I heard that the eloquent and gifted
member for Finsbury was a being of this order, although I knew by that
time the injustice of my original prejudices, yet, I confess I could not
look at him in the house, without a thought of my childish fancies, and
an endeavour to trace in his comely features some faint resemblance to
the figure of the night-mare.
This strange impression of my infancy recurred strongly to my mind a few
days since, on reading a newspaper account of a sudden death.--The case
was simply that of a gentleman who, in the bosom of his family, became
suddenly seized with illness, and after a few hours expired. What was
their surprise! what their horror! to find, that no sooner was the
circumstance known, than the house was surrounded by a mob, policemen
were stationed at the doors, and twelve of the great unwashed, with a
coroner at their head, forced their entry into the house of mourning, to
deliberate on the cause of death. I can perfectly understand the value
of this practice in cases where either suspicion has attached, or where
the circumstances of the decease, as to time and place, would indicate
a violent death; but where a person, surrounded by his children, living
in all the quiet enjoyment of an easy and undisturbed existence, drops
off by some one of the ills that flesh is heir to, only a little more
rapidly than his neighbour at next door, why this should be a case for
a coroner and his gang, I cannot, for the life of me, conceive. In the
instance I allude to, the family offered the fullest information: they
explained that the deceased had been liable for years to an infirmity
likely to terminate in this way. The physician who attended him
corroborated the statement; and, in fact, it was clear the case was
one of those almost every-day occurrences where the thread of life is
snapped, not unravelled. This, however, did not satisfy the coroner, who
had, as he expressed it, a “duty to perform,” and, who, certainly had
five guineas for his fee: he was a “medical coroner,” too, and therefore
he would' examine for himself. Thus, in the midst of the affliction and
bereavement of a desolate family, the frightful detail of an inquest,
with all its attendant train of harrowing and heart-rending inquiries,
is carried on, simply because it is permissible by the law, and the
coroner may enter where the king cannot.
We are taught in the litany to pray against sudden death; but up to this
moment I never knew it was illegal. Dreadful afflictions as apoplexy
and aneurism are, it remained for our present civilisation to make them
punishable by a statute. The march of intellect, not satisfied with
directing us in life, must go a step farther and teach us how to die.
Fashionable diseases the world has been long acquainted with, but an
“illegal inflammation,” and a “criminal hemorrhage” have been reserved
for the enlightened age we live in.
Newspapers will no longer inform us, in the habitual phrase, that Mr.
Simpkins died suddenly at his house at Hampstead; but, under the head
of “Shocking outrage,” we shall read, “that after a long life of great
respectability and the exhibition of many virtues, this unfortunate
gentleman, it is hoped in a moment of mental alienation, 'went off with
a disease of the heart. The affliction of his surviving relatives
at this frightful act may be conceived, but cannot be described. His
effects, according to the statute, have been confiscated to the crown,
and a deodand of fifty shillings awarded on the apothecary who attended
him. It is hoped, that the universal execration which attends cases of
this nature may deter others from the same course; and, we confess,
our observations are directed with a painful, but we trust, a
powerful interest to certain elderly gentlemen in the neighbourhood of
Islington.” _Verb. sat._
Under these sad circumstances it behoves us to look a little about, and
provide against such a contingency. It is then earnestly recommended
to heads of families, that when registering the birth of a child, they
should also include some probable or possible malady of which he may,
could, would, should, or ought to die, in the course of time. This
will show, by incontestable evidence, that the event was at least
anticipated, and being done at the earliest period of life, no reproach
can possibly lie for want of premeditation. The register might run
thus:--
Giles Tims, son of Thomas and Mary Tims, born on the 9th of June, Kent
street, Southwark--dropsy, typhus, or gout in the stomach.
It by no means follows, that he must wait for one or other of these
maladies to carry him off. Not at all; he may range at will through the
whole practice of physic, and adopt his choice. The registry only
goes to show, that he does not mean to sneak out of the world in any
under-bred way, nor bolt out of life with the abrupt precipitation of a
Frenchman after a dinner party. I have merely thrown out this hint here
as a warning to my many friends, and shall now proceed to other and more
pleasing topics.