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diff --git a/39675-h/39675-h.htm b/39675-h/39675-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5552117 --- /dev/null +++ b/39675-h/39675-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18646 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + Dealings with the Dead, by A Sexton of the Old School—A Project Gutenberg eBook + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + body {margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right; font-style: normal;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .giant {font-size: 200%} + .huge {font-size: 150%} + .large {font-size: 125%} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .poem {margin-left: 15%;} + .index {margin-left: 20%;} + .title {text-align: center; font-size: 150%;} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .center {text-align: center;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcaplc {text-transform: lowercase; font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + a:link {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#6633cc; text-decoration:none} + + .spacer {padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Dealings With The Dead, by A Sexton of the Old School + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: Dealings With The Dead + Volume II + +Author: A Sexton of the Old School + +Release Date: May 12, 2012 [EBook #39675] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEALINGS WITH THE DEAD *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Meredith Bach and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/dealings.jpg" alt="Dealings with the Dead." /></div> + + +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="huge">DEALINGS</span></p> +<p class="center">WITH</p> +<p class="center"><span class="giant">THE DEAD.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><small>BY</small><br /> +<span class="large">A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">VOLUME II.</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">BOSTON:<br /> +PUBLISHED BY DUTTON AND WENTWORTH,<br /> +<span class="smcap">33 and 35 Congress Street:</span><br /> +<span class="smcaplc">AND</span><br /> +TICKNOR AND FIELDS,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Corner of Washington and School Streets</span>.<br /> +MDCCCLVI.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<p class="center">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by<br /> +<span class="smcaplc">DUTTON AND WENTWORTH</span>,<br /> +in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> +<p class="title">Dealings with the Dead.</p> +<p class="center">BY A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="No_XC" id="No_XC"></a>No. XC.</h2> + + +<p>My earliest recollections of some, among the dead and buried aristocracy +of Boston, find a ready embodiment, in cocked hats of enormous +proportions, queues reaching to their middles, cloaks of scarlet +broadcloth, lined with silk, and faced with velvet, and just so short, as +to exhibit the swell of the leg, silk stockings, and breeches, highly +polished shoes, and large, square, silver buckles, embroidered vests, with +deep lappet pockets, similar to those, which were worn, in the age of +<i>Louis Quatorze</i>, shirts ruffled, at the bosoms and sleeves, doeskin or +beaver gloves, and glossy, black, Surinam walking canes, six feet in +length, and commonly carried by the middle.</p> + +<p>Of the last of the Capulets we know nearly all, that it is desirable to +know. Of the last of the cocked hats we are not so clearly certified.</p> + +<p>The dimensions of the military cocked hat were terrible; and, like those +enormous, bear skin caps, which are in use, at present, eminently +calculated to put the enemy to flight. I have seen one of those enormous +cocked hats, which had long been preserved, as a memorial of the wearer’s +gallantry. In one corner, and near the extremity, was a round hole, said +to have been made by a musket ball, at the battle of White Plains, Nov. +30, 1776. As I contemplated this relic, it was impossible to avoid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> the +comforting reflection, that the head of the gallant proprietor was at a +very safe distance from the bullet.</p> + +<p>After the assassination of Henry IV., and greatly to the amusement of the +gay and giddy courtiers of his successor, Louis XIII.—old Sully +obstinately adhered to the costume of the former reign. Colonel Barnabas +Clarke was very much of Sully’s way of thinking. “And who,” asks the +reader, “was Colonel Barnabas Clarke?” He was a pensioner of the United +States, and died a poor, though highly respected old man, in the town of +Randolph, and Commonwealth of Massachusetts. For several years, he +commanded the third Regiment of the first Brigade, and first Division of +infantry; and he wore the largest cocked hat and the longest queue in the +known world. He was a broad-shouldered, strong-hearted Revolutioner. Let +me take the reader aside, for a brief space; and recite to him a pleasant +anecdote of old Colonel Barnabas Clarke, which occurred, under my own +observation, when John Brooks—whose patent of military nobilty bears date +at Saratoga, but who was one of nature’s noblemen from his cradle—was +governor of Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>There was a militia muster of the Norfolk troops, and they were reviewed +by Governor Brooks. They were drawn up in line. The Governor, bare headed, +with his suite, had moved slowly down, in front of the array, each +regiment, as he passed, paying the customary salute.</p> + +<p>The petty <i>chapeau militaire</i> had then become almost universal, and, with, +or without, its feather and gold edgings, was all over the field. Splendid +epaulettes and eaglets glittered, on the shoulders of such, as were +entitled to wear them. Prancing horses were caracoling and curvetting, in +gaudy trappings. In the midst of this showy array, in front of his +regiment, bolt upright, upon the back of his tall, chestnut horse, that, +upon the strength of an extra allowance of oats, pawed the ground, and +seemed to forget, that he was in the plough, the day before, sat an old +man, of rugged features, and large proportions. Upon his head was that +enormous cocked hat, of other days—upon his shoulders, scarcely +distinguishable, was a small pair of tarnished epaulettes—the gray hairs +at the extremity of his prodigious queue lay upon the crupper of his +saddle—his ancient boots shaped to the leg, his long shanked spurs, his +straight silver-hilted sword, and lion-headed pistols were of 1776. Such +was the outer man of old Colonel Barnabas Clarke.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>As the Governor advanced, upon the line of the third Regiment of the first +Brigade, the fifes of that regiment commenced their shrill whistle, and +the drums began to roll; and, at the appropriate moment, the veteran +saluted his excellency, in that rather angular style, which was common, in +the days of our military fathers.</p> + +<p>At that moment, Governor Brooks checked his horse, and, replacing his hat +upon his head, dismounted, and walked towards the Colonel, who, +comprehending the intention, returned his sword to its scabbard, and came +to the ground, with the alertness of a much younger man. They met midway, +between the line and the reviewing cortege—in an instant, each grasped +the other’s hand, with the ardor of men, who are mutually endeared, by the +recollection of partnership, in days of danger and daring—they had been +fellow lodgers, within the intrenchments of Burgoyne, on the memorable +night of October 7, 1777. After a few words of mutual respect and +affection, they parted—the review went forward—the fifers and drummers +outdid themselves—the beholders sent forth an irrepressible shout—and +when old Colonel Barnabas got up once again, upon his chestnut horse, I +thought he looked considerably more like old Frederick, hat, queue, and +all, than he did, before he got down. He looked as proud as Tamerlane, +after he had caged the Sultan, Bajazet—yet I saw him dash a tear from his +eye, with the sleeve of his coat—I found one in my own. How frail we +are!—there is one there now!</p> + +<p>While contemplating the remarkable resurrection that has occurred, within +a few years, of old chairs and tables, porcelain and candlesticks, I +confidently look forward to the resurrection of cocked hats. They were +really very becoming. I speak not of those vasty beavers, manufactured, of +yore, by that most accomplished, gentlemanly, and facetious of all +hatters, Mr. Nathaniel Balch, No. 72 old Cornhill; but such as he made, +for his excellent friend, and boon companion, Jeremiah Allen, Esquire, +high Sheriff of Suffolk. When trimmed with gold lace, and adorned with the +official cockade, it was a very becoming affair.</p> + +<p>No man carried the fashion, as I have described it, in the commencement of +this article, to a greater extent, than Mr. Thomas Marshall, more commonly +known as <i>Tommy Marshall</i>. He was a tailor, and his shop and house were in +State Street,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> near the present site of the Boston Bank. In London, his +leisurely gait, finished toilette, admirable personal equipments, and +exceedingly composed and courtly carriage and deportment would have passed +him off, for a gentleman, living at his ease, or for one of the nobility. +Mr. Marshall was remarkable, for the exquisite polish, and classical cut +of his cocked hat. He was much on ’change, in those primitive days, and +highly respected, for his true sense of honor. Though the most +accomplished tailor of his day, no one ever suspected him of cabbage.</p> + +<p>When I began the present article, it was my design to have written upon a +very different subject—but since all my cogitations have been “<i>knocked +into a cocked hat</i>,” I may as well close this article, with a short +anecdote of Tommy Marshall.</p> + +<p>There was a period—there often is, in similar cases—during which it was +doubtful, if the celebrated James Otis was a sane or an insane man. During +that period, he was engaged for the plaintiff, in a cause, in which Mr. +Marshall was a witness, for the defendant. After a tedious cross +examination, Mr. Otis perceived the impossibility of perplexing the +witness, or driving him into any discrepancy; and, in a moment of despair, +his mind, probably, not being perfectly balanced, he lifted his finger, +and shaking it, knowingly, at the witness, exclaimed—“<i>Ah, Tommy +Marshall, Tommy Marshall, I know you!</i>” “<i>And what do you know of me, +sir?</i>” cried the witness, doubling his fist in the very face of Mr. Otis, +and stamping on the floor—“<i>I know you’re a tailor, Tommy!</i>”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCI" id="No_XCI"></a>No. XCI.</h2> + + +<p>Wake—Vigil—Wæcan—import one and the same thing. So we are informed, by +that learned antiquary, John Whitaker, in his History of Manchester, +published in 1771. Originally, this was a festival, kept by watching, +through the night, preceding the day, on which a church was dedicated. We +are told, by Shakspeare—</p> + +<p class="poem">He that outlives this day, and sees old age,<br /> +Will yearly, on the <i>vigil</i>, feast his neighbors,<br /> +And say <i>tomorrow</i> is Saint Crispian.</p> + +<p>These vigils, like the <i>agapæ</i>, or love-feasts, fell, erelong, into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +disrepute, and furnished occasion, for disgraceful revelry and riot.</p> + +<p>The Irish <i>Wake</i>, as it is popularly called, however it may have sprung +from the same original stock, is, at present, a very different affair. +Howling, at a wake, is akin to the ululation of the mourning women of +Greece, Rome, and Judea, to which I have alluded, in a former number. The +object of the Irish <i>Wake</i> is to rouse the spirit, which, otherwise, it is +apprehended, might remain inactive, unwilling, or unable, to quit its +mortal frame—to <i>wake</i> the soul, not precisely, “by tender strokes of +art,” but by long-continued, nocturnal wailings and howlings. In practice, +it has ever been accounted extremely difficult, to get the Irish soul +fairly off, either upward or downward, without an abundance of +intoxicating liquor.</p> + +<p>The philosophy of this is too high for me—I cannot attain unto it. I know +not, whether the soul goes off, in a fit of disgust, at the senseless and +insufferable uproar, or is fairly frightened out of its tabernacle. This I +know, that boon companions, and plenty of liquor are the very last means I +should think of employing, to induce a true-born Irishman, to give up the +ghost. I have read with pleasure, in the Pilot, a Roman Catholic paper of +this city, an editorial discommendation of this preposterous custom.</p> + +<p>However these barbarous proceedings may serve to outrage the dignity, and +even the decency, of death, they have not always been absolutely useless. +If the ravings, and rantings, the drunkenness, and the bloody brawls, that +have sometimes occurred, during the celebration of an <i>Irish wake</i>, have +proved unavailing, in raising the dead, or in exciting the lethargic +soul—they have, certainly, sometimes sufficed, to restore consciousness +to the cataleptic, who were supposed to be dead, and about to be committed +to the grave.</p> + +<p>In April, 1804, Barney O’Brien, to all appearance, died suddenly, in the +town of Ballyshannon. He had been a terrible bruiser, and so much of a +profligate, that it was thought all the priests, in the county of Donegal, +would have as much as they could do, of a long summer’s day, to confess +him. It was concluded, on all hands, that more than ordinary efforts would +be required, for the <i>waking</i> of Barney O’Brien’s soul. A great crowd was +accordingly gathered to the shanty of death. The mountain dew was +supplied, without stint. The howling was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> terrific. Confusion began. The +altercation of tongues was speedily followed, by the collision of fists, +and the cracking of shelalahs. The yet uncovered coffin was overturned. +The shock, in an instant, terminated the trance. Barney O’Brien stood +erect, before the terrified and flying group, six feet and four inches in +his winding sheet, screaming, at the very top of his lungs, as he +rose—“<i>For the love o’ the blissed Jasus, jist a dhrap o’ the crathur, +and a shelalah!</i>”</p> + +<p>In a former number, I have alluded to the subject of premature interment. +A writer, in the London Quarterly, vol. lxiii. p. 458, observes, that +“there exists, among the poor of the metropolitan districts, an inordinate +dread of premature burial.” After referring to a contrivance, in the +receiving houses of Frankfort and Munich,—a ring, attached to the finger +of the corpse, and connected with a lightly hung bell, in the watcher’s +room—he significantly asks—“<i>Has the corpse bell at Frankfort and Munich +ever yet been rung?</i>”—For my own part, I have no correspondence with the +sextons there, and cannot tell. It may possibly have been rung, while the +watcher slept! After admitting the possibility of premature burial, this +writer says, he should be content with Shakspeare’s test—“<i>This feather +stirs; she lives</i>.” This may be a very good affirmative test. But, as a +negative test, it would be good for little—<i>this feather stirs not; she +is dead</i>. In cases of catalepsy, it often happens, that a feather will not +stir; and even the more trustworthy test—the mirror—will furnish no +evidence of life.</p> + +<p>To doubt the fact of premature interment is quite as absurd, as to credit +all the tales, in this connection, fabricated by French and German +wonder-mongers. During the existence of that terrible epidemic, which has +so recently passed away, the necessity, real or imagined, of removing the +corpses, as speedily as possible, has, very probably, occasioned some +instances of premature interment.</p> + +<p>On the 28th of June, 1849, a Mr. Schridieder was supposed to be dead of +cholera, at St. Louis, and was carried to the grave; where a noise in the +coffin was heard, and, upon opening it, he was found to be alive.</p> + +<p>In the month of July, 1849, a Chicago paper contained the following +statement:—</p> + +<p>“We know a gentleman now residing in this city, who was attacked by the +cholera, in 1832, and after a short time, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> supposed to have died. He +was in the collapsed state, gave not the least sign of life, and when a +glass was held over his mouth, there was no evidence that he still +breathed. But, after his coffin was obtained, he revived, and is now +living in Chicago, one of our most estimable citizens.”</p> + +<p>“Another case, of a like character, occurred near this city, yesterday. A +man who was in the collapsed state, and to all appearances dead, became +reanimated after his coffin was procured. He revived slightly—again +apparently died—again revived slightly—and finally died and was buried.”</p> + +<p>I find the following, in the Boston Atlas of August 23, 1849:—</p> + +<p>“A painful occurrence has come to light in Baltimore, which creates +intense excitement. The remains of the venerable D. Evans Reese, who died +suddenly on Friday evening, were conveyed to the Light Street +burying-ground, and while they were placed in the vault, the hand of a +human being was discovered protruding from one of the coffins deposited +there. On a closer examination, those present were startled to find the +hand was firmly clenched, the coffin burst open, and the body turned +entirely over, leaving not a doubt that the unfortunate being had been +buried alive. The corpse was that of a very respectable man, who died, +apparently, very suddenly, and whose body was placed in the vault on +Friday last.”</p> + +<p>The <i>Recherches Medico-legales sur l’incertitude des risques de la mort, +les dangers dés inhumations précipiteés, les moyens de constater les décès +et de rappeler á la vie ceux qui sont en etat de mort apparente</i>, by I. de +Fontenelle, is a very curious production. In a review of this work, and of +the <i>Recherches Physiologiques, sur la vie et la mort</i>, by Bichat, in the +London Quarterly, vol. lxxxv. page 369, the writer remarks—“<i>A gas is +developed in the decaying body, which mimics, by its mechanical force, +many of the movements of life. So powerful is this gas, in corpses, which +have laid long in the water, that M. Devergie, the physician at the +Morgue, at Paris, says that, unless secured to the table, they are often +heaved up and thrown to the ground.</i>”</p> + +<p>Upon this theory, the writer proposes, to account for those posthumous +changes of position, which are known, sometimes to have taken place. It +may serve to explain some of these occurrences. But the formation of this +gas, in a greater or less degree, must be universal, while a change in the +position is comparatively rare. The curiosity of friends often leads to an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>inspection of the dead, in every stage of decomposition. However valuable +the theory, in the writer’s estimation, the generation of the most +powerful gas would scarcely be able to throw the body entirely out of the +coffin, with its arms outstretched towards the portal of the tomb; of +which, and of similar changes, there exist well authenticated records.</p> + +<p>It is quite probable, that the <i>Irish wake</i> may have originated, in this +very dread of premature interment, strangely blended with certain +spiritual fancies, respecting the soul’s reluctance to quit its tenement +of clay.</p> + +<p>After relating the remarkable story of Asclepiades of Prusa in Bithynia, +who restored to life an individual, then on his way to the funeral +pile—Bayle, vol. ii. p. 379, Lond. 1735, relates the following +interesting tale. A peasant of Poictou was married to a woman, who, after +a long fit of sickness, fell into a profound lethargy, which so closely +resembled death, that the poor people gathered round, and laid out the +peasant’s helpmate, for burial. The peasant assumed a becoming expression +of sorrow, which utterly belied that exceeding great joy, that is natural +to every man, when he becomes perfectly assured, that the tongue of a +scolding wife is hushed forever.</p> + +<p>The people of that neighborhood were very poor; and, either from economy +or taste, coffins were not used among them. The corpses were borne to the +grave, simply enveloped in their shrouds, as we are told, by Castellan, is +the custom, among the Turks. Those who bore the body, moved, +inadvertently, rather too near a hedge, at the roadside, and, a sharp +thorn pricking the leg of the corpse, the trance was broken—the supposed +defunct sprang up on end—and began to scold, as vigorously as ever.</p> + +<p>The disappointed peasant had fourteen years more of it. At the expiration +of that term, the good woman pined away, and appeared to die, once more. +She was again borne toward the grave. When the bearers drew near to the +spot, where the remarkable revival had occurred, upon a former occasion, +the widower became very much excited; and, at length, unable to restrain +his emotions, audibly exclaimed—“<i>don’t go too near that hedge!</i>”</p> + +<p>In a number of the London Times, for 1821, there is an account of the +directions, given by an old Irish expert in such matters, who was about to +die, respecting his own <i>wake</i>—“Recollect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> to put three candles at the +head of the bed, after ye lay me out, two at the foot, and one at each +side. Mind now and put a plate with the salt on it, just atop of my +breast. And d’ye hear—have plinty o’ tobacky and pipes enough; and +remimber to have the punch strong. And—blundenoons, what the devil’s the +use o’ pratin t’ye—sure it’s mysilf knows ye’ll be after botching it, as +I’ll not be there mysel.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCII" id="No_XCII"></a>No. XCII.</h2> + + +<p>That man must be an incorrigible <i>fool</i>, who does not, occasionally, like +the Vicar of Wakefield, find himself growing weary of being always <i>wise</i>. +In this sense, there are few men of sixty winters, who have not been +guilty of being over-wise—of assuming, at some period of their lives, the +port and majesty of the bird of Minerva—of exercising that talent, for +silence and solemnity, ascribed by the French nobleman, as More relates, +in his travels, to the English nation. A man, thus protected—dipped, as +it were, in the waters of Lethe, <i>usque ad calcem</i>—is truly a pleasant +fellow. There is no such thing as getting hold of him—there he is, +conservative as a tortoise, <i>unguibus retractis</i>. He seems to think the +exchange of intellectual commodities, entirely out of the question; he +will have none of your folly, and he holds up his own superlative wisdom, +as a cow, of consummate resolution, holds up her milk. If society were +thus composed, what a concert of voices there would be, in unison with +Job’s—<i>we would not live alway</i>. Life would be no other, than a long +funeral procession—the dead burying the dead. I am decidedly in favor of +a cheerful philosophy. Jeremy Taylor says, that, “<i>the slightest going off +from a man’s natural temper is a species of drunkenness</i>.” There are some +men, certainly, who seem to think, that total abstinence, from every +species of merriment, is a wholesome preparative, for a residence in +Paradise. The Preacher saith of laughter, <i>it is mad, and of mirth, what +doeth it?</i> But in the very next chapter, he declares, <i>there is a time to +dance and a time to sing</i>. We are told in the book of Proverbs, that <i>a +merry heart doeth good, like a medicine</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>There has probably seldom been a wiser man than Democritus of Abdera, who +was called the laughing philosopher; and of whom Seneca says, in his work +De Ira, ii. c. 10, <i>Democritum aiunt nunquam sine risu in publico fuisse; +adeo nihil illi videbatur serium eorum, quæ serio gerebantur</i>: Democritus +never appeared in public, without laughter in his countenance; so that +nothing seemed to affect him seriously, however much so it might affect +the rest of mankind.—The Abderites, with some exceptions, thought him +mad; or, in Beattie’s words, when describing his minstrel boy—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Some deem’d him wondrous wise, and some believ’d him mad.”</p> + +<p>These Abderites, who were, notoriously, the most stupid of the Thracians, +looked upon Democritus precisely as the miserable monks, about Oxford, +looked upon Roger Bacon, in the thirteenth century—they believed him a +magician, or a madman.</p> + +<p>To laugh and grow fat is a proverb. Whether Democritus grew fat or not, I +am unable to say; but he died at a great age, having passed one hundred +years; and he died cheerfully, as he had lived temperately. Lucretius says +of him, lib. iii. v. 1052—</p> + +<p class="poem">“<i>Sponte sua letho caput obvius obtulit ipse</i>.”</p> + +<p>The tendency of his philosophy was to ensure longevity. The grand aim and +end of it all were comprehended, in one word, ευφυμια, or the +enjoyment of a tranquil state of mind.</p> + +<p>There is much good-natured wisdom, in the command, and in the axiom of +Horace—</p> + +<p class="poem">“<i>Misce stultitiam consiliis brevem<br /> +Dulce est desipere in loco</i>”—</p> + +<p>which means, if an off-hand version will suffice—</p> + +<p class="poem">Mix with your cares a little folly,<br /> +’Tis pleasant sometimes to be jolly.</p> + +<p>One of the most acceptable images, presented by Sir Walter Scott, is that +of Counsellor Pleydell, perched upon the table, playing at high jinks, who +compliments Colonel Mannering, by continuing the frolic, and telling him, +that, if a fool had entered, instead of a man of sense, he should have +come down immediately.</p> + +<p>My New England readers would be very much surprised, if they had any +personal knowledge of the late excellent and venerable Bishop Griswold, to +be told, that, among his works, there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> was an edition of Mother Goose’s +Melodies, with <i>prolegomina, notæ, et variæ lectiones</i>; well—there is no +such thing there. But every one knows, that the comic romance of +Bluebeard, as it is performed on the stage, was written by Bishop Heber, +and is published in his works. Every one knows that Hannah More wrote +tolerable plays, and was prevented, by nothing but her sex, from being a +bishop. Every one knows that bishops and archbishops have done very funny +things—<i>in loco</i>. And every one knows, that all this is quite as +respectable, as being very reverently dull, and wearing the phylactery for +life—<i>stand off, for I am stupider than thou</i>.</p> + +<p>I have now before me a small octavo volume—a very <i>bijou</i> of a book, with +the following title—<i>Arundines Cami, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Lusus +Canori</i>, and bearing, for its motto—<i>Equitare in arundine longa</i>. This +book is printed at Cambridge, England; and I have never seen a more +beautiful specimen of typography. The work is edited by Henry Drury, Vicar +of Wilton: and it contains a collection of Greek and Latin versions; by +Mr. Drury himself, and by several good, holy, and learned men—Butler, +late Bishop of Litchfield—Richard Porson—Hodgson, S. J. B. of Eton +College—Vaughan, Principal of Harrow—Macaulay—Hallam—Law—and many +others.</p> + +<p>The third edition of this delightful book was published in 1846. And now +the reader would know something of the originals, which these grave and +learned men have thought it worthy of their talents and time, to turn into +Greek and Latin. I scarcely know where to select a specimen, among +articles, every one of which is prepared, with such exquisite taste, and +such perfect knowledge of the capabilities of the language employed. Among +the readers of the Transcript, I happen to know some fair scholars, who +would relish a Greek epigram, on any subject, as highly, as others enjoy a +pointed paragraph in English, on the subject of rum and molasses. Here is +a Greek version of the ditty—“What care I how black I be,” by Mr. +Hawtrey, Principal of Eton, which I would transcribe, were it not that a +Greek word, now and then, presented in the common type, suggests to me, +that you may not have a Greek font. It may be found by those, who are of +the fancy, on page 49 of the work.</p> + +<p>Here is a version by Mr. Hodgson—how the shrill, thready voice of my dear +old nurse rings in my ears, while reading the original! God reward her +kind, untiring spirit—she has gone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> where little Pickles cease from +troubling, and where weary nurses are at rest:—</p> + +<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker’s man,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So I do, master, as fast as I can.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with C,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then it will answer for Charley and me.</span><br /> +<br /> +Tunde mihi dulcem pistor, mihi tunde farinam.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tunditur, O rapida tunditur illa manu.</span><br /> +Punge decenter acu, tituloque inscribe magistri;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sic mihi, Carolulo, sic erit esca meo.</span></p> + +<p>The contributions of Mr. H. Drury, the editor, are inferior to none—</p> + +<p class="poem">There was an old man in Tobago,<br /> +Who liv’d on rice gruel and sago;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till, much to his bliss,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His physician said this:</span><br /> +‘To a leg, sir, of mutton you may go.’<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Senex æger in Tarento</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">De oryxa et pulmento</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Vili vixerat invento;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Donec medicus</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Seni inquit valde læto,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">‘Senex æger, o gaudeto,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Crus ovinum, jam non veto</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Tibi benedicus.’</span></p> + +<p>Decidedly the most felicitous, though by no means the most elaborate in +the volume, is the following, which is also by the editor, Mr. Drury—</p> + +<p class="poem">Hey diddle diddle! The cat and the fiddle!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cow jumped over the moon;</span><br /> +The little dog laughed to see such sport;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the dish ran away with the spoon.</span><br /> +<br /> +Hei didulum—atque iterum didulum! Felisque fidesque!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vacca super lunæ cornua prosiluit.</span><br /> +Nescio qua catulus risit dulcedine ludi;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Abstulit et turpi lanx cochleare fuga.</span></p> + +<p>A Latin version of Goldsmith’s mad dog, by H. J. Hodgson, is very clever, +and there are some on solemn subjects, and of a higher order.</p> + +<p>How sturdily these little ditties, the works of authors dead, buried, and +unknown, have breasted the current of time! I had rather be the author of +<i>Hush-a-bye baby, upon the tree top</i>, than of Joel Barlow’s Vision of +Columbus—for, though I have always perceived the propriety of putting +babies to sleep, at proper times,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> I have never entirely appreciated the +wisdom of doing the very same thing to adults, at all hours of the day.</p> + +<p>What powerful resurrectionists these nursery melodies are! Moll Pitcher of +Endor had not a greater power over the dry bones of Samuel, than has the +ring of some one of these little chimes, to bring before us, with all the +freshness of years ago, that good old soul, who sat with her knitting +beside us, and rocked our cradle, and watched our progress from petticoats +to breeches; and gave notice of the first tooth; and the earliest words; +and faithfully reported, from day to day, all our marvellous achievements, +to one, who, had she been a queen, would have given us her sceptre for a +hoop stick.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCIII" id="No_XCIII"></a>No. XCIII.</h2> + + +<p>Byles is a patronymic of extraordinary rarity. It will be sought for, +without success, in the voluminous record of Alexander Chalmers. It is not +in the Biographia Britannica; though, even there, we may, occasionally, +discover names, which, according to Cowper, were not born for +immortality—</p> + +<p class="poem">“<i>Oh fond attempt to give a deathless lot<br /> +To names ignoble, born to be forgot!</i>”</p> + +<p>Even in that conservative record of choice spirits, the Boston Directory +for 1849, this patronymic is nowhere to be found.</p> + +<p>Henry Byles came from Sarum in England; and settled at Salisbury in this +Commonwealth, as early as 1640. I am not aware, that any individual, +particularly eminent, and bearing this uncommon name, has ever existed +among us, excepting that eccentric clergyman, who, within the bounds of +our little peninsula, at least, is still occasionally mentioned, as “<i>the +celebrated Mather Byles</i>.” I am aware, that he had a son, who bore the +father’s prænomen, and graduated at Harvard, in 1751; became a doctor of +divinity, in 1770; was a minister, in New London, and dismissed from his +charge, in 1769; officiated, as an Episcopal clergyman, in Boston, for +several years; went to St. Johns, N. B., at the time of the revolution; +officiated there; and died, March 12, 1814.</p> + +<p>But my dealings, this evening, are with “<i>the celebrated Mather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> Byles</i>,” +who was born of worthy parents, in the town of Boston, March 26, 1706. His +father was an Englishman. Through the maternal line, he had John Cotton +and Richard Mather, for his ancestors. He graduated, at Harvard, in 1725; +was settled at the Hollis Street Church, Dec. 20, 1733; created D. D. at +Aberdeen, in 1765; was, on account of his toryism, separated from his +people, in 1776; and died of paralysis, July 5, 1788, at the age of 82. He +was twice married; a niece of Governor Belcher was his first, and the +daughter of Lieut. Governor Tailer, his second wife.</p> + +<p>I should be faithless, indeed, were I to go forward, without one passing +word, for precious memory, in regard to those two perennial damsels, the +daughters of Dr. Byles. How many visitations, at that ancient manse in +Nassau Street! To how many of the sex—young—aye, and of no particular +age—it has occurred, at the nick of time, when there was nothing under +Heaven else to be done, to exclaim—“What an excellent occasion, for a +visit to Katy and Polly!” And the visit was paid; and the descendants of +“<i>the celebrated Mather Byles</i>” were so glad to see the visitors—and it +was so long since their last visit—and it must not be so long again—and +then the old stories, over and over, for the thousandth time—and the +concerted merriment of these amiable visitors, as if the tales were quite +as new, as the year itself, upon the first January morn—and the filial +delights, that beamed upon the features of these vestals, at the effect, +produced, by the recitation of stories, which really seemed to be made of +that very <i>everlasting</i> of which the breeches of our ancestors were +made—and then the exhibition of those relics, and <i>heir looms</i>, or what +remained of them, after some thirty years’ presentation to all comers, +which, in one way and another, were associated with the memory of “<i>the +celebrated Mather Byles</i>,”—and then the oh don’t gos—and oh fly not +yets—and when will you come agains!</p> + +<p>The question naturally arises, and, rather distrustingly, demands an +answer—what was “<i>the celebrated Mather Byles</i>”—celebrated for? In the +first place, he was <i>Sanctæ Theologiæ Doctor</i>. But his degree was from +Aberdeen; and the Scotch colleges, at that period, were not particularly +coy. With a cousin at court, and a little gold in hand, it was somewhat +less difficult, for a clergyman, without very great learning, or talent, +to obtain a doctorate, at Aberdeen, in 1765, than for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> camel, of unusual +proportions, to go through the eye of a very small needle. Even in our +cis-atlantic colleges, these bestowments do not always serve to mark +degrees of merit, with infallible accuracy—for God’s sun does not more +certainly shine, upon the just and upon the unjust, than doctorates have, +in some cases, fallen upon wise men, and upon fools. That, which, charily +and conservatively bestowed, may well be accounted an honor, necessarily +loses its value, by diffusion and prostitution. Not many years ago, the +worthy president of one of our colleges, being asked, how it happened, +that a doctorate of divinity had been given to a certain person of +ordinary talents, and very little learning; replied, with infinite +<i>naiveté</i>—“<i>Why —— had it; and —— had it; and —— had it; and we +didn’t like to hurt his feelings</i>.”</p> + +<p>Let us not consider the claims of Mather Byles as definitely settled, by +the faculty at Aberdeen.—He corresponded with Pope, and with Lansdowne, +and with Watts. The works of the latter were sent to him, by the author, +from time to time; and, among the treasures, highly prized by the family, +was a presentation copy, in quarto, from Pope, of his translation of the +Odyssey. This correspondence, however, so far as I was ever able to gather +information from the daughters, many years ago, did not amount to much; +the letters were very few, and very far between; on the one side +complimentary, and bearing congratulations upon the occasion of some +recent literary success; and, on the other, fraught with grateful +civility; and accompanied, as is often the case, with copies of some of +the author’s productions.</p> + +<p>Let me here present a somewhat disconnected anecdote: At the sale of the +library of Dr. Byles, a large folio Bible, in French, was purchased, by a +private individual. This Bible had been presented to the French Protestant +Church, in Boston, by Queen Anne; and, at the time, when it came to the +hands of Dr. Byles, was the last relic of that church, whose visible +temple had been erected in School Street, about 1716. Whoever desires to +know more of these French Protestants, may turn to the “Memoir,” by Dr. +Holmes, or to vol. xxii. p. 62, of the Massachusetts Historical +Collections.</p> + +<p>Dr. Byles wrote, in prose and verse, and quite <i>respectably</i> in both. +There is not more of the spirit of poetry, however, in his metrical +compositions, than in his performances in prose. His versification was +easy, and the style of his prose works was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>unaffected; his sentences were +usually short, and never rendered unintelligible, by the multiplication of +adjuncts, or by any affectation of sententious brevity. Yet nothing, that +I have ever met with, from the pen of Dr. Byles, is particularly +remarkable for its elegance; and it is in vain to look, among such of his +writings, as have been preserved, for the evidences of extraordinary +powers of thought. Some dozen of his published sermons are still extant. +We have also several of his essays, in the New England Weekly Journal; a +poem on the death of George I., and the accession of George II., in 1727; +a sort of monodial address to Governor Belcher, on the death of his lady; +a poem called the Conflagration; and a volume of metrical matters, +published in 1744.</p> + +<p>If his celebrity had depended upon these and other literary labors, he +would scarcely have won the appellation of “<i>the celebrated Mather +Byles</i>.”</p> + +<p>The <i>correspondent</i> of Byles, Isaac Watts, never imagined, that the time +would arrive, when his own voluminous lyrics and his address to “<i>Great +Gouge</i>,” would be classed, in the <i>Materia Poetica</i>, as soporifics, and +scarcely find one, so poor, as to do them reverence; while millions of +lisping tongues still continued to repeat, from age to age, till the +English language should be forgotten,</p> + +<p class="poem">“Let dogs delight<br /> +To bark and bite,<br /> +For God hath made them so;<br /> +Let bears and lions<br /> +Growl and fight,<br /> +For ’tis their nature to.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Byles himself could not have imagined, while putting the finishing +hand to “<i>The Conflagration</i>,” that, if he had embarked his hopes of +reaching posterity, in that heavy bottom, they must surely have foundered, +in the gulf of oblivion—and that, after all, he would be wafted down the +stream of time, to distant ages, astride, as it were, upon a feather—and +that what he could never have accomplished, by his grave discourses, and +elaborate, poetical labors, would be so certainly and signally achieved, +by the never-to-be-forgotten quips, and cranks, and bon mots, and puns, +and funny sayings, and comical doings of the reverend pastor of the Hollis +Street Church.</p> + +<p>The reader must not do so great injustice to Dr. Byles, as to suppose, +that he mingled together <i>sacra profanis</i>, or was in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> habit of +exhibiting, in the pulpit, that frolicsome vein, which was, in him, as +congenital, as is the tendency, in a fish, to swim in water.</p> + +<p>The sentiment of Horace applies not here—</p> + +<p class="poem">——————ridentem dicere verum<br /> +Quid vetat?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCIV" id="No_XCIV"></a>No. XCIV.</h2> + + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> plates, but the man must +have an extraordinary appetite, who could make a meal of it.</p> + +<p>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 <i>to +pay</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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. “<i>What is the matter?</i>” he exclaimed, raising his hand in +astonishment—“<i>Why so fast, brother Byles?</i>”—to which the Dr., without +slackening his speed, replied, over his shoulder—“<i>It is Fast day!</i>”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The distillery of Thomas Hill was at the corner of Essex and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> 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?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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>I never saw an ox +fatter in my life</i>.” 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.”</p> + +<p>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 <i>he had been +guarded—regarded—and disregarded</i>. He called his sentry his +<i>observ-a-tory</i>.</p> + +<p>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—“<i>You +see</i>,” said the Dr., “<i>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.</i>”</p> + +<p>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—“<i>You see I am in a brown study</i>.”</p> + +<p>His family, having gone to rest, were roused one night, by the reiterated +cry of <i>thieves!—thieves!</i> in the doctor’s loudest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> voice—the wife and +daughters sprang instantly from their beds, and rushed into the +room—there sat the Dr. alone, in his study chair—“<i>Where, father?</i>” +cried the astonished family—“<i>there!</i>” he exclaimed, pointing to the +candles.</p> + +<p>One bitter December night, he called his daughters from their bed, simply +to inquire if they lay warm.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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>I am delighted, gentlemen, to see you stirring in +this matter, at last</i>.”</p> + +<p>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—“<i>We have come, sir</i>,” said some one, “<i>to see a man +fly</i>.”—“<i>Poh, poh</i>,” replied the doctor, “<i>I have seen a horse-fly</i>.”</p> + +<p>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 <i>Billingsgate</i> 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.</p> + +<p>A poor fellow, in agony with the toothache, meeting the doctor, asked him +where he should go, to have it drawn. The doctor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> 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. “<i>This is a poor joke, for Dr. Byles</i>,” said the +gentleman; “<i>I am not a dentist, but a portrait painter—it will give you +little comfort, my friend, to have me draw your tooth</i>.” Dr. Byles had +sent the poor fellow to Copley.</p> + +<p>Upon the 19th of May, 1780, the memorable dark day, a lady wrote to the +doctor as follows—“<i>Dear doctor, how do you account for this darkness?</i>” +and received his immediate reply—“<i>Dear Madam, I am as much in the dark, +as you are</i>.” This, for sententious brevity, has never been surpassed, +unless by the correspondence, between the comedian, Sam Foote, and his +mother—“<i>Dear Sam, I’m in jail</i>”—“<i>Dear Mother, So am I.</i>”</p> + +<p>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—“<i>Go +and say to your mistress, Dr. Byles has put an end to himself</i>.” The girl +flew up stairs, and, with a face of horror, exclaimed, at the top of her +lungs—“<i>Dr. Byles has put an end to himself!</i>” 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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>grievances</i> should be <i>redressed</i>. One fine morning, when the multitude +had gathered on the Common, to see a regiment of red coats, paraded there, +who had recently arrived—“<i>Well</i>,” said the doctor, gazing at the +spectacle, “<i>I think we can no longer complain</i>, that our <i>grievances</i> are +not <i>red dressed</i>.” “<i>True,</i>” said one of the laughers, who were standing +near, “<i>but you have two ds, Dr. Byles</i>.” “<i>To be sure, sir, I have</i>,” the +doctor instantly replied, “I had them from <i>Aberdeen</i>, in 1765.”</p> + +<p>These pleasantries will, probably, survive “<span class="smcap">The Conflagration</span>.” 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.</p> + +<p>Had his talents and his influence been greater than they were, the +peculiarities, to which I have alluded, would have been a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCV" id="No_XCV"></a>No. XCV.</h2> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, <i>de vita et moribus +philosophorum</i>, 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 Prætor Lamia, +who revived, after being placed on the funeral pile. Another Prætor, +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.</p> + +<p>A perusal of the <i>Somnium Scipionis</i>, and of the accounts of Hildanus, +Camerarius, and Horstius—of Plato, in his Republic—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> of Valerius +Maximus, will satisfy the reader, that premature burials were, by no +means, uncommon, of old.</p> + +<p>The idea of reviving in one’s coffin—one of Fisk and Raymond’s “<i>Patent +Metallic Burial Cases, Air-Tight and Indestructible</i>”—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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, <i>when cold</i>, 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>In Lord Bacon’s <i>Historia Vitæ et Mortis</i>, 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCVI" id="No_XCVI"></a>No. XCVI.</h2> + + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>totem</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 “quæ Socrates supremo vitæ die de immortalitate animorum +disseruisset.” Such was the faith of Cicero—“Sic mihi persuasi, sic +sentio, quum tanta celeritas animorum sit, tanta memoria præteritorum, +futurorumque prudentia, tot artes, tantæ scientiæ, tot inventa, non posse +eam naturam, quæ res eas contineat, esse mortalem.” De Senec. 21.</p> + +<p>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 mœremus. +Et fortasse (si modo sapientium vera fama est, recipitque nos locus +aliquis) quem putamus perisse, præmissus 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 <i>forever</i>, has only gone <i>before</i>. 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> from the very contemplation of its own instinctive and +pervasive character.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Eatooa</i> bird. They say of the dead, that they are <i>harra po</i>, gone to the +night; and they believe, that the soul is instantly swallowed, by the +<i>Eatooa</i> 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 <i>Eatooa</i>, 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, <i>Matooara</i>. +The priest gave a funeral sermon—“<i>The trees yet live</i>,” said he, “<i>the +plants flourish, yet Matooara dies!</i>” It was a kind of expostulation with +<i>Eatooa</i>.</p> + +<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>exodus</i>, 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 <i>Tees</i>. They believe the soul walks +abroad, in dreams, under the charge of its <i>Tee</i>, or tutelary angel.</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> 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—</p> + +<p class="poem">————Plato, thou reasonest well.<br /> +Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,<br /> +This longing after immortality?<br /> +Or whence this secret dread and inward horror<br /> +Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul<br /> +Back on herself, and startles at destruction!<br /> +’Tis the divinity, that stirs within us;<br /> +’Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,<br /> +And intimates eternity to man.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCVII" id="No_XCVII"></a>No. XCVII.</h2> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Touchet</i>, 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> +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 +<i>novus homo</i>. Among the <i>fragmenta</i>, 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—<i>Ego meis majoribus virtute mea præluxi; ut, si prius +noti non fuerint, a me accipiant initium memoriæ suæ</i>—<i>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>. “I +am no herald,” said Sydney, “to inquire of men’s pedigrees: it sufficeth +for me if I know their virtues.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>one million of grand parents</i>, within the twentieth degree; and it is +calculated, in works on consanguinity, that, within the fifteenth degree, +every man has nearly <i>two hundred and seventy millions of kindred</i>. 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 <i>was +washed ashore</i>. 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> +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, <i>per capita</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 Æneas, not Æneas Silvius, who flourished in the early part of +the fifteenth century, and became Pope Pius II., but to Æneas, the King of +the Latins. This royal descent is not through the second marriage with +Lavinia; nor through the accidental relation, between Æneas and Dido—</p> + +<p class="poem">Speluncam Dido dux et Trojanus eandem<br /> +Deveniunt—————;</p> + +<p>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 Æneas and Creusa; and the grandson of +Anchises and Venus. Such a pedigree may satisfy a Welchman.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>gout</i>. 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—“<i>Couvrez vous, mon +cousin</i>:” to which he replies—“<i>Non pas, ma très sainte cousine, je scai +trop bien le respect que je vous dois</i>.” 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> +small trunk under his arm, on which is written—“<i>Papiers de la maison de +Levis</i>.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, <i>bona fide</i>, 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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>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 <span class="smcap">Smink</span>. 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.</p> + +<p>Ancestors are relics, and nothing else. Whenever the demand for ancestors +becomes brisk, and genealogy becomes a <i>profession</i>—it becomes a <i>craft</i>. +Laboureur, the historian, in his <i>Additions de Castelnau</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> 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.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCVIII" id="No_XCVIII"></a>No. XCVIII.</h2> + + +<p>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—“<i>My seven husbands are already dead, and why should I live?</i>” +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><i>Quadrigamus</i>, 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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> 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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Talk not of widows after this. Finding, even in those days of disorder, +that no divorce, <i>a vinculo</i>, 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 “<i>mute and spiritless +mate</i>” and of “<i>himself bound to an image of earth and phlegm</i>.”</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>Milton was ever Milton still—<i>nihil tetigit quod non ornavit</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>Selden, in his <i>Uxor Hebraica</i>, 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?</p> + +<p>The Landgrave of Hesse, the most warlike of the Protestant leaders, caused +a representation to be made to the theologians, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>res politica</i>, 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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> to perpetuate a system of +terrible hypocrisy. But let a sound discretion be exercised. I disapprove +altogether of conditional engagements, made <i>durante vita mariti</i>.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_XCIX" id="No_XCIX"></a>No. XCIX.</h2> + + +<p>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.—<i>Tempora mutantur</i>—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 <i>old</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Book</i>—and tradition tells us, that Jonny replied—“<i>Weel, +then, sing as mony as there be</i>.”</p> + +<p>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—“<i>as mony as there be</i>.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span>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 <i>strength</i>, to my weary +reader, might prove nothing better than <i>labor and sorrow</i>; +notwithstanding the occasional tokens of approbation, from some +exceedingly old-fashioned people, who were altogether behind the times.</p> + +<p>Having attained this <i>point d’appui</i>, 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—</p> + +<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 4em;">“——centum solatia curæ</span><br /> +Et rus, et comites, et via longa dabunt.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> 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.<a name='fna_1' id='fna_1' href='#f_1'><small>[1]</small></a></p> + +<p>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<a name='fna_2' id='fna_2' href='#f_2'><small>[2]</small></a> 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—“<i>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</i>.”</p> + +<p>There is something, in these drafts upon <i>posterity</i>, to be accepted and +paid, by the <i>present generation</i>, for the honor of the drawer, resembling +the conduct of a man, who encroaches on his principal, or who anticipates +his revenues.</p> + +<p>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—<i>in the recesses of a +Cheshire cheese</i>.</p> + +<p>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 <i>vis vivida vitæ</i>—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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span>happiness of his associates, +whom he should meet no more, on this side of the eternal world—those +<i>esto perpetuas</i> 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!</p> + +<p>As to my own comparatively humble relation to the public—<i>parvis +componere magna</i>—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—“<i>few die and none resign</i>;” 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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 14em;">“Vixi</span><br /> +Annos bis centum: nunc tertia vivitur ætas.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>enough</i>. I have a perfect respect for the old proverb, <i>de gustibus</i>, and +by no means anticipate the pleasure of pleasing every body—</p> + +<p class="poem">Men’ moveat cimex Pantilius? aut cruciet, quod<br /> +Vellicet absentem Demetrius? aut quod ineptus<br /> +Fannius Hermogenis lædat conviva Tigelli?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>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.</p> + +<p>There are mortals—offenders in some sort—whom it is difficult to please, +like the culprit who cried <i>higher</i> and <i>lower</i>, under the lash, till the +Irish drummer’s patience was perfectly exhausted, and he exclaimed—“<i>By +Jasus, there’s no plasing ye, strike where I will</i>.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_C" id="No_C"></a>No. C.</h2> + + +<p>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 <i>Vade Mecum</i>, for the patriot and the Christian—a +casket of imperishable jewels.</p> + +<p>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. “<i>Pity not me</i>,” cried the +high-spirited chevalier, “<i>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</i>.”</p> + +<p>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—<i>tete d’armee!</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span>We have the last words of consciousness, that were uttered, by the younger +Adams, when stricken by the hand of death in the capitol—<i>the last of +earth!</i> 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—“<i>it +is the glorious Fourth—God bless the day—God bless you all</i>.”</p> + +<p>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,—<span class="smcap">I am +prepared—I have endeavored to do my duty!</span> 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—<span class="smcap">Esto +perpetua!</span></p> + +<p class="poem">“And you brave Cobham, to the latest breath,<br /> +Shall feel your ruling passion, strong in death:<br /> +Such in those moments, as in all the past;<br /> +‘O save my country, Heaven!’ shall be your last.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span> response, as the voice of one man—has already answered +to that dying declaration—<span class="smcap">I am prepared</span>—<span class="smcap">I have endeavored to do my duty!</span> +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.</p> + +<p>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>I am +prepared</i>—<i>I have endeavored to do my duty</i>—<span class="smcap">and may my death cement that +Union, which I so cheerfully devoted my life to preserve</span>!</p> + +<p>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 <i>prepared, and who have endeavored to do +their duty</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>preëminently 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 <i>killed, +not by kindness, but by care</i>.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The crude, iron ore is quite as well adapted to the purposes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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, <span class="smcaplc">A GILDED CROWN OF THORNS</span>!</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CI" id="No_CI"></a>No. CI.</h2> + + +<p>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 +<i>omega</i> Ω. 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.</p> + +<p>The tombs of the rich, says M. Grosier, are shaped like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> <i>horse shoe</i>, +which, when well made, might pass for a very respectable Ω. +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mourning continues for three years, during which the aggrieved abstain +from flesh, wine, and all ordinary amusements.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I have repeatedly attended the morning levees of Miss <span class="smcap">Pwan Yekoo</span>, who was +exhibited with her serving-maid, <span class="smcap">Lum Akum</span>, Mr. <span class="smcap">Soo Chune</span>, the musical +professor, his son and daughter, <span class="smcap">Mun Chung</span> and <span class="smcap">Amoon</span>, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Aleet Mong</span>, +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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Yekoo</i> and Professor <i>Chune</i>. 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 +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span>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 +<i>Systema Naturæ</i> of Linnæus, a place among the varieties of the species, +distinguished by the name of <i>homines monstrosi</i>.”</p> + +<p>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 +“<i>golden lilies</i>,” for the production of which this little Chinese +spinster, Miss <i>Pwan Yeekoo</i> 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 <i>two inches and a half</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>os calcis</i> receives the whole weight of +the body.</p> + +<p>To sustain the statement, that Miss Yekoo is a “<i>Chinese lady</i>,” 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> 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.”</p> + +<p>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 ‘<i>si etroit qu’on ne peut comparer l’exactitude avec laquelle on +les gouverne</i>.’”</p> + +<p>A <i>practice</i>, 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 <i>custom</i>, 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.”</p> + +<p>M. De Pauw, in his Philosophical Dissertations, alludes to this practice, +in connection with that, formerly employed by the Egyptians, and which he +calls—“<i>the method of confining the women anciently, in Egypt, by +depriving them, in some measure, of the use of their feet</i>.”</p> + +<p>Plutarch, in his <i>Precepta Connub</i>, 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.”</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> of shoes for women, under the +pain of death, were not found, as it is, in the <i>Kitab-al-Machaid</i>, or +bible of the Druses.</p> + +<p>Upon my first visit to Pwan Yekoo and her <i>suite</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>aft</i>, 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 <i>a tergo</i>, of a rudder.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span>declare to be the seat of the understanding; and the chief God of +their idolatry is the Devil.”</p> + +<p>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 <i>dead</i>, but that he has <i>gone to his ancestors</i>. 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 +“<i>excessive talkativeness</i>.”</p> + +<p>I have been reared, in the faith, that the Chinese are not only a +<i>peculiar</i>, but an exceedingly <i>nasty</i> generation. According to Barrow, +and to Du Halde, in his <i>Hist. Gén. de la Chine</i>, 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 <i>Reise nach China</i>, +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.”</p> + +<p>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 <i>frowzy</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> 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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="No_CII" id="No_CII"></a>No. CII.</h2> + + +<p>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 <i>at home at last</i>—and yet, in the very midst of +life and joy, they are in death!</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p class="poem">——Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos.</p> + +<p>Few men, of our own country, have accomplished more, or acquired a more +honorable celebrity, at the early age of thirty-one.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The frequency of these occurrences revives, at the present moment, the +sentiment of Horace, delivered some eighteen centuries ago—</p> + +<p class="poem">Illi robur et æs triplex<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Circa pectus erat, qui fragilem truci</span><br /> +Commisit pelago ratem<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Primus.——————</span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> 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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Of old, in all the northern regions of Europe, and especially, along the +coasts of the Baltic Sea, a wreck was deemed “<i>a Providence</i>;” and laws +were in force, authorizing the inhabitants to fall on, and plunder at +discretion, or, in the language, then employed—“<i>in naufragorum miseria +et calamitate, tanquam vultures, ad prædam currere</i>.” 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 <i>en masse</i>, by +seizing his hat and crying aloud—“<i>a wreck!</i>” whereupon the good man is +reported, while putting up his notes, and opening the pulpit door, to have +exclaimed—“<i>Stay—stay, my Christian friends, let us all have a fair +start</i>.”</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>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, “<i>who shall wilfully obstruct the escape of any person, endeavoring +to save his or her life</i>,” &c.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 hyænas, 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 <i>moon-cursers</i>, +because they delight in that darkness, which is suited to their infernal +profession.</p> + +<p>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, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>eaten rather too heartily of nutmegs</i>.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CIII" id="No_CIII"></a>No. CIII.</h2> + + +<p>In the Transcript of August 14, I notice an editorial criticism, upon the +recent employment of the word <i>catafalque</i>. In primitive strictness, I +believe that criticism to be perfectly correct; and that, in its original +signification, <i>catafalque</i> cannot be understood to mean a <i>funeral car</i>.</p> + +<p>In the <i>grand Dictionaire</i>, by Fleming & Tibbins, <i>catafalque</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> is thus +defined—“<i>decoration funebre qu’on eleve au milieu d’une église pour y +placer le cercueil ou le representation d’un mort a qui l’on veut rendre +les plus grands honneurs</i>.”</p> + +<p>Herse is defined, by the same lexicographers, “<i>un cercueil, une biere, +voiture pour porter un mort au tombeau, un char funebre, corbillard, +pierre tumulaire provisoire</i>.”</p> + +<p>Thus, while <i>catafalque</i> 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—<i>herse</i>, 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.</p> + +<p><i>Herse</i>, 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 <i>catafalque</i>; of this, there cannot be the +slightest doubt. In this sense, herse was employed by Shakspeare, in his +Henry IV.:</p> + +<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 9em;">“To add to your laments</span><br /> +Wherewith you now bedew King Henry’s herse,” &c.</p> + +<p>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 <i>herse</i>, whether +justly styled <i>a monument</i>, or not, was <i>not</i> usually “<i>set over the +grave</i>,” but more frequently, like the <i>catafalque</i>, agreeably to the +definition given above—<i>au milieu d’une eglise</i>.</p> + +<p>No writer, probably, refers to the <i>herse</i>, so frequently, as old John +Strype, in his Memorials; and, in no instance, I believe, in the sense of +a <i>car</i> or <i>vehicle</i>, or as a structure, “<i>set over the grave</i>.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The church is the theatre of the Romish ecclesiastic. The service is an +attractive spectacle. If the world were struck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> 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—<i>au milieu d’une eglise</i>. 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—“<i>If we cannot catch them, in one way, we catch them in another</i>.”</p> + +<p>Nothing has ever been a more prolific source of capital to the Romish +church, in former ages, than funereal parade, <i>au milieu d’une eglise</i>. +Strype, with very few exceptions, speaks of the <i>herse</i> as a “<i>herse of +wax</i>.” 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 <i>herse</i>, and the wax chandler of those days was in great request, +and often rose to wealth and distinction.</p> + +<p>The reader will readily perceive, that the <i>herse</i>, of those early times, +was identical with the <i>catafalque</i>, 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 +<i>car</i>, but a temporary structure, <i>au milieu d’une eglise</i>—not “<i>set over +the grave</i>”—<i>the choir hung in black, &.</i></p> + +<p>To show how Strype distinguished between the <i>herse</i> and a <i>car</i> 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 <i>wagon</i> with four horses, all covered with black,” &c. This is our +modern <i>herse</i>, but was not so called by Strype.</p> + +<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> 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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>and so brought her into the hearse</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>Hence it is manifest, that the <i>herse</i>, in the time of Strype, was +identical with the <i>catafalque</i> of the present day. Nevertheless, <i>herse</i> +and <i>catafalque</i> are as clearly not convertible terms, since the latter +word can never be correctly applied to a funeral car.</p> + +<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> extremely interesting, and full of +curious detail. They also furnish additional evidence, that <i>the herse</i> +was then understood to mean all, that is now meant by <i>the catafalque</i>. +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:—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And the corps being thus ordained, the entrails and bowels were honorably +buried in the chappel,” &c. Mem., vol. 2, p. 289.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> &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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>It does not appear, that, in those days any <i>single</i> English word was +employed, to express the <i>vehicle</i>, which we call a <i>hearse</i>, at the +present day, unless the word <i>bier</i> may suffice: and this, like the Roman +<i>feretrum</i>, 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 <i>feretrum</i> was a thing, which might be taken up, and set down, +from the word <i>posito</i> in Ovid’s Fasti, iv., 851—</p> + +<p class="poem">Osculaque applicuit posito suprema feretro.</p> + +<p>The <i>feretrum</i> and the <i>capulus</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>The <i>funeral car</i> of Henry VIII. was a noble affair:—</p> + +<p>“There was ordained for the corps a sumptuous and valuable chariot of four +wheels, very long and large, with four pillars, overlaid with cloth of +gold at the four corners, bearing a pillow of rich cloth of gold and +tissue, fringed with a goodly deep fringe of blew silk and gold; and +underneath that, turned towards the chariot, was a marvellous excellent +cloth of majesty, having in it a doom artificially wrought, in fine gold +upon oyl: and at the nether part of the said Chariot was hanged with blew +velvet down to the ground, between the wheels, and at other parts of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> the +chariot, enclosed in like manner with blew velvet.” Ibid. 295.</p> + +<p>“The next day early, the 14 February, the chariot was brought to the court +hall door; and the corps with great reverence brought from the <i>herse</i> to +the same, by mitred prelats and others, temporal lords.” Ibid. 598.</p> + +<p>Then, over the area of thirteen remaining pages, the record contains the +minute particulars of the monarch’s obsequies, which, though full of +interest, are no farther to our present purpose.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CIV" id="No_CIV"></a>No. CIV.</h2> + + +<p>Bull—I speak not of Ole, but of John—Bull, when the teazle of opposition +has elevated the nap of his temper, is a pestilent fellow: whatever the +amount—and there is enough—of the milk of human kindness within him, +there is, then, but one way, known among men, of getting it out, and that +is, by giving Bull a bloody nose; whereupon he comes to his senses +directly, and to a just appreciation of himself and his neighbors. True +indeed it is, Bull is remarkably oblivious; and it sometimes becomes +necessary to give him another, which is invariably followed, by the same +happy result.</p> + +<p><i>Qui hæret in cortice</i> will never come at the milk of a cocoa nut. It is +necessary to strip off its rough coat, and punch sundry holes in its +<i>wooden walls</i>, and give it a regular cracking. It is precisely so with +Bull. When the fit is upon him, Bull is terrible. He is the very Bull of +Crete—the Bull of Claudian, in his rape of Proserpine—</p> + +<p class="poem">Dictæus quatiens mugitibus urbes<br /> +Taurus—————————<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bull is a prodigious fellow;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nations tremble at his bellow.</span></p> + +<p>There seems to have existed a strange, political hallucination, in regard +to Bull and Jonathan. We are clearly, all of us, of one and the same +family—a Bull-begotten people; and have a great deal of pleasure, in +believing, that old madam Bull was the mother of us all. A goodly number +of highly respectable Bulls came over the water, of old, and were well +contented with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> the green pastures of the New World. They differed, upon +some points, from the Bulls they had left behind. They did not believe, +that there was a power or right, to bellow louder than the rest, vested in +any particular Bull, which power came down from Bull to Bull, in unbroken +succession, from the Bull of Bashan. Such a belief, in their opinion, +would have been a terrible Bull. Well; all at once, the trans-atlantic +Bulls began to call the cis-atlantic Bulls—<i>Jonathans</i>. A very good name +it was—a great deal better than <i>Bulls</i>. There could be no objection to +the name, in the abstract.</p> + +<p>But, unfortunately, it was bestowed, as a diminutive, and in derision; and +the old Bulls, ere long, began to beat their flanks with their tails, and +paw up the earth, and look unutterable things, about Jonathan’s cowardice; +and they came over the water in droves, and began to roar awfully; and +tore up the earth, under our very noses: and, after doing all, in our +power to spare the world the miserable spectacle of a conflict, among +Bulls, that were brothers, of the whole blood, we went to work, <i>ex +necessitate</i>, with hoofs and horns; and tossed up such a terrible dust, at +Lexington, and Concord, and Bunker’s Hill, and Long Island, and White +Plains, and upon the Lakes, and at Sheensborough, and Albany, and +Brandywine, and Saratoga, and Bennington, and Germantown, and Rhode +Island, and Briar’s Creek, and Camden, and Broad River, and Guilford, and +Hobkirk’s Hill, and the Eutaw Springs, and York Town, and at fifty places +beside, that the old Bulls were perfectly astonished; and so very severely +gored withal, that their roaring sunk, at last, into something like +Snug’s, when he became fearful of frightening the ladies. The old +Bulls—those that survived—went <i>back again</i>, like Sawney, out of the +peach orchard; and the mammoth Bull, in London, publicly acknowledged, +that we were as independent a set of Bulls, as ever he saw, or heard of.</p> + +<p>No man, in his senses, marvels, that a contemptuous, and supercilious +sentiment, towards us, in our days of small things, should have been +indulged, by the vulgar and unphilosophical, among the English people. It +is matter for surprise, nevertheless, that so much ignorance of the +American character should have existed, in the higher ranks of British +society—such disparaging estimates of men and <i>materiel</i>, on this side +the water—such mistaken conceptions—such a general belief of almost +universal pusillanimity, among men, who were not a whit the less<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> +Englishmen, than their revilers; as though there were something, +particularly enervating, in breathing the bracing air of America, and +listening to the thorough bass of the wild waters, breaking on our +original walls of granite; and in struggling, with our horny hands, along +the precipices, for bread—such an awful miscalculation of probabilities, +as resulted at last, in the loss to King George of thirteen inestimable +jewels, of the fairest water.</p> + +<p>The impressions, entertained of the Americans, by the English people, or a +great majority of them, about that period, were truly amusing. It is +scarcely worth while to comment on the abuse of us, by the early +reviewers, and the taunting inquiry, long—long ago, what American had +ever produced an epic?—Unluckily, Joel did, at last.—This question, thus +early and impudently propounded, was quite as sensible, as it might be, to +ask men, who, by dint of industry and thrift, are just getting plain +shirts to their backs—who among them ever had lace ruffles? We have +improved since that time; and <i>halmost hevery man in the ole population +can hutter imself hin werry decent Henglish</i>.</p> + +<p>Josiah Quincy, <i>then</i> junior, father of the late President of Harvard +University, has noted some curious facts, in his journal, as reported by +Gordon, i. 438. In a conversation between him and Col. Barré, who, though +he opposed the Stamp Act, in 1765, supported the Boston Port Bill, in +1774. Col. Barré said to Mr. Quincy—“About fourteen or fifteen years ago, +I was through a considerable part of your country; for, in the expedition +against Canada, my business caused me to pass by land, through +Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, and Albany; and, when I returned again +to this country, I was often speaking of America, and could not help +speaking well of its climate, soil, and inhabitants; for you must know, +sir, America was always a favorite with me. But, will you believe it, sir, +yet I assure you it is true, more than two thirds of this island, at this +time, thought the Americans were all negroes.” Mr. Quincy replied that he +did not in the least doubt it, for, if he was to judge by the late acts of +Parliament, he should suppose, that a great majority of the people of +Great Britain still thought so, for he found that their representatives +still treated them as such.</p> + +<p>The ministry had decided, that “<i>the punishment of a few of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> the worst +sort of traitors, such as Hancock and his crew, might be sufficient to +teach the rest their duty, in future</i>.”—“Some men of rank in the army,” +says Gordon, i. 457, “treated all idea of resistance, by the Americans, +with the utmost contempt. They are neither soldiers, nor ever can be made +so, being naturally of a pusillanimous disposition, and utterly incapable +of any sort of order or discipline; and by their laziness, uncleanliness, +and radical defect of constitution, they are disabled from going through +the service of a campaign. Many ludicrous stories, to that purport, were +told, greatly to the entertainment of the house.”</p> + +<p>Jonathan turned out, at the end of the Bull baiting, to have been neither +a fool nor a coward: and the American Congress received a memorable +compliment from Lord Chatham—“<i>For genuine sagacity, for singular +moderation, for manly spirit, for sublime sentiments, and simplicity of +language, for everything respectable and honorable, the Congress of +Philadelphia shines unrivalled</i>.”</p> + +<p>In the war of 1812, Bull was the very identical Bull, that he had been +before: Frenchmen were frogs; Yankees were cowards—there was nobody that +could fight, on the land or the sea, but Bull.</p> + +<p>“It has always,” says that wittiest, and, I fear, wickedest of wags, +William Cobbett, while addressing Lord Liverpool, “been the misfortune of +England, that her rulers and her people have spoken and have thought +contemptuously of the Americans. Was there a man in the country, who did +not despise the American navy? Was there a public writer beside myself, +who did not doom that navy to destruction in a month? Did not all parties +exceedingly relish the description given, in a very august assembly, of +‘<i>half a dozen of fir frigates, with bits of striped bunting tied to their +mast heads</i>’! Did not the Guerriere sail up and down the American coast, +with her name, written on her flag, challenging those fir frigates? Did +not the whole nation, with one voice exclaim at the affair of the <i>Little +Belt</i>—‘Only let Rogers come <i>within reach</i> of one of our <i>frigates</i>!’ If +such was the opinion of the whole nation, with what justice is the Board +of Admiralty blamed, for not sending out the means of combatting this +extraordinary sort of foe? and for issuing a privilege to our frigates to +run away from one of those <i>fir things with a bit of striped bunting at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> +its mast head</i>? The result of the former war, while it enlightened nobody, +added to the vindictiveness of hundreds of thousands; so that we have +entered into this war with all our old stock of contempt, and a vastly +increased stock of rancor. To think that the American republic is to be a +great power is unsupportable. Of the effect of this contempt I know +nobody, who has so much reason to repent, as the officers of his Majesty’s +navy. If they had triumphed, it would only have been over half a dozen +<i>fir things, with bits of bunting at their mast heads</i>. They were sure to +gain no reputation in the contest; and, if they failed, what was their +lot? The worst of it is, they themselves did, in some measure, contribute +to their own ill fate: for, of all men living, none spoke of poor Jonathan +with so much contempt. There are some people, who are for taking the +American commodores at their word, and ascribing their victories to the +immediate intervention of Providence. Both Perry and McDonough begin their +despatches by saying—“<i>Almighty God has given us a victory</i>.”</p> + +<p>This is keen political satire; and it is well, that it should come to +neighbor Bull’s ears, from the mouth of an Englishman. It is more +gracefully administered thus. That it was entirely deserved, no one will +doubt, who has any recollection of Bull’s unmeasured and unmitigated +impudence, during the war of 1812, in its earlier stages. May God of his +infinite mercy grant, that Peace Societies may have these matters, +hereafter, very much their own way; though I have a little misgiving, I +confess, as to the expediency of any sudden, or very general conversion of +swords into ploughshares, or spears into pruning hooks.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CV" id="No_CV"></a>No. CV.</h2> + + +<p><i>Modus in rebus</i>—an admirable proverb, upon all common occasions—is +inapplicable, of course, to musical matters. No doubt of it. The luxury of +sweet sounds cannot be too dearly bought; and, for its procurement, +mankind may go stark mad, without any diminution of their respectability.</p> + +<p>Such I infer to be the popular philosophy of today—<i>while it is called +today</i>. The moderns have been greatly perplexed, by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> the legends, which +have come down to us, respecting the melody of swans. The <i>carmina +cycnorum</i> of Ovid, and the <i>Cantantes sublime ferent ad sidera cycni</i>, of +Virgil, are perfectly incomprehensible by us. Cicero also, in his Tusculan +Questions, i. 74, says, they die, <i>cum cantu et voluptate</i>. Martial, xiii. +77, asserts the matter, very positively—</p> + +<p class="poem"><i>Dulcia defecta modulatur carmina lingua<br /> +Cantator cycnus funeris ipse sui.</i></p> + +<p>I no more believe in the power of a living or a dying swan to make melody +of any kind, than I believe in the antiquated hum-bug of immediate +emancipation. Pliny had no confidence in the story, and expresses himself +to that effect, x. 23, <i>Olorum morte narratur flebilis cantus (falso, ut +arbitror) aliquot experimentis</i>.</p> + +<p>No mortal has done more than Shakspeare, among the moderns, to perpetuate +this pleasant fancy—no bard, when weary of Pegasus, and preferring a +drive to a ride, has harnessed his cygnets more frequently—or compelled +them to sing more sweetly, in a dying hour. A single example may suffice. +When prince Henry is told, that his father, King John, sang, during his +dying frenzy, he says—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Tis strange, that death should sing—<br /> +I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,<br /> +Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death:<br /> +And, from the organ pipe of frailty, sings<br /> +His soul and body to their lasting rest.”</p> + +<p>One brief example more—Emilia, after the murder of her mistress—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Hark! canst thou hear me? I will play the swan;<br /> +And die in music.”</p> + +<p>In all this there lurks not one particle of sober prose—one syllable of +truth. The most learned refutation of it may be found, in the Pseudodoxia +of Sir Thomas Browne, ii. 517, Lond. 1835.</p> + +<p>In the “<i>Memoires de l’Académie des Inscriptions</i>,” M. Morin discusses the +question very agreeably, why swans, that sang so delightfully, of old, +sing so miserably, at the present day. Tame swans, he observes, are mutes: +but the wild swan exerts its vocal powers, after a fashion of its own. He +introduces the observations of the Abbé Arnaud, upon the performances of a +couple of wild swans, which had located, upon the lagoons of Chantilly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> +“One can hardly say,” says the Abbé, “that the swans of Chantilly +sing—they cry; but their cries are truly and constantly modulated. Their +voice is not sweet; on the contrary, it is shrill, piercing, and rather +disagreeable; I could compare it to nothing better than the sound of a +clarionet, winded by a person unacquainted with the instrument.” Nothing +surely savors less of melody than this. So thought Buffon—“<i>Des sons +bruyans de clarion, mais dont les tons aigus et peu diversifiés sont +néanmoins tres—éloignés de la tendre mélodie et de la variété douce et +brilliante du ramage de nos oiseaux chanteurs</i>.” Nat. Hist. des Oisaux, +ix. 25.</p> + +<p>In his exposition of this error, imposed upon mankind, by the poets, +Buffon expresses himself with singular beauty, in the concluding +paragraph—“Nulle fiction en Histoire Naturelle, nulle fable chez les +Anciens n’a ete plus célébrée, plus répétée, plus accréditee; elle s’étoit +emparée de l’imagination vive et sensible des Grecs; poëtes, orateurs, +philosophes méme l’ont adoptée, comme une verité trop agreable pour +vouloir en douter. Il faut bien leur pardonner leurs fables; elles étoient +aimables et touchantes; elles valoient bien de tristes, d’arides verités +c’etoient de doux emblémes pour les ames sensibles. Les cygnes, sans +doute, ne chantent point leur mort; mais toujours, en parlant du dernier +essor et de derniers élans d’un beau génie pret á s’éteindre, on +rappellera avec sentiment cette expression touchante—<i>c’est le chant du +cygne!</i>” Ibid. 28.</p> + +<p>It is not surprising, that these celebrated naturalists, Buffon and Morin, +who discourse, so eloquently, of Grecian and Roman swans, should say +nothing of Swedish nightingales, for, between their time and the present, +numerous additions have been made to the catalogue of songsters.</p> + +<p>The very thing, which the barber, Arkwright did, for all the spinning +Jennies, in Lancashire, some seventy years ago, has been done by Jenny +Lind, for all the singing Jennies upon earth, beside herself—they are +cast into the shade.</p> + +<p>She came here with an irresistible prestige. A singing woman has been a +proverb, since the world began; and, of course, long before Ulysses +dropped in, upon the island of Ogygia, and listened to Calypso; or fell +into serious difficulty, among the Sirens. A singing woman, a Siren, has +been frequently accounted, and with great propriety, a singing bird of +evil omen. How grateful then must it be, to know, that, while lending +their ears and their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> eyes to this incomparable songstress, our wives, our +daughters, and our sisters have before them a pure, and virtuous, and +gentle, and generous creature, as free, as poor, human nature can well be +free, from life’s alloy, and very much as she was, when created—<i>a little +lower than the angels</i>.</p> + +<p>Among other mythological matters, Pausanias relates, that the three +Sirens, instigated by Juno, challenged the Muses to a trial of skill in +singing. They were beaten, of course, for the Muses, being nine in number, +there were three upon one. The victors, as the story goes, proceeded very +deliberately, to pluck the golden feathers, from the wings of the +vanquished, and converted them into crowns, for their own brows.</p> + +<p>Now, it cannot be denied, that Jenny has vanquished us all, and made the +golden feathers fly abundantly. But this is not Jenny’s fault; for, +whatever the wisdom or the folly, the affair was our own entirely. If, for +the sake of distinction, any one has seen fit to pluck every golden +feather from his back, and appear, like the featherless biped of Diogenes, +and give the golden feathers to Jenny, to make her a crown; we have +substantial facts, upon which to predict, that Jenny will make a better +use of those golden feathers, than to fool them away, for a song. If Jenny +plucks golden feathers, from the backs of the rich, she finds bare spots +enough, for a large part of them all, upon the backs of the poor: and, as +for the crown, for Jenny’s brows, if she goes onward, as she has begun, +investing her treasure <i>in Heaven</i>, and selecting the Lord for her +paymaster, <i>there</i> will be her coronation; and her crown a crown of Glory. +And, when she comes to lie down and die, let the two last lines of +Johnson’s imperishable epitaph, on Philips, be inscribed upon her tomb—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Rest undisturb’d, beneath this marble shrine,<br /> +Till angels wake thee, with a note like thine.”</p> + +<p>Orpheus was changed into a swan; Philomela into a nightingale; and Jenny, +in due time, will be changed into an angel. Indeed, it is the opinion of +some competent judges, that the metamorphosis has already commenced.</p> + +<p>Music is such a delightful, soothing thing, that one grieves, to think its +professors and amateurs are frequently so excessively irritable.</p> + +<p>The disputes, between Handel and Senesino, and their respective partisans, +disturbed all London, and finally broke up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> Academy of Music, after it +had been established, for nine years. The quarrels of Handel and +Buononcini are said to have occasioned duels, among the amateurs; and the +nation was filled, by these musical geniuses, with discord and uproar. +Good humor was, in some degree, restored, by the following epigram, so +often ascribed to Swift, the two last lines of which, however, are alone +to be found in the editions of his works, by Nicholls, and Scott:</p> + +<p class="poem">“Some say, that signor Buononcini,<br /> +Compar’d with Handel, is a ninny;<br /> +Others aver to him, that Handel<br /> +Does not deserve to hold a candle;<br /> +Strange, all this difference should be,<br /> +’Twixt tweedle dum and tweedle dee.”</p> + +<p>This epigram cannot be attributed to that contempt for music, which is +sometimes occasioned, by a constitutional inability to appreciate its +effect, upon the great mass of mankind. It undoubtedly sprang from a +desire to put an end, by the power of ridicule, to these unmusical +disturbances of the public peace.</p> + +<p>Swift’s musical pun, upon the accidental destruction of a fine Cremona +fiddle, which was thrown down by a lady’s mantua, has always been highly +and deservedly commended; and recently, upon the very best authority, +pronounced the finest specimen extant of this species of wit—“Perhaps,” +says Sir Walter Scott, in his life of Swift, speaking of his puns, i. 467, +“the application of the line of Virgil to the lady, who threw down with +her mantua a Cremona fiddle, is the best ever made—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Mantua væ miseræ nimium vicina Cremonæ!”</p> + +<p>In every nation, and in every age, the power of music has been +acknowledged by mankind. Now and then, the negative idiosyncracies of +certain persons place this particular department of pleasure, beyond the +sphere of their comprehension, as effectually as utter blindness denies +the power of enjoying the finest specimens of the painter’s art. +Occasionally, some pious divine, absolutely drunk with over-potent +draughts of orthodoxy, like the friar, before Boccaccio, shakes his holy +finger at this wicked world, and warns them to beware of the singing +woman!</p> + +<p>The vocal power of music is ascribed to the angels in Heaven; and my own +personal knowledge has assured me, that it affords a melancholy solace, to +the slave in bonds.</p> + +<p>I passed the winter of 1840-41 with an invalid daughter, in the island of +St. Croix. With a party of some six or eight, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> devoted one delightful, +moonlight evening, to a ride, on horseback, among the sugar-loaf summits +of that beautiful speck amid the main. We were ascending the hills, in the +neighborhood of the Annelly plantation—the moon was at full, that night; +and the Caribbean Sea, far and wide, shone like a boundless prairie of +burnished silver. As we were slowly winding our way, to the summit, one of +our party called the attention of the rest to the sounds of music, coming +from the slave cabins, at a distance. As we advanced, slowly and silently, +towards the spot, the male and female voices were readily distinguished.</p> + +<p>We drew near, unperceived, and, checking our horses, listened, for several +minutes, to the wild, simple notes of these children of bondage. “There is +melody in this”—said one of our party aloud, and all was hushed, in an +instant. We rode down to the cabins, and begged them to continue their +song—but our solicitations were in vain—even the offer of sundry five +stiver pieces, which operate, like a charm, upon many occasions, with the +<i>uncles</i> and the <i>aunties</i>, was ineffectual then. “<i>No massa—b’lieve no +sing any more</i>”—were the only replies, and we went upon our way.</p> + +<p>As we descended the Annelly hills, on the opposite side, after leaving the +negroes and their cabins, at some distance, we halted and listened—they +had recommenced—the same wild music was floating upon the breeze.</p> + +<p>As we rode slowly along, my daughter asked me, if I could account for +their reluctance to comply with our request. I told her, I could not. +“Perhaps,” said she, “they have a reason, somewhat like the reason of +those, who sat down, by the waters of Babylon, and wept, and who could not +sing one of the songs of Zion, in a strange land.”</p> + +<p>It might have been thus. “<i>They that carried us away captive, required of +us a song! They, that wasted us, required of us mirth!</i>”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CVI" id="No_CVI"></a>No. CVI.</h2> + + +<p>While pursuing his free inquiry into the origin of evil, I doubt, if Soame +Jenyns had as much pleasure, as Sir Joseph<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> Banks enjoyed, in his famous +investigation, if fleas were the prototypes of lobsters.</p> + +<p>These inquiries are immeasurably pleasant. When a boy, I well remember my +cogitations, what became of the old moons; and how joyously I accepted the +solution of my nurse, who had quite a turn for judicial astrology, that +they were unquestionably cut up, for stars.</p> + +<p>It is truly delightful to look into these occult matters—<i>rerum +cognoscere causas</i>. There are subjects of deep interest, which lie +somewhat nearer the surface of the earth—the origin of certain usages and +undertakings, and the authorship of certain long-lived works, which appear +to be made of a species of literary everlasting, but whose original +proprietors have never been discovered. I have great respect, for those +antiquarians, whose researches have unlocked so many of these long hidden +mysteries; and, however bare-headed I may be, when the venerated names of +Speed, or Strype, or Stow, or Rushworth, or Wood, or Holinshed occurs to +my memory, I have an involuntary tendency to take off my hat.</p> + +<p>It was, doubtless, in allusion to their grotesque and uncouth +versification, that the Earl of Rochester prepared his well-known +epigram—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Sternhold and Hopkins had great qualms,<br /> +When they translated David’s Psalms.”</p> + +<p>This version, which held its ground, for a century and a half, and, as +Chalmers says, slowly gave place to the translation, by Tate and Brady, +had an origin, of which, I presume, few individuals are apprized.</p> + +<p>Thomas Sternhold lived to translate fifty-one only of the Psalms; and the +first edition was published in 1549, with this title—“<i>All such Psalms of +David as Thomas Sterneholde, late groome of the king’s majestye’s robes +did in his lyfetime drawe into Englyshe metre</i>.”</p> + +<p>About this period, the larger cities of the kingdom had become inundated +with obscene and blasphemous songs, to such a degree, that some powerful +expedient seemed to be required, for the removal of this insufferable +grievance. Accordingly, the felicitous idea occurred to Mr. Thomas +Sternhold, of substituting the Psalms of David, as versified by himself, +for the bacchanalian songs, then in use, throughout the realm. He +anticipated a practical illustration of the command of St. James—“<i>Is any +merry let him sing Psalms</i>.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span>Ostensibly prepared for the use of the churches, the moving consideration, +for this version, with Mr. Sternhold, was such as I have shown it to be. +The motive is plainly stated, in the title-page—“<i>Set forth and allowed +to be sung in churches of the people together, before and after evening +prayer, as also before and after sermon; and moreover, in private houses, +for their godly solace and comfort, laying apart all ungodly songs and +ballads, which tend only to the nourishment of vice and the corrupting of +youth</i>.”</p> + +<p>Wood, in his Athenæ Oxonienses, i. 183, Lond: 1813, says of +Sternhold—“Being a most zealous reformer and a very strict liver, he +became so scandalized, at the amorous and obscene songs used in the court, +that he, forsooth turned into English metre fifty-one of David’s Psalms, +and caused musical notes to be set to them, thinking thereby, that the +courtiers would sing them, instead of their sonnets, but did not, only +some few excepted.”</p> + +<p>How cheerfully would I go, undieted, for a long summer’s day, to know who +was the author of “Jonny Armstrong’s Last Good Night;” and for a much +longer term, to ascertain the writer of Chevy Chase, of which Ben Jonson +used to say, he had rather have been the author of it, than of all his +works. The words of Sir Philip Sidney, in his Discourse on Poetry, are +quoted, by Addison, in No. 70 of the Spectator—“<i>I never heard the old +song of Percy and Douglas, that I found not my heart more moved than with +a trumpet</i>.” The ballad of Chevy Chase was founded upon the battle of +Otterburn, which was fought in 1388, and of which a brief account will be +found in the fourteenth chapter of Sir Walter’s first series of the +Grandfathers Tales.</p> + +<p>The author of those songs for children, which have been lisped, by the +tongues of millions, shall never be forgotten, while dogs delight to bark +and bite—but who was the author of Hush-a-bye baby—Now we go up, up, +up—Cock Robin—or Dickory Dock, no human tongue can tell!</p> + +<p>Poor André, we know, was the author of the Cow Chace; but the composer of +our national air is utterly unknown. Who would not give more of the +<i>siller</i>, to know to whose immortal mind we are indebted for Yankee +Doodle, than to ascertain the authorship of the Letters of Junius?</p> + +<p>Both France and England have been more fortunate, in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span>respect to the +origin and authorship of their most popular, national songs. Speaking of +Barbaroux and the Marseillois, Sir Walter Scott, in his Life of Napoleon, +observes—“Besides the advantage of this enthusiastic leader, the +Marseillois marched to the air of the finest hymn, to which Liberty or the +Revolution had yet given birth.”</p> + +<p>I am aware that something like doubt or obscurity hangs over the reputed +authorship of the Hymn of the Marseillais. But in respect to the national +air of Great Britain—<i>God save the King</i>—the authorship appears to be +more satisfactorily, if not perfectly, indicated.</p> + +<p>It is certainly worthy of note, that this celebrated air, in which <i>John +Bull</i> has taken so much delight, ever since it came into existence, is by +some persons supposed to have been the production of <span class="smcap">John Bull</span> himself, a +celebrated composer of his day. An engraving of him may be found, in the +History of Music, by Hawkins. There is an original painting of him, by J. +W. Childe, in the Music School, at Oxford, which was engraved by Illman, +with the words below—“John Bull, Mus. Doct. Cantab. Instaur. Oxon. +MDXCII.” A portrait of Dr. Bull will also be found, in Richard Clarke’s +<i>Account of the National Anthem, God save the King</i>, 8vo. Lond. 1822.</p> + +<p>The account of Bull, by Wood, in his Fasti, i. 235, Lond. 1815, is +somewhat amusing—“1586, July 9.—John Bull, who had practised the fac. of +music for 14 years, was then admitted batch, of music. This person, who +had a most prodigious hand on the organ, and was famous, throughout the +religious world, for his church music, had been trained up under an +excellent master, named Blitheman, organist of Qu. Elizabeth’s chappel, +who died much lamented, in 1591. This Blitheman perceiving that he had a +natural geny to the faculty, spared neither time nor labor to advance it +to the utmost. So that in short time, he being more than master of it, +which he showed by his most admirable compositions, played and sung in +many churches beyond the seas, as well as at home, he took occasion to go +incognito, into France and Germany. At length, hearing of a famous +musician, belonging to a certain cathedral, (at St. Omers, as I have +heard,) he applied himself, as a novice, to learn something of his +faculty, and to see and admire his works. This musician, after some +discourse had passed between them, conducted Bull to a vestry, or music +school, joyning to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> cathedral, and shew’d him a lesson, or song of +forty parts, and then made a vaunting challenge to any person in the world +to add one more part to them, supposing it to be so compleat and full, +that it was impossible for any mortal man to correct or add to it. Bull +thereupon desiring the use of ink and rul’d paper (such as we call musical +paper) prayed the musician to lock him up in the said school for 2 or 3 +hours; which being done, not without great disdain by the musician, Bull, +in that time or less, added forty more parts to the said lesson or song. +The musician thereupon being called in, he viewed it, try’d it and retry’d +it. At length he burst out into great ecstacy, and swore by the great God, +that he that added those 40 parts must either be the Devil or Dr. Bull, +&c. Whereupon Bull making himself known, the musician fell down and adored +him.”</p> + +<p>Of music it may be said, as of most other matters—<i>the fashion of these +things passeth away</i>. So great was the fame of Bull in his day, and such +tempting offers of preferment were made him, by the Emperor, and by the +Kings of France and Spain, that Queen Elizabeth commanded him home. It is +stated, in the Biographical History of England, ii. 167, that the famous +Dr. Pepusch preferred some of the lessons in Bull’s Partheniæ, to the +productions of most of the composers of that time. Yet Dr. Burney says of +these lessons—“<i>They may be heard, by a lover of music, with as little +emotion as the clapper of a sawmill, or the rumbling of a post-chaise</i>.”</p> + +<p>Musicians are a sensitive and jealous generation. “Handel,” says Chalmers, +“despised the pedantry of Pepusch; and Pepusch, in return, refused to +join, in the general chorus of Handel’s praise.”</p> + +<p>Handel, when a stripling at Hamburgh, laid claim to the first harpsichord, +against a master, greatly his superior, in point of years, and the matter, +upon trial, was decided in Handel’s favor, which so incensed the other, +that he drew, and made a thrust, at his young rival, whose life, according +to Dr. Burney’s version, was saved, by a fortunate contact, between the +point of the rapier and a metal button.</p> + +<p>The principles, which govern, in all mutual admiration societies, are +deeply laid in the nature of man. If Handel had borne the pedantry of Dr. +Pepusch, with forbearance, or common civility, the Doctor would have, +doubtless, afforded Handel the advantage of his highest commendation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span>The managers of musical matters act wisely, in tendering, to every +conductor of a public journal, the</p> + +<p class="poem">Melle soporatam et medicatis frugibus offam—</p> + +<p>But I fear they are not always as cautious and discriminating, as the +occasion appears to demand. How very different would have been the fate of +the poor strolling player, whom Goldsmith so pleasantly describes, had he +taken a little more pains—only a little—to propitiate “<i>the lady, who +had been nine months in London</i>!”</p> + +<p>The managers, upon such occasions, should never omit the most careful +espionage, into the musical pretensions of every member of the press—I +speak of their pretensions, and not of their actual knowledge—that, in +the present connection, is of little importance: and, when they discover +one of this powerful brotherhood, who, in musical matters, would be +thought to know more than his neighbors, however mistaken he may be—let +them pay him particular attention—let them procure him an excellent +seat—once—twice perhaps—express a hope, that he is well +accommodated—and occasionally, during the performance, be sure to catch +his eye, as if with a “fearful longing after immortality,” such as +tomorrow’s leader may possibly confer on the candidate for fame. How often +the omission to observe these simple rules has been followed, by faint +praise, and invidious discriminations!</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CVII" id="No_CVII"></a>No. CVII.</h2> + + +<p>My great grandmother used to say, that she never desired to be told, that +anything was broken, in her household; for, though she had been a +housekeeper, for fifty years, nothing was ever broken, in her family, that +had not been cracked before. I have the very same feeling in regard to the +majority of all inventions and discoveries; for some ingenious fellow +invariably presents himself, who, as it turns out, had verified the +suggestion already.</p> + +<p>I never found my mind in a very feverish condition, while pursuing the +inquiry, whether the art of medicine was first invented, by Hermes, Isis, +or Osiris; nor while examining the arguments,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> ingenious though they are, +of Clemens Alexandrinus, to prove, that Moses was a very respectable +apothecary.</p> + +<p>I have ever supposed, that Necessity, the mother of invention, was the +inventress of the blessed art; and that the origin was somewhat on this +wise:—before the transgression, all went on well—there were neither +aches nor ails—the apple certainly disagreed with Adam—he sought relief, +by hunting for an antidote; and finding great comfort, in chewing such +carminative herbs, as catmint and pennyroyal, he prescribed them to the +sharer of his joys and sorrows. It is quite likely, that, with no family, +and a great deal of time upon her hands, while walking in her garden, as +poppies were not forbidden, Eve, to satisfy her curiosity, might have +sucked their narcotic juice; and thus acquired a knowledge of opiates, so +useful, ever since the fall.</p> + +<p>Physicking was, at first, a very general affair. Whether benevolence, or +the desire of a little reputation lies at the bottom, there has ever +existed, among mankind, a pungent, irresistible desire to physick one + +another. It is to be regretted, that Irenæus, who was just the man for it, +had not given a few years of his life to ascertain, if Eve, during the +parturition of Cain, or Abel, received any alleviation, from slippery elm. +Plato, Theoctet. p. 149, says, the midwives of Athens did great, good +service, on these occasions, with certain drugs and charms.</p> + +<p>In the beginning, so little was to be known, upon this subject, it is not +wonderful, that almost every man should have known that little. Thus, +according to Homer, Od. iv., 320, every Egyptian was a doctor:—</p> + +<p class="poem">“From Pæon sprung, their patron god imparts<br /> +To all the Pharian race his healing arts.”</p> + +<p>Herodotus, who was born, about 484, B. C., in Book II. of his history, +sec. 84, speaks distinctly of the fact, that the Egyptian <i>doctors</i> were +not physicians, in the general sense, but confined their practice, +respectively, to particular diseases. The passage may be thus +translated—<i>Now, in truth, the art of medicine with them was so +distributed, that their physicians managed particular disorders, and not +diseases generally; thus, though all were referred to the physicians, some +were doctors for the eyes, some for the head, some for the teeth, some for +the belly, and some for the occult diseases</i>.</p> + +<p>The first mention of physicians, in Holy Writ, is in Genesis, 50, 2—“<i>And +Joseph commanded his servants, the physicians,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> to embalm his father: and +the physicians embalmed Israel</i>.” <i>Physicians</i>, to this extent, were +mechanical operators; and the celebrated physicians of Greece, Chiron, +Machaon, Podalirius, Pœon, and even Æsculapius, were <i>surgeons</i>. Their +art, as Pliny says, did not go beyond curing a green wound. The cure of +internal, or complicated, disorders was beyond their province. Celsus +says, that Podalirius and Machaon, the physicians, who went with +Agamemnon, to the wars of Troy, were never employed, to cure the plague, +or internal maladies, nor anything but external injuries.</p> + +<p>No physician was required to manage external applications, in certain +cases of common occurrence. In Kings II. xx. 7, Hezekiah appears to have +thought himself extremely sick; when Isaiah applied a poultice of figs to +his boil, and he soon was upon his legs again. This seems to have been +accounted a remarkable cure, in those days, for Isaiah thought it worth +repeating, xxxviii. 21. Job does not appear to have resorted to fig +poultices, nor to any remedies, whatever: and, while Hezekiah behaved like +a great baby, and wept bitterly, Job toughed it out, like a man; and, +instead of mourning and murmuring, under the torment, not of one, but of +countless boils, he poured forth torrents of incomparable eloquence, all +the while, on various topics.</p> + +<p>Job’s affliction, being viewed in the light of a direct judgment, it was +deemed quite outrageous, by many, to stave off the wrath of Heaven, by +interposing fig poultices, or remedies of any kind. Thus it appears, that +Asa suffered severely with the gout; and there is a sharp fling against +him, Chron. II. xvi. 12, on account of his want of faith—“<i>Yet in his +disease he sought not to the Lord, but to the physicians</i>.”</p> + +<p>This seems to be in accordance, with the opinion of those modern Fathers, +who consider the use of ether or chloroform, in obstetric cases, a point +blank insult to the majesty of Heaven, because of the primeval fiat—<i>in +sorrow shalt thou bring forth children</i>.</p> + +<p>The race of Cyclops entertained a similar sentiment of submission, in +sickness, according to Homer, Od. IX. 485. When <i>Oudeis</i> (<i>Anglice Noman</i>) +which always seemed to me an undignified pun, for an Epic, had put out the +eye of Polyphemus, his roaring collected the neighboring giants. They +inquired, outside the portal, what was the matter; and he replied, that +<i>Oudeis</i>—<i>Noman</i>—was killing him; upon which they reply—</p> + +<p class="poem"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> +“If <i>Noman</i> hurts thee, but the power divine<br /> +Inflict disease, it fits thee to resign.<br /> +To Jove or to thy father Neptune pray,<br /> +The Cyclops cried, and instant strode away.”</p> + +<p>The theory was, that God worked upon mortals, by the agency of a great +number and variety of evil spirits, or devils; and that the employment of +remedial means was therefore neither more nor less, than withstanding the +Almighty. Hence arose the custom, being supposed less offensive, in the +sight of Heaven, of resorting to charms and incantations; and of employing +diviners and magicians; and, as old Sir Robert Walpole is reported to have +said, that every man has his price; so it was supposed to be the case, +with those devils, who were engaged, in the system of tormenting mankind. +Instead therefore of turning directly to the Lord, the sufferers were much +in the habit of making their propitiatory suit, directly, to some false +god, or influential demon. Of this we have an example, in Kings II. i. 2, +et seq. Ahaziah, King of Israel, went up into his garret, probably, in the +dark, and fell through the scuttle. He was severely bruised, and sent a +messenger, post haste, to Ekron, to consult the false god, Baalzebub. +Elisha, who, though a prophet, had no reputation, as a physician, was +consulted by Hazael and by Naaman, about their distempers.</p> + +<p>Enchantments, talismans, music, phylacteries were in use, among the +Hebrews, and formed no small part of their <i>materia medica</i>. Charms were +used, as preventives against the bites of serpents. “Who,” says +Ecclesiasticus xii. 13, “<i>will pity a charmer, that is bitten with a +serpent</i>?” This seems not to have availed, against the deaf adder, +“which,” Psalm lviii. 5, “<i>will not hearken to the voice of charmers, +charming never so wisely</i>.” And Jeremiah, viii. 17, declares, that the +Lord will send cockatrices and serpents, that will not be charmed, upon +any terms whatever.</p> + +<p>Some verses are preserved, by Cato, De Re Rustica, art. 160, which were +used, in reducing a dislocated member. Dr. Johnson has informed us, though +without naming his authority, that <span class="smcaplc">ABRACADABRA</span> was a superstitious charm, +against agues.</p> + +<p>It is quite amusing, while reading Sir Thomas Browne’s remarks on +quackery, in his Pseudodoxia, ch. xi. to see how readily he admits satanic +agency, himself. Take the following passage—“When Gracchus was slain, the +same day the chickens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> refused to come out of the coop; and Claudius +Pulcher underwent the like success, when he commanded the tripudiary +augurations; they died, not because the pullets would not feed, but +because the devil foresaw their death, and contrived that abstinence in +them.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas was a wise and safe counsellor, in all cases, in which there +was no chance for the devil to operate; but whenever there was a loop +hole, according to the belief in those days, for diabolical influence to +creep through, no man was more inclined to give the devil his due, than +Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>In this chapter, designed to be purely philosophical, he says of +satan—“He deludeth us also by philters, ligatures, charms, ungrounded +amulets, characters, and many superstitious ways, in the cure of common +diseases, seconding herein the expectation of men with events of his own +contriving, which, while some, unwilling to fall directly upon magic, +impute unto the power of imagination, or the efficacy of hidden causes, he +obtains a bloody advantage.” This description of the devil and of his +manœuvres so precisely fits the empiric, and all his proceedings, that +I should suspect Sir Thomas of the unusual sin of perpetrating a +pleasantry; and, under the devil’s <i>effigies</i>, presenting the image of a +charlatan; were it not, for the knowledge we have of this great and good +man’s credulity, and his firm belief in satanic realities; and, that, in +part upon his own testimony, two miserable women were condemned and +executed, for witchcraft.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CVIII" id="No_CVIII"></a>No. CVIII.</h2> + + +<p>John Jahn says, in his Biblical Archæology, Upham’s translation, page 105, +that, in Babylon, when first attacked with disease, the patients were +placed in the streets, for the purpose of ascertaining, from casual +passengers, what practices or medicines <i>they</i> had found useful, in +similar cases. Imagine a poor fellow, suddenly attacked with a windy +colic, and deposited for this purpose, in State Street, in the very place, +formerly occupied, by the razor-strop man, or the magnolia merchant! If it +be true—I very much doubt it—that, in a multitude of counsellors,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span> there +is safety, this must be an excellent arrangement for the patient.</p> + +<p>I have often thought, that benevolence was getting to be an epidemic; +particularly when I have noticed the attentions of one or two hundred +charitably disposed persons, gathered about a conservative horse, that +would not budge an inch. They have not the slightest interest in the +horse, nor in the driver—it’s nothing under heaven, but pure brotherly +love. The driver is distracted, by the advice of some twenty persons, +pointing with sticks and umbrellas, in every direction, and all +vociferating together. In the meanwhile, three or four volunteers are +belaboring the shins of the refractory beast, while as many are rapping +his nose with their sticks. Four stout fellows, at least, are trying to +shove the buggy forward, and as many exerting their energies, to shove the +horse backward. Half a dozen sailors, attracted by the noise, tumble up to +the rescue; three seize the horse’s head, and pull <i>a starboard</i>, and +three take him, by the tail, and pull <i>to larboard</i>, and all yell +together, to the driver, to put his helm hard down. At last, urged, by +rage, terror, and despair, the poor brute shakes off his persecutors, with +a rear, and a plunge, and a leap, and dashes through the bow window of a +confectioner’s shop, or of some dealer in naked women, done in Parian.</p> + +<p>I am very sorry we have been delayed, by this accident. Let us proceed. +Never has there been known, among men, a more universal diffusion of such +a little modicum of knowledge. The knowledge of the materia medica and of +pathology, what there was of it, seems to have been held, by the +Babylonians, as tenants in common, and upon the Agrarian principle—every +man and woman had an equal share of it. Such, according to John Jahn, +Professor of Orientals in Vienna, was the state of therapeutics, in +Babylon.</p> + +<p>The Egyptians carried their sick into the temples of Serapis—the Greeks +to those of Æsculapius. Written receipts were preserved there, for the +cure of different diseases. Professor Jahn certainly seems disposed to +make the most of the knowledge of physic and surgery, among the +Israelites. He says they had “<i>some acquaintance with chirurgical +operations</i>.” In support of this opinion, he refers to the rite of +circumcision, and to—nothing else. He also says, that it is evident +“<i>physicians<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span> sometimes undertook to exercise their skill, in removing +diseases of an internal nature</i>.”</p> + +<p>If the reader is good at conundrums, will he be so obliging as to <i>guess</i>, +upon what evidence the worthy professor grounds this assertion? I perceive +he gives it up—Well—on Samuel I. xvi. 16. And what sayeth Samuel?—“And +Saul’s servants said unto him, behold now an evil spirit from God +troubleth thee. Let our Lord now command thy servants, which are before +thee, to seek out a man, who is a cunning player on a harp: and it shall +come to pass, when the evil spirit from God is upon thee, that he shall +play with his hand, and thou shalt be well.” This, reduced into plain +language, is simply this—Saul’s servants took the liberty of telling his +majesty, that the devil was in him, and he had better have a little music. +Accordingly, David was called in—<i>as a physician</i>, according to Jahn—and +drove the devil out of Saul, by playing on his Jews’-harp. Jahn also +informs us, and the Bible did before, that the art of healing was +committed to the priests, who were specially bound, by law, “<i>to take +cognizance of leprosies</i>.” There were, as he admits, other <i>physicians</i>, +probably of little note. <i>The priests</i> were the regular, legalized +faculty. On this ground, we can explain the severe reproach, cast upon +Asa, who, when he had the gout, “<i>sought not the Lord but to the +physician</i>:” that is, he did not seek the Lord, in prayer, through the +intermediation of the regular faculty, the priests.</p> + +<p>There are ecclesiastics among us, who consider, that the Levitical law is +obligatory upon the priesthood, throughout the United States of America, +at the present day; and who believe it to be <i>their</i> bounden duty, to take +cognizance of leprosies, and all other disorders; and to physick the +bodies, not less than the souls, of their respective parishioners. To this +I sturdily object—not at all, from any doubt of their ability, to +practise the profession, as skilfully, as did the son of Jesse, and to +drive out devils with a Jews’-harp; and to cure all manner of diseases, in +the same manner, in which the learned Kircherus avers, according to Sir +Thomas Browne, vol. ii. page 536, Lond. 1835, the bite of the tarantula is +cured, by songs and tunes; and to soothe boils as big as King Hezekiah’s, +with fig poultices, according to Scripture; for I have the greatest +reverence for that intuition, whereby such men are spared those <i>studia +annorum</i>, so necessary for the acquirement of any <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span>tolerable knowledge of +the art of medicine, by all, who are not in holy orders. My objection is +of quite another kind—I object to the union of the cure of souls and the +cure of bodies, in the same person; as I object to the union of Church and +State, and to the union of the power of the purse and the power of the +sword. It is true, withal, that when a sufferer is killed, by ministerial +physic, which never can happen, of course, but for the patient’s want of +faith, nobody dreams of such an irreverent proceeding, as pursuing the +officious priest, for <i>mala praxis</i>.</p> + +<p>Priests and witches, jugglers, and old women have been the earliest +practitioners of medicine, in every age, and every nation: and the +principal, preventive, and remedial medicines, in all the primitive, +unwritten pharmacopæias, have been consecrated herbs and roots, charms and +incantations, amulets and prayers, and the free use of the Jews’-harp. The +reader has heard the statement of Professor Jahn. In 1803, Dr. +Winterbottom, physician to the colony of Sierra Leone, published, in +London, a very interesting account of the state of medicine, in that +colony. He says, that the practice of physic, in Africa, is entirely in +the hands of old women. These practitioners, like the servants of Saul, +believe, that almost all diseases are caused by evil spirits; in other +words, that their patients are bedevilled: and they rely, mainly, on +charms and incantations. Dr. W. states, that the natives get terribly +drunk, at funerals—funerals produce drunkenness—drunkenness produces +fevers—fevers produce death—and death produces funerals. All this is +imputed to witchcraft, acting in a circle.</p> + +<p>In the account of the Voyage of the Ship Duff to Tongataboo, in 1796, the +missionaries give a similar statement of the popular notion, as to the +origin of diseases—the devil is at the bottom of them all; and exorcism +the only remedy.</p> + +<p>In Mill’s British India, vol. ii. p. 185, Lond. 1826, the reader may find +a statement of the paltry amount of knowledge, on the subject, not only of +medicine, but of surgery, among the Hindoos: “Even medicine and surgery, +to the cultivation of which so obvious and powerful an interest invites, +had scarcely attracted the rude understanding of the Hindus.”</p> + +<p>Sir William Jones, in the Asiatic Researches, vol. i. p. 354, says, “there +is no evidence, that, in any language of Asia, there exists one original +treatise on medicine, considered as a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span>science.” Crawford, in his +Sketches, and he has an exalted opinion of the Hindoos, states, that +surgery is unknown among them; and, that, in cases of wounds from the +sabre or musket, they do no more than wash the wound; bind it up with +fresh leaves, and keep the patient on rice gruel. Buchanan, in his +journey, through Mysore, vol. i. p. 336, informs us, that medicine was in +the hands of ignorant and impudent charlatans. Origen, who was born, about +185 A. D., states that the Egyptians believed thirty-six devils divided +the human body, among them; and that diseases were cured, by supplication +and sacrifice, to the particular devil, within whose precinct the malady +lay. This is a convenient kind of practice. May it not have some relation +to the fact, referred to by Herodotus, in his History, book ii. sec. 84, +that the doctors, in Egypt, were not practitioners, in a general sense, +but for one part of the body only. Possibly, though I affirm nothing of +the sort, Origen may have written <i>devils</i> for <i>doctors</i>, by mistake: for +the doctors, in those days, were, manifestly, very little better.</p> + +<p>If it be true—<i>et quis negat?</i>—that Hippocrates was the father of +physic—the child was neither born nor begotten, before its father, of +course, and Hippocrates was born, about 400 B. C., which, according to +Calmet, was about 600 years after David practised upon Saul, with his +Jews’-harp. His genealogy was quite respectable. He descended from +Æsculapius, through a long line of doctors; and, by the mother’s side, he +was the eighteenth from Hercules, who was, of course, the great +grandfather of physic, at eighteen removes; and who, it will be +remembered, was an eminent practitioner, and doctored the Hydra. Divesting +the subject of all, that is magical and fantastical, Hippocrates thought +and taught such rational things, as no physician had thought and taught +before. It appears amazing to us, the uninitiated, that the healing art +should have been successfully practised at all, from the beginning of the +world, till 1628, in utter ignorance of the circulation of the blood; yet +it was in that year the discovery was made, when Dr. William Harvey +dedicated to Charles I. and published his <i>Exercitatio anatomica de motu +cordis et sanguinis</i>.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="No_CIX" id="No_CIX"></a>No. CIX.</h2> + + +<p>Quackery may be found, in every vocation, from the humblest, to the +holiest.</p> + +<p><i>If the dead rise not at all</i>, says St. Paul, <i>what shall they do, who are +baptized for the dead</i>! Nine different opinions are set forth, by Bosius, +in regard to the true meaning of this passage. Scaliger and Grotius, who +were men of common sense, conclude, that St. Paul referred to a practice, +existing at the time; and St. Chrysostom tells a frolicsome story of this +vicarious baptism; that a living sponsor was concealed under the bed of +the defunct, and answered all the questions, put by the sagacious priest, +to the corpse, about to be baptized.</p> + +<p>The dead have been, occasionally, through inadvertence, summoned to give +evidence, in courts of justice. But, fortunately for quacks, in every +department, dead men are mute upon the stand.</p> + +<p>Saul, if we may believe the singing women, who came out to meet him, after +the fall of Goliath, hath slain his thousands; and, could dead men +testify, it would, doubtless, appear, that quacks have slain their tens of +thousands. When we consider the overbearing influence of that ignorant, +impudent, and plausible jabber, which the quack has always at command, it +must be admitted, that these, his fatal victories, are achieved, with the +very same weapon, employed by Samson, in his destruction of the +Philistines.</p> + +<p>There is nothing marvellous, in the existence of quackery, if we recognize +the maxim of M. Sorbiere, in his <i>Relation d’une Voiage en Angleterre</i>, p. +155, <i>homo est animal credulum et mendax</i>—man is a credulous and lying +animal. David said, that all men were liars; but, as this is found in one +of his lyrics, and he admits, that he uttered it in haste, it may be +fairly carried to the account of <i>poetica licentia</i>. With no more, +however, than a moderate allowance, for man’s notorious diathesis towards +lying, for pleasure or profit, it is truly wonderful, that credulity +should preserve its relative level, as it does, and ever has done, since +the world began. Many, who will not go an inch with the Almighty, without +a sign, will deliver their noses, for safe keeping, into the hands of a +charlatan, and be led by him, blindfold, to the charnel-house. Take away +credulity, and the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span> would speedily prove an exhausted receiver, for +all manner of quackery.</p> + +<p>At the close of the seventeenth century, there was a famous impostor in +France, whom the royal family, on account of his marvellous powers, +invited to Paris. His name was James Aymar. I shall speak of him more +fully hereafter; and refer to him, at present, in connection with a remark +of Leibnitz. Aymar’s imposture had no relation to the healing art, but the +remark of Leibnitz is not, on that account, the less applicable. That +great man wrote a letter, in 1694, which may be found in the Journal of +Tenzelius, in which he refers to Aymar’s fraud, and to his subsequent +confession, before the Prince of Condè. Aymar said, according to Leibnitz, +that he was led on, <i>non tam propria audacia, quam aliena credulitate +hominum, falli volentium, et velut obtrudentium sibi</i>—not so much by his +own audacity, as by the credulity of others, who were not only willing to +be cheated, but actually thrust themselves upon him. All Paris was +occupied, in attempting to explain the mystery of Aymar’s performances, +with his wonderful wand: and Leibnitz says—</p> + +<p><i>Nuper scripsi Parisios, utilius et examine dignius, mihi videri problema +morale vel logicum, quomodo tot viri insignes Lugduni in fraudem ducti +fuerint, quam illud pseudo-physicum, quomodo virga coryllacea tot miracula +operetur</i>—I wrote lately to the Parisians, that a solution of the moral +or logical problem, how it happened, that so many distinguished persons, +in Lyons, came to be taken in, seemed to me of much greater utility, and +far more worthy of investigation, than how this fellow performed miracles, +with his hazel wand.</p> + +<p>It is worth noting, perhaps, that Leibnitz himself, according to the +statement of the Abbé Conti, in the <i>Gazzette Litteraire</i>, for 1765, fell +a victim to a quack medicine, given him by a Jesuit, for the gout.</p> + +<p>Ignorance is the hotbed of credulity. This axiom is not the less +respectable, because the greatest philosophers, occasionally, place +confidence in the veriest fools, and do their bidding. Wise and learned +men, beyond the pale of their professional pursuits, or peculiar studies, +are, very frequently, the simplest of simple folk—<i>non omnia possumus +omnes</i>. Ignorance must be very common; for a vast majority of the human +race have not proceeded so far, in the great volume of wisdom and +knowledge, as that profitable but humiliating chapter, whose perusal is +likely to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> stimulate their energies, by convincing them, that they are of +yesterday and know nothing. Credulity must therefore be very common.</p> + +<p>Credulity has very little scope, for its fantastical operations among the +exact sciences. Who does not foresee the fate of a geometrical quack, who +should maintain, that the square of the hypothenuse, in a right-angled +triangle, is either greater or less than the sum of the squares of the +sides; or of the quack arithmetician, who would persuade our housewives, +that of two and two pounds of Muscovado sugar, he had actually discovered +the art of making five?</p> + +<p>The healing art—the science of medicine, cannot be placed, in the exact +category.</p> + +<p>It is a popular saying, that <i>there is a glorious uncertainty in the law</i>. +This opinion has been ably considered, by that most amiable and learned +man, the late John Pickering, in his lecture, on the alleged uncertainty +of the law—before the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, in +1834. The credulity of the client, to which Mr. Pickering does not refer, +must, in some cases, be of extraordinary strength and quality. After +presenting a case to his counsel, as favorably to himself as he can, and +carefully suppressing much, that is material and adverse, he fondly +believes, that his advocate will be able to mesmerise the court and jury, +and procure a verdict, in opposition to the facts, apparent at the trial. +He is disappointed of course; and then he complains of the uncertainty of +the law, instead of the uncertainty of the facts.</p> + +<p>In a dissertation, before the Medical Society, in June, 1828, Dr. George +Cheyne Shattuck, after setting forth a melancholy catalogue of the +troubles and perplexities of the medical profession, concludes by saying, +that “all these trials, to which the physician is subjected, do not equal +that, which proceeds from the <i>uncertainty</i> of the healing art.” When we +contrast this candid avowal, from an accomplished and experienced +physician, with the splendid promises, and infallible assurances of +empirics—with their balms of Gilead, panaceas, and elixirs of everlasting +life—we cannot marvel, that the larger part of all the invalids, in this +uncertain and credulous world, fly from those conservative professors, who +promise nothing, to such as will assure them of a perfect relief, from +their maladies, no matter how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span> complicated, or chronic, they may be—with +four words of inspiriting import—<span class="smcaplc">NO CURE NO PAY</span>.</p> + +<p>I am no physician; my opinion therefore is not presented <i>ex cathedra</i>: +but the averment of Dr. Shattuck is, I presume, to be viewed in no other +light, than as the opinion of an honorable man, who would rather claim too +little, than too much, for his own profession: who would rather perform +more, than he has promised, than promise more, than he can perform. If the +regularly bred and educated physician complains of uncertainty, none but a +madman would seek for its opposite, in the palace, or the kennel, of a +quack; for the charlatan may occasionally be found in either.</p> + +<p>The first thing to be done, I suppose, by the regular doctor, is to +ascertain what the disease is. This, I believe, is the very last thing, +thought of by the charlatan. He is spared the labor of all pathological +inquiry, for all his medicines are, fortunately, panaceas. Thus, he +administers a medicine, for the gout; the patient does not happen to have +the gout, but the gravel; it is the same thing; for the physic, like our +almanacs, was calculated, for different meridians.</p> + +<p>These gentlemen sometimes limit their practice to particular diseases, +cancers, fistulas, fevers, &c. A memorial was presented, some few years +since, to the legislature of Alabama, for the establishment of a medical +college, to be devoted, exclusively, to vegetable practice. A shrewd, old +member of the assembly rose, and spoke, much after this fashion—I shall +support this measure, Mr. Speaker, on one condition, that a neighbor of +mine shall be appointed president of this college. It is proper, +therefore, that you should know how far he is qualified. He was a +travelling merchant; dealt chiefly in apple-trade and other notions, and +failed. He had once taken an old book, on fevers, in exchange for +essences. This he got by heart. Fevers are common with us. He was a man of +some tact; and, a week after he failed, he put up his sign, “<span class="smcap">Bela Bodkin, +Fever Doctor</span>—<span class="smcap">Roots and Herbs</span>—F. R. S.—L. L. D.—M. D. No charge to the +poor or the reverend clergy.”—When asked, what he meant by adding those +capital letters to his name, he said the alphabet was common property; +that F. R. S. stood for Feverfew, Ragwort, and Slippery Elm—L. L. D. for +Liverwort, Lichens, and Dill—and M. D. for Milk Diet.</p> + +<p>The thing took—his garret was crowded, from morning till<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> night, and the +regular doctor was driven out of that town. Those, who got well, +proclaimed Dr. Bodkin’s praises—those, who died, were a very silent +majority. Everybody declared, of the dead, ’twas a pity they had applied +too late. Bodkin was once called to a farmer’s wife. He entered the house, +with his book under his arm, saying <span class="smcap">Fever!</span> with a loud voice, as he +crossed the threshhold. This evidence of his skill was astonishing. +Without more than a glance at the patient, he asked the farmer, if he had +a sorrel sheep; and, being told, that he had never heard of such a thing, +he inquired, if he had a sorrel horse. The farmer replied, that he had, +and a very valuable one. Dr. Bodkin assured him the horse must be killed +immediately, and a broth made of the <i>in’ards</i> for the sick wife. The +farmer hesitated; the wife groaned; the doctor opened the book, and showed +his authority—there it was—readable enough—“<i>sheep sorrel, horse +sorrel, good in fevers</i>.” The farmer smiled—the doctor departed in anger, +saying, as he went, “you may decide which you will sacrifice, your wife or +your nag.” The woman died, and, shortly after, the horse. The neighbors +considered the farmer a hard-hearted man—the wife a victim to the +husband’s selfishness—the sudden death of the horse a particular +providence—and Dr. Bodkin the most skilful of physicians.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CX" id="No_CX"></a>No. CX.</h2> + + +<p>No class of men, not even the professors of the wrangling art, are, and +ever have been, more universally used and abused, than the members of the +medical profession. It has always appeared to me, that this abuse has been +occasioned, in some degree, by the pompous air and Papal pretensions of +certain members of the faculty; for the irritation of disappointment is, +in the ratio of encouragement and hope; and the tongue of experience can +have little to say of the infallibility of the medical art. The candid +admission of its uncertainty, by Dr. Shattuck, in his dissertation, to +which I have referred, is the true mode of erecting a barrier, between +honorable and intelligent practitioners, and charlatans.</p> + +<p>The opinion of Cato and of Pliny, in regard to the art is, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> course, to +be construed, with an allowance, for its humble condition, in their day. +With the exception of the superstitious, and even magical, employment of +roots and herbs, it consisted, essentially, in externals. There was +nothing like a systematic nosology. The ἰατροι of Athens, and the +<i>medici</i> of Rome were <i>vulnerarii</i>, or surgeons. Cato, who died at the age +of 85, U. C. 605, is reported, by Pliny, lib. xxix. cap. 7, to have said +of the doctors, in a letter to his son Marcus—<i>Jurarunt inter se, +barbaros, necare omnes, medicina</i>. They have sworn among themselves, +barbarians as they are, to kill us all with their physic. In cap. 5 of the +same book, he thus expresses his opinion—<i>mutatur ars quotidie, toties +interpolis, et ingeniorum Greciæ flatu impellimur: palamque est, ut +quisque inter istos loquendo polleat, imperatorem illico vitæ nostræ +necisque fieri: ceu vero non millia gentium sine medicis degant</i>. The art +is varying, from day to day: as often as a change takes place, we are +driven along, by some new wind of doctrine from Greece. When it becomes +manifest, that one of these doctors gains the ascendency, by his +harangues, he becomes, upon the spot, the arbiter of our life and death; +as though there were not thousands of the nations, who got along without +doctors. In the same passage he says, the art was not practised, among the +Romans, until the sixth hundredth year, from the building of the city.</p> + +<p>The healing art seems to have been carried on, in those days, with fire +and sword, that is, with the knife and the cautery. In cap. 6, of the same +book, Pliny tells us, that, U. C. 535, <i>Romam +venisse—vulnerarium—mireque gratum adventum ejus initio: mox a sævitia +secandi urendique transisse nomen in carnificem, et in tædium +artem</i>—there came to Rome a surgeon, who was, at first, cordially +received, but, shortly, on account of his cuttings and burnings, they +called him a butcher, and his art a nuisance.</p> + +<p>A professional wrestler, who was unsuccessful, in his profession, met +Diogenes, the cynic, as we are told, by Diog. Laertius, in Vita, lib. vi. +p. 60, and told him, that he had given up wrestling, and taken to +physic—“<i>Well done</i>,” said the philosopher, “<i>now thou wilt be able to +throw those, who have thrown thee</i>.”</p> + +<p>The revolutions, which took place, in the practice of the healing art, +previously to the period, when Pliny composed his Natural History, are +certainly remarkable. Chrysippus, as far as he was able, overthrew the +system of Hippocrates; Erasistratus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> overthrew the system of Chrysippus; +the Empirics, or experimentalists, overthrew, to the best of their +ability, the system of Erasistratus; Herophilus did the very same thing, +for the Empirics; Asclepiades turned the tables, upon Herophilus; Vexius +Valens next came into vogue, as the leader of a sect; then Thessalus, in +Nero’s age, opposed all previous systems; the system of Thessalus was +overthrown by Crinas of Marseilles; and so on, to the end of the +chapter—which chapter, by the way, somewhat resembles the first chapter +of Matthew, substituting the word <i>overthrew</i> for the word <i>begat</i>.</p> + +<p>Water doctors certainly existed, in those ancient days. After Crinas, says +Pliny, cap. 5, of the same book, there came along one—<i>damnatis non solum +prioribus medicis, verum, et balineis; frigidaque etiam hibernis algoribus +lavari persuasit. Mergit ægros in lacus. Videbamus senes consulares usque +in ostentationem rigentes. Qua de re exstat etiam Annæi Senecæ stipulatio. +Nec dubium est omnes istos famam novitate aliqua aucupantes anima statim +nostra negotiari.</i> Condemning not only all former physicians, but the +baths, then in use, he persuaded his patients to use cold water, during +the rigors of winter. He plunged sick folks in ponds. We have seen certain +aged, consular gentlemen, freezing themselves, from sheer ostentation. We +have the personal statement of Annæus Seneca, in proof of this practice. +Nor can it be doubted, that those quacks, greedily seeking fame, by the +production of some novelty, would readily bargain away any man’s life, for +lucre. The statement of Seneca, to which Pliny refers, may be found in +Seneca’s letters, 53, and 83, both to Lucilius; in which he tells his +friend, that, according to his old usage, he bathed in the Eurypus, upon +the Kalends of January.</p> + +<p>It would be easy to fill a volume, with the railings of such peevish +philosophers, as Michael De Montaigne, against all sorts of physic and +physicians. We are very apt to treat doctors and deities, in the same +way—to scoff at them, in health, and fly to them, in sickness.</p> + +<p>That was a pertinent question of Cicero’s, lib. i. de Divinatione, 14. <i>An +Medicina, ars non putanda est, quam tamen multa fallunt? * * * num +imperatorum scientia nihil est, quia summus imperator nuper fugit, amisso +exercitu? Aut num propterea nulla est reipublicæ gerendæ ratio atque, +prudentia, quia multa Cn. Pompeium, quædam Catonem, nonnulla etiam te +ipsum fe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> fellerunt?</i> As to medicine shall it be accounted not an art, +because of the great uncertainty therein? What, then, is there no such +thing as military skill, because a great commander lately fled, and lost +his army? Can there be no such thing as a wise and prudent government, +because Pompey has been often mistaken, even Cato sometimes, and yourself, +now and then?</p> + +<p>If much more than all, that has been proclaimed, were true, in regard to +the uncertainty of the healing art, still the practice of seeking some +kind of counsel and assistance, whenever a screw gets loose, in our +tabernacle of the flesh, is not likely to go out of fashion. What shall we +do? Follow the tetotum doctor, and swallow a purge, if P. come uppermost? +This is good evidence of our faith, in the doctrine of uncertainty. Or +shall we go for the doctor, who works the cheapest? There is no reason, +why we should not cheapen our physic, if we cheapen our salvation; for +pack horses of all sorts, lay and clerical, are accounted the better +workers, when they are rather low in flesh. Or shall we follow the example +of the mutual admiration society, and get up a mutual physicking +association? Most men are pathologists, by intuition. I have been +perfectly astonished to find how many persons, especially females and root +doctors, know just what ails their neighbors, upon the very first hint of +their being out of order, without even seeing them.</p> + +<p>It is a curious fact, that, while men of honor, thoroughly educated, and +who have devoted their whole lives, to the study and practice of the +healing art, candidly admit its uncertainty, the ignorant and unprincipled +of the earth alone, who have impudently resorted to the vocation, +suddenly, and as an antidote to absolute starvation, boast of their +infallibility, and deal in nothing, but panaceas. The fools, in this +pleasant world, are such a respectable and wealthy minority, that the +charlatan will not cease from among us, until the last of mortals shall +have put on immortality: and then, like the fellow, who entered Charon’s +boat, with his commodities, he will try to smuggle some of his patent +medicines, or <i>leetil doshes</i>, into the other world.</p> + +<p>A curious illustration of the popular notion, that no man is guilty of any +presumptuous sin, merely because, after lying down, at night, a notorious +<i>pedler</i> or <i>tinker</i>, he rises, in the morning, a <i>physician</i>, may be +found, in the fact, that a watchmaker, who would laugh at a tailor, should +he offer to repair a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span> timekeeper, will readily confide in him, as a +physician, for himself, his wife, or his child.</p> + +<p>The most delicate female will sometimes submit her person, to the rubbings +and manipulations of a blacksmith, in preference to following the +prescriptions of a regular physician. A respectable citizen, with a pimple +on the end of his nose, resembling, upon the testimony of a dozen old +ladies, in the neighborhood, the identical cancer, of which every one of +them was cured, by the famous Indian doctress, in Puzzlepot Alley, will, +now and then, give his confidence to a lying, ignorant, half-drunken +squaw, rather than to the most experienced member of the medical +profession.</p> + +<p>Suffer me to close this imperfect sketch, with the words of Lord Bacon, +vol. i. page 120, Lond. 1824. “We see the weakness and credulity of men is +such, as they will often prefer a mountebank or witch, before a learned +physician. And therefore the poets were clear-sighted, in discerning this +extreme folly, when they made Æsculapius and Circe brother and sister. +For, in all times, in the opinion of the multitude, witches, and old +women, and impostors have had a competition with physicians. And what +followeth? Even this, that physicians say, to themselves, as Solomon +expresseth it, upon a higher occasion, <i>If it befall to me, as befalleth +to the fools, why should I labor to be more wise?</i>”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXI" id="No_CXI"></a>No. CXI.</h2> + + +<p>Van Butchell, the fistula-doctor, in London, some forty years ago, had a +white horse, and he painted the animal, with many colored spots. He also +wore an enormous beard. These tricks were useful, in attracting notice. In +the Harleian Miscellany, vol. viii. page 135, Lond. 1810, there is a +clever article on quackery, published in 1678, from which I will extract a +passage or two, for the benefit of the fraternity: “Any sexton will +furnish you with a skull, in hope of your custom; over which hang up the +skeleton of a monkey, to proclaim your skill in anatomy. Let your table be +never without some old musty Greek or Arabic author, and the fourth book +of Cornelius<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> Agrippa’s Occult Philosophy, wide open, with half a dozen +gilt shillings, as so many guineas, received, that morning for fees. Fail +not to oblige neighboring ale-houses to recommend you to inquirers; and +hold correspondence with all the nurses and midwives near you, to applaud +your skill at gossippings. The admiring patient shall cry you up for a +scholar, provided always your nonsense be fluent, and mixed with a +disparagement of the college, graduated doctors, and book-learned +physicians. Pretend to the cure of all diseases, especially those, that +are incurable.”</p> + +<p>There are gentlemen of the medical and surgical professions, whose high +reputation, for science and skill, is perfectly established, and who have +humanely associated their honorable names with certain benevolent +societies. Such is the fact, in regard to Dr. John Collins Warren, who, by +his adoption of the broad ground of total abstinence from all intoxicating +liquors, as a beverage, by men in health, and by his consistent practice +and example, has become entitled to the grateful respect of every +well-wisher of the temperance cause. To the best of my ability, I have +long endeavored to do, for the sextons, the very thing, which that +distinguished man would accomplish for the doctors, and other classes. +Never did mortal more certainly oppose his own interest, than a physician, +or a sexton, who advocates the temperance reform.</p> + +<p>There are, however, personages, in the medical profession, regulars, as +well as volunteers, who cling to certain societies, with the paralyzing +grasp of death—holding on to their very skirts, as boys cling behind our +vehicles, <i>to get a cast</i>. The patronage and advocacy of some of these +individuals are absolutely fatal. It may be surely affirmed of more than +one of their number, <i>nihil tetigit quod non damnavit</i>.</p> + +<p>I have long been satisfied, that, without a great increase of societies, +it will be utterly impossible to satisfy the innumerable aspirants, for +the offices of President, Vice President, &c., in our ambitious community. +A sagacious, medical friend of mine, whose whole heart is devoted to the +public service, and I am sorry to say it, to the injury of his wife and +children, has handed me a list of several societies, for the want of +which, he assures me, the citizens of Boston are actually suffering, at +the present moment. For myself, I cannot pretend to judge of such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span>matters. A publication of the list may interest the benevolent, and, +possibly, promote the cause of humanity. I give it entire:—</p> + +<p>A society, for soothing the feelings and relieving the apprehensions of +criminals, especially midnight assassins.</p> + +<p>A mutual relief society, in case of flatulent colic.</p> + +<p>A society, for the diffusion of buttermilk, with funds to enable the +visiting committee to place a full jug, in the hands of every man, woman +and child, in the United States, upon the first Monday of every month.</p> + +<p>A friendly cockroach-trap society.</p> + +<p>A society, composed exclusively of medical men, without practice, for the +destruction of sowbugs and pismires, throughout the Commonwealth.</p> + +<p>A society, for the promotion of domestic happiness, with power to send for +persons and papers.</p> + +<p>A society, for elevating the standard of education, by introducing +trigonometry into infant schools.</p> + +<p>An association, for the gratuitous administration, to the poorer classes, +by steam power, of anodyne clysters.</p> + +<p>Let us return to the faculty. I am in favor of some peculiarity, in the +dress and equipage of medical men. With the exception of certain stated +hours, they cannot be found at home; and the case may be one of emergency. +Van Butchell’s spotted horse was readily distinguished, from Charing Cross +to Temple Bar. This was very convenient for those, who were in quest of +that remarkable leech. A small mast, abaft the vehicle, whether sulky, +buggy, chariot, or phaeton, bearing the owner’s private signal, would +afford great public accommodation. There is nothing more nautical in such +an arrangement, than in the use of the <i>killeck</i>, or small anchor, which +many of the faculty regularly cast, when they are about to board a +patient, and as regularly weigh, when they are about to take a new +departure.</p> + +<p>The bright yellow chariot of Dr. Benjamin Rush was universally known in +Philadelphia, and its environs; and his peculiar features are not likely +to escape from the memory of any man, who ever beheld them. These striking +points were seized, by that arch villain, Cobbett, when he published his +pictured libel, representing that eminent physician, looking out of his +chariot window, with a label, proceeding from his mouth—<i>Bleed and purge +all Kensington!</i> Upon Cobbett’s trial for this libel, Dr. Rush swore, +that, by making him ridiculous, it had seriously affected his practice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span>Dr. James Lloyd was easily discovered, by his large bay horse—take him +for all in all—the finest harness gelding of his day, in Boston. With the +eyes of a Swedenborgian, I see the good, old doctor now; and I hear the +tramp of those highly polished, white topped boots; and I almost feel the +lash of his horsewhip, around my boyish legs, rather too harshly +administered, for mild practice however—but he was an able physician, and +a gentleman—<i>factus ad unguem</i>. His remarkable courtliness of manner, +arose, doubtless, in some degree, from his relation to the nobility. +During the siege, General Howe and Lord Percy were his intimate friends; +the latter was his tenant in 1775, occupying the Vassal estate, for which +Dr. Lloyd was the agent, and which afterwards became the residence of the +late Gardner Greene.</p> + +<p>Dr. Danforth, who resided, in 1789, near the residence of Dr. Lloyd, on +Pemberton’s Hill, nearly opposite Concert Hall, and, subsequently, in +Green Street, might be recognized, by the broad top of his chaise, and the +unvarying moderation of the pace, at which he drove. He was tall and thin. +His features were perfectly Brunonian. There seemed to be nothing +antiphlogistic about him. When pleased, he was very gentlemanly, in his +manner and carriage. He ever placed himself, with remarkable exactitude, +in the very centre of his vehicle, bolt upright; and, with his stern +expression, wrinkled features, remarkably aquiline nose, prominent chin, +and broad-brimmed hat, appeared, even some fifty years ago, like a remnant +of a by-gone age. He had been a royalist. His manners were occasionally +rough and overbearing.</p> + +<p>I remember to have told my mother, when a boy, that I should not like to +take Dr. Danforth’s physic. The character of his practice is, doubtless, +well remembered, by those, who have taken his <i>divers</i>, as they were +called, and lived to tell of it. The late Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse being +interrogated, by some aged spinsters, as to the difference, between the +practice of Dr. Danforth and his opponents, replied, that there were two +ways of putting a disordered clock in tolerable condition—the first, by +taking it apart, cleaning its various members of their dust and dirt, +applying a little oil to the pivots, and attaching no other than its +former weight; “and then,” said he, “it will go very well, for a +considerable time; and this we call the anti-Brunonian system.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span>The second method he described, as follows: “You are to take no pains +about examining the parts; let the dust and dirt remain, by all means; +apply no oil to the pivots; but hitch on three or four times the original +weight, and you will be able to drag it along, after a fashion; and this +is the Brunonian system.” In this, the reader will recognize one of the +pleasantries of Dr. Waterhouse, rather than an impartial illustration.</p> + +<p>Dr. Isaac Rand, the son of Dr. Isaac Rand, of Charlestown, lived, in 1789, +some sixty years ago, in Middle Street, just below Cross: in after years, +he resided, till his death, in 1822, in Atkinson Street. He was a pupil of +Dr. Lloyd. His liberalities to the poor became a proverb. The chaise, in +which he practised, in his latter days, was a notable object. The width of +it, though not equal to that of Solomon’s temple, was several cubits. It +became the property of the late Sheriff Badlam, who filled it to +admiration. The mantle of Elijah was not a closer fit, upon the shoulders +of Elisha.</p> + +<p>Dr. Rand was an able physician, and a truly good man. He made rather a +more liberal use of the learned terms of his profession, than was the +practice of other physicians. With him, this arose from habit, and a +desire to speak with accuracy, and not from affectation. Charles Austin +was shot dead, in State Street, by Thomas O. Selfridge, August 4, 1806, in +self-defence. Dr. Rand was a witness, at the trial; and his long and +learned, professional terms, so completely confounded the stenographers, +that they were obliged to beat the <i>chamade</i>, and humbly beg for plainer +English.</p> + +<p>I have more to say of these interesting matters, but am too near the +boundary wall of my paper, to enter upon their consideration, at present.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXII" id="No_CXII"></a>No. CXII.</h2> + + +<p>In my last number, I referred to three eminent physicians, of the olden +time, Drs. Lloyd, Danforth, and Rand. Some sixty years ago, there were +three and twenty physicians, in this city, exclusive of quacks. The +residences of the three I have already stated. Dr. James Pecker resided, +at the corner of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> Hanover and Friend Street—Thomas Bulfinch, in Bowdoin +Square—Charles Jarvis, in Common Street—Lemuel Hayward, opposite the +sign of the White Horse, in Newbury Street—Thomas Kast, in Fish Street, +near the North Square—David Townsend, in Southack’s Court—John Warren, +next door to Cromwell’s Head, in South Latin School Street, then kept by +Joshua Brackett—Thomas Welsh, in Sudbury Street, near Concert +Hall—William Eustis, in Sudbury Street, near the Mill Pond—John Homans, +No. 6 Marlborough Street—John Sprague, in Federal Street—Nathaniel W. +Appleton, in South Latin School Street, near the Stone Chapel—Joseph +Whipple, in Orange Street—Aaron Dexter, in Milk Street, opposite the +lower end of the rope walks, that were burnt, in the great fire, July 30, +1794—Abijah Cheever, in Hanover Street—William Spooner, in Cambridge +Street—John Fleet, in Milk Street—Amos Winship, in Hanover +Street—Robert Rogerson, in Ship Street—Alexander A. Peters, in +Marlborough Street—John Jeffries, who, in 1776, went to Halifax, with the +British garrison, did not return and resume practice in Boston, till 1790.</p> + +<p>Ten years after, in 1799, the number had increased to twenty-nine, of whom +nineteen were of the old guard of 1789.</p> + +<p>In 1816, the number had risen to forty-three, of whom eight only were of +1789. In 1830, the number was seventy-five, two only surviving of +1789—Drs. William Spooner and Thomas Welsh.</p> + +<p>In 1840, we had, in Boston, one hundred and twenty-two physicians, +surgeons, and dentists, and a population of 93,383. There are now, in this +physicky metropolis, according to the Directory, for 1848-9, physicians, +of all sorts, not including those for the soul, but doctors, surgeons, +dentists, regulars and quacks, of all colors and both sexes, 362. <span class="smcap">Three +hundred and sixty-two</span>: an increase of two hundred and forty, in eight +years. This is certainly encouraging. If 122 doctors are quite as many, as +93,383 Athenians ought to bear, 362 require about 280,000 patients, and +such should be our population. Let us arrange this formidable host. At the +very <i>tete d’armee</i>, marching left in front, we have seven <i>Female +Physicians</i>, preceded by an <i>Indian doctress</i>—next in order, come the +surgeon <i>Dentists</i>, seventy in number—then the main body, to whom the +publisher of the Directory courteously and indiscriminately applies the +title of <i>Physicians</i>, two hundred and fifty-seven, rank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span> and file;—seven +and twenty <i>Botanic Doctors</i> bring up the rear! How appropriate, in the +hand of the very last of this enormous <i>cortege</i>, would be a banner, +inscribed with those well known words—<span class="smcap">God save the Commonwealth of +Massachusetts!</span></p> + +<p>I shall devote this paper to comparative statistics. In 1789, with +twenty-three physicians in Boston, four less, than the present number of +<i>botanic doctors</i> alone, and three hundred and thirty-nine less, than the +present number of regulars and pretenders, there were nine only of <i>our</i> +profession, regularly enrolled, as F. U., funeral undertakers, and placed +upon a footing with the Roman <i>designatores</i>, or <i>domini funerum</i>. There +were several others, who bore to our profession the same relation, which +bachelors of medicine bear to theirs, and who were entitled to subscribe +themselves D. G., diggers of graves. Yet in 1840, the year, which I take, +as a <i>point d’appui</i> for my calculations, there were only twenty, enrolled +as F. U., with 362 medical operatives, busily at work, day and night, upon +the insides and outsides of our fellow-citizens! Here is matter for +marvel! How was it done? Did the dead bury the dead? I presume the +solution lies, in the fact, that there existed an unrecorded number of +those, who were D. G. only.</p> + +<p>There were few dentists, <i>eo nomine</i>, some sixty years ago. Our ancestors +appear to have gotten along pretty comfortably, in spite of their teeth. +Many of those, who practised the “<i>dental art</i>,” had so little employment, +that it became convenient to unite their dental practice, with some other +occupation. Thus John Templeman, was a <i>broker and dentist</i>, at the +northeast corner of the Old State House. Whitlock was, doubtless, +frequently called out, from a rehearsal, at the play house, to pull a +refractory grinder. Isaac Greenwood advertises, in the Columbian Sentinel +of June 1, 1785, not only his desire to wait upon all, who may require his +services, at their houses, in the dental line; but a variety of umbrellas, +canes, silk caps for bathing, dice, chess men, and cane for hoops and +bonnets, by the dozen, or single stick. In the Boston Mercury of Jan. 6, +1797, W. P. Greenwood combines, with his dental profession, the sale of +piano-fortes and guitars. In 1799, the registered dentists were three +only, Messrs. Isaac and Wm. P. Greenwood, and Josiah Flagg. In 1816, there +were three only, Wm. P. Greenwood, Thomas Parsons, and Thomas Barnes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span>It would appear somewhat extravagant, perhaps, to state, that, including +doctors of all sorts, there is a fraction more than two doctors to every +one merchant, <i>eo nomine</i>, excluding commission merchants, of course, in +the city of Boston. Such, nevertheless, appears to be the fact, unless Mr. +Adams has made some important error, which I do not suspect, in his +valuable Directory, for 1848-9.</p> + +<p>It will not be utterly worthless, to contemplate the quartermaster’s +department of this portentous army; and compare it with the corresponding +establishment of other times. In 1789, there were fifteen druggists and +apothecaries, in the town of Boston. Examples were exceedingly rare, in +those days, of wholesale establishments, exclusively dealing in drugs and +medicines. At present, we have, in this city, eighty-nine apothecaries, +doing business, in as many different places—drugs and medicines are also +sold, at wholesale, in forty-four establishments—there are fourteen +special depots, for the sale of patent medicines, Gordak’s drugs, Indian +purgatives, Holman’s restorative, Brandreth’s pills, Sherry wine bitters, +and pectoral balsam, Graefenberg’s medicines, and many other kinds of +nastiness—eighteen dealers exclusively in botanic medicines—ninety-seven +nurses—twenty-eight undertakers—and eight warehouses for the sale of +coffins!</p> + +<p>It is amusing, if nothing worse, to compare the relative increase, in the +number of persons, who are, in various ways, employed about the sick, the +dying, and the dead, in killing, or curing, or comforting, or burying, +with the increase in some other crafts and callings. In 1789, there were +thirty-one bakers, in Boston: there are now fifty-seven. The number has +not doubled in sixty years. The number of doctors then, as I have stated, +was twenty-three: now, charlatans included, it falls short, only six, of +sixteen times that number.</p> + +<p>There were then sixty-seven tailors’ shops; there are now one hundred and +forty-eight such establishments. There were then thirty-six barbers, +hair-dressers, and wig-makers: there are now ninety-one. There were then +one hundred and five cabinet-makers and carpenters: there are now three +hundred and fifty. This ratio of comparison will, by no means, hold, in +some other callings. There were then nine auctioneers: there are now +fifty-two. There were then seven brokers, of all sorts: there are now two +hundred and ten. The source from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> which I draw my information, is the +Directory of 1789, “printed and sold by John Norman, at Oliver’s Dock,” +and of which the writer speaks, in his preface, as “<i>this first attempt</i>.” +For want of sufficient designation, it is impossible, in this primitive +work, to pick out the members of the legal profession. Compared with the +present fraternity, whose name is legion, they were very few. There are +more than three hundred and fifty practitioners of the law, in this city. +In this, as in the medical profession, there are, and ever will be, <i>ex +necessitate rei</i>, infernal scoundrels, and highly intelligent and +honorable men—blind guides and safe counsellors. Not very long ago, a day +of purification was appointed—some plan seemed to be excogitating, for +the ventilation of the brotherhood. For once, they were gathered together, +brothers, looking upon the features of brothers, and knowing them not. +This was an occasion of mutual interest, and the arena was common + +ground—they came, some of them, doubtless, from strange quarters, lofty +attics and lowly places—</p> + +<p class="poem">“From all their dens the one-eyed race repair,<br /> +From rifted rocks, and mountains high in air.”</p> + +<p>When doctors, lawyers, and brokers are greatly upon the increase, it is +very clear, that we are getting into the way of submitting our bodies and +estates, to be frequently, and extensively, tinkered.</p> + +<p>I cannot doubt, that in 1789, there were quacks, about town, who could not +contrive to get their names inserted, in the same page, with the regular +physicians. I cannot believe, however, that they bore any proportion to +the unprincipled and ignorant impostors, at the present time. In the +“Massachusetts Centinel,” of Sept. 21, 1785, is the following +advertisement—“<i>John Pope, who, for eighteen years past, has been noted +for curing Cancers, schrophulous Tumours, fetid and phagedenic Ulcers, +&c., has removed into a house, the north corner of Orange and Hollis +Street, South End, Boston, where he proposes to open a school, for +Reading, Writing, Arithmetick, &c.</i>”</p> + +<p>In 1789 there were twenty-two distillers of rum in Boston: there are nine +only, named in the Directory of 1848-9. The increase of doctors and all +the appliances of sickness and death have not probably arisen from the +falling off, among distillers. In 1789, there were about twenty +innholders: there are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> now eighty-eight public houses, hotels, or +taverns—ninety-two restaurants—thirty-five confectionery +establishments—thirty-nine stores, under the caption of “liquors and +wines”—sixty-nine places, for the sale of oysters, which are not always +the <i>spiritless</i> things they appear to be—one hundred and forty-three +wholesale dealers, in West India goods and groceries—three hundred and +seventy-three retailers of such articles: I speak not of those, who fall +below the dignity of history; whose operations are entirely subterraneous; +and whose entire stock in trade might be carried, in a wheelbarrow. We +have also one hundred and fifty-two provision dealers. We live well in +this city. It would be very pleasant, to walk over it, with old Captain +Keayne, who died here, March 23, 1656, and who left a sum of money to the +town, to erect a granary or storehouse, for the poor, in case of famine!</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXIII" id="No_CXIII"></a>No. CXIII.</h2> + + +<p>The Quack is commonly accounted a spurious leech—a false +doctor—clinging, like a vicious barnacle, to the very bottom of the +medical profession. But impostors exist, in every craft, calling, and +profession, under the names of quacks, empirics, charmers, magicians, +professors, sciolists, plagiaries, enchanters, charlatans, pretenders, +judicial astrologers, quacksalvers, muffs, mountebanks, medicasters, +barrators, cheats, puffs, champertors, cuckoos, diviners, jugglers, and +verifiers of suggestions.</p> + +<p>Butler, in his Hudibras, says, of medical quacks, they</p> + +<p class="poem">Seek out for plants, with signatures,<br /> +To quack of universal cures.</p> + +<p>In the Spectator, Addison has this observation—“At the first appearance, +that a French quack made in Paris, a boy walked before him, publishing, +with a shrill voice, ‘<i>my father cures all sorts of distempers</i>;’ to which +the doctor added, in a grave manner, ‘<i>what the boy says is true</i>.’”</p> + +<p>The imposture of James Aymar, to which I have alluded, was of a different +kind. Aymar was an ignorant peasant of Dauphiné. He finally confessed +himself to be an impostor, before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> the Prince of Condè; and the whole +affair is narrated, by the apothecary of the prince, in a <i>Lettre à M. +L’Abbé, D. L., sur les veritables effets de la baguette de Jaques Aymar +par P. Buissiere; chez Louis Lucas, à Paris, 1694</i>.</p> + +<p>The power of this fellow’s wand was not limited, to the discovery of +hidden treasures, or springs of water; nor were his only dupes the lowly +and the ignorant. As I have said, he was detected, and made a full +confession, before the Prince of Condè. The magistrates published an +official account of the imposture; yet such is the energy of the credulous +principle, that M. Vallemont, a man of note, published a treatise “<i>on the +occult philosophy of the divining wand</i>;” in which he tries to show, that +Aymar, notwithstanding his mistakes, before the Prince, was really +possessed of all the wonderful power he claimed, of divining with his +wand. The measure of this popular credulity will be better understood, +after perusing the following translation of an extract from the <i>Mercure +Historique</i>, for April, 1697, page 440.—“The Prior of the Carthusians +passed through Villeneuve with Aymar, to discover, by the aid of his wand, +some landmarks, that were lost. Just before, a foundling had been left on +the steps of the monastery. Aymar was employed, by the Superior, to find +out the father. Followed by a great crowd, and guided by the indications +of his wand, he went to the village of Comaret, in the County of +Venaissin, and thence to a cottage, where he affirmed the child was born.”</p> + +<p>Bayle says, on the authority of another letter from M. Buissiere, in +1698, that Aymar’s apparent simplicity, and rustic dialect, and the rapid +motion of his wand went far, to complete the delusion. He was also +exceedingly devout, and never absent from mass, or confession. While he +was at Paris, and before his exposure, the Pythoness, herself, would not +have been more frequently, and zealously consulted, than was this crafty +and ignorant boor, by the Parisians. Fees showered in from all quarters; +and he was summoned, in all directions, to detect thieves; recover lost +property; settle the question of genuine identity, among the relics of +<i>prima facie</i> saints, in different churches; and, in truth, no limit was +set, by his innumerable dupes, to the power of his miraculous wand. “I +myself,” says M. Buissiere, “saw a simple, young fellow, a silk weaver, +who was engaged to a girl, give Aymar a couple of crowns, to know if she +were a virgin.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span>Joseph Francis Borri flourished, about the middle of the seventeenth +century, and a most complicated scoundrel he was—heresiarch, traitor, +alchymist, and empiric. He had spiritual revelations, of course. He was an +intelligent and audacious liar, and converts came in apace. At his +suggestion, his followers took upon themselves an oath of poverty, and +placed all they possessed in the hands of Borri, who told them he would +take care it should never again interfere with their devotions, but would +be spent in prayers and masses, for their ulcerated souls. The bloodhounds +of the Inquisition were soon upon his track, at the moment he was about to +raise the standard of insurrection in Milan.</p> + +<p>He fled to Amsterdam—made capital of his persecution by the Inquisition; +and won the reputation of a great chemist, and wonderful physician. He +then went to Hamburg, and persuaded Queen Christina, to advance him a +large sum of money, to be reimbursed, from the avails of the philosopher’s +stone, which Borri was to discover. This trick was clearly worth +repeating. So thought Borri; and he tried it, with still better success, +on his Majesty of Denmark. Still the stone remained undiscovered; and the +thought occurred to Signor Borri, that it might not be amiss, to look for +it, in Turkey. He accordingly removed; but was arrested at Vienna, by the +Pope’s agents; and consigned to the prisons of the Inquisition, for life. +His fame, however, had become so omnipotent, that, upon the earnest +application of the Duke d’Etrée, he was let loose, to prescribe for that +nobleman, whom the regular physicians had given over. The Duke got well, +and the world gave Borri the credit of the cure. When a poor suffering +mortal is given over, in other words, <i>let alone</i>, by half a dozen +doctors—I am speaking now of the regulars, not less than of the +volunteers—he, occasionally, gets well.</p> + +<p>A wit replied to a French physician, who was marvelling how a certain Abbé +came to die, since he himself and three other physicians were unremitting, +in their attentions—“<i>My dear doctor, how could the poor abbé sustain +himself, against you all four?</i>” The doctors do much as they did of old. +Pliny, lib. xxix. 5, says, of consultations—“<i>Hinc illæ circa ægros +miseræ sententiarum concertationes, nullo idem censente ne videatur +accessio alterius. Hinc illa infelicis monumenti inscriptio</i>, <span class="smcaplc">TURBA SE +MEDICORUM PERIISSE</span>.” Hence those contemptible consultations,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span> round the +beds of the sick—no one assenting to the opinion of another, lest he +should be deemed his subaltern. Hence the monumental inscription, over the +poor fellow, who was destroyed in this way—<span class="smcaplc">KILLED BY A MOB OF DOCTORS!</span></p> + +<p>Who has not seen a fire rekindle, <i>sua sponte</i>, after the officious +bellows have, apparently, extinguished the last spark? So, now and then, +the vital spark, stimulated by the <i>vis medicatrix naturæ</i> will rekindle +into life and action, after having been well nigh smothered, by all sorts +of complicated efforts to restore it.</p> + +<p>This is the <i>punctum instans</i>, the very nick of time, for the charlatan: +in he comes, looking insufferably wise, and brim full of sympathetic +indignation. All has been done wrong, of course. While he affects to be +doing everything, he does exactly nothing—stirs up an invisible, +impalpable, infinitessimal, incomprehensible particle, in a little water, +which the patient can neither see, feel, taste, nor smell. Down it goes. +The patient’s faith, as to the size of it, rather resembles a cocoanut +than a grain of mustard seed. His confidence in the <i>new</i> doctor is as +gigantic, and as blind, as Polyphemus, after he had been <i>gouged</i>, by him +of Ithaca. He plants his galvanic grasp, upon the wrist of the little +doctor, much in the manner of a drowning man, clutching at a full grown +straw. He is absolutely better already. The wife and the little ones look +upon the mountebank, as their preserver from widowhood and orphanage. +“<i>Dere ish noting</i>,” he says, “<i>like de leetil doshes</i>;” and he takes his +leave, regretting, as he closes the door, that his sleeve is not large +enough, to hold the sum total of his laughter. Yet some of these quacks +become <i>honest men</i>; and, however surprised at the result, they are +finally unable, to resist the force of the popular outcry, in their own +favor. They almost forget their days of duplicity, and small things—they +arrive, somehow or other, at the conclusion, that, however unexpectedly, +they are great men, and their wild tactics a system. They use longer +words, move into larger houses, and talk of first principles: and all the +practice of a neighborhood finally falls into the hands of Dr. Ninkempaup +or Dr. Pauketpeeker.</p> + +<p>Francis Joseph Borri died, in prison, in 1695. Sorbiere in his <i>Voiage en +Angleterre</i>, page 158, describes him thus—“He is a cunning blade; a +lusty, dark-complexioned, good-looking fellow, well dressed, and lives at +considerable expense, though not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> at such a rate, as some suppose; for +eight or ten thousand livres will go a great way at Amsterdam. But a +house, worth 15,000 crowns, in a fine location, five or six footmen, a +French suit of clothes, a treat or two to the ladies, the occasional +refusal of fees, five or six rix dollars distributed, at the proper time +and place among the poor, a spice of insolence in discourse, and sundry +other artifices have made some credulous persons say, that he gave away +handfulls of diamonds, that he had discovered the philosophers stone, and +the universal medicine.” When he was in Amsterdam, he appeared in a +splendid equipage, was accosted, by the title of “<i>your excellence</i>,” and +they talked of marrying him to one of the greatest fortunes.</p> + +<p>I have no taste for unsocial pleasures. Will the reader go with me to +Franklin Place—let us take our station near No. 2, and turn our eyes to +the opposite side—let us put back the hand of the world’s timekeeper, +some thirty years. A showy chariot, very peculiar, very yellow, and +abundantly supplied with glass, with two tall bay horses, gaudily +harnessed, is driven to the door of the mansion, by a coachman, in livery; +and there it stands; till, after the expiration of an hour, perhaps, the +house door is flung open, and there appears, upon the steps, a tall, dark +visaged, portly personage, in black, who, looking slowly up and down the +avenue, proceeds, with great deliberation, to draw on his yellow, buckskin +gloves. Rings glitter upon his fingers; seals, keys, and safety chain, +upon his person. His beaver, of an unusual form, is exquisitely glossy, +surpassed, by nothing but the polish of his tall suwarrows, surmounted +with black, silk tassels.</p> + +<p>He descends to the vehicle—the door is opened, with a bow of profound +reverence, which is scarcely acknowledged, and in he gets, the very fac +simile of a Spanish grandee. The chariot moves off, so very slowly, that +we can easily follow it, on foot—on it goes, up Franklin, and down +Washington, up Court, into Tremont, down School, into Washington, along +Washington, up Winter, and through Park to Beacon Street, where it halts, +before the mansion of some respectable citizen. The occupant alights, and, +leaving his chariot there, proceeds, through obscure and winding ways, to +visit his patients, on foot, in the purlieus of <i>La Montagne</i>.</p> + +<p>This was no other than the celebrated patentee of the famous bug liquid; +who was forever putting the community on its guard, by admonishing the +pill-taking public, that they <i>could not be too particular</i>, for <i>none +were genuine, unless signed W. T. Conway</i>.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="No_CXIV" id="No_CXIV"></a>No. CXIV.</h2> + + +<p>Charity began at home—I speak of Charity Shaw, the famous root and herb +doctress, who was a great blessing to all undertakers, in this city, for +many years—her practice was, at first, purely domestic—she began at +home, in her own household; and, had she ended there, it had fared better, +doubtless, with many, who have received the final attentions of our craft. +The mischief of quackery is negative, as well as positive. Charity could +not be fairly classed with those reckless empirics, who, rather than lose +the sale of a nostrum, will send you directly to the devil, for a dollar: +Charity was kind, though she vaunted herself a little in the newspapers. +She was, now and then, rather severely handled, but she bore all things, +and endured all things, and hoped all things; for, to do her justice, she +was desirous, that her patients should recover: and, if she believed not +all things, her patients did; and therein consisted the negative +mischief—in that stupid credulity, which led them to follow this poor, +ignorant, old woman, and thus prevented them, from applying for relief, +where, if anywhere, in this uncertain world, it may be found—at the +fountains of knowledge and experience. In Charity’s day, there were +several root and herb practitioners; but the greatest of these was +Charity.</p> + +<p>Herb doctors have, for some two thousand years, attempted to turn back the +tables, upon the faculty—they are a species of <i>garde mobile</i>, who have +an old grudge against the <i>corps regulier</i>: for they have not forgotten, +that, some two thousand years ago, herb doctors had all things pretty much +in their own way. Two entire books, the twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh of +Pliny’s Natural History, are devoted to a consideration of the medicinal +properties of herbs—the twentieth treats of the medicinal properties of +vegetables—the twenty-third and twenty-fourth of the medicinal properties +of roots and barks. Thus, we see, of what importance these simples were +accounted, in the healing art, in that early age. Herbs, barks, and roots +were, and, for ages, had been, the principal <i>materia medica</i>, and were +employed, by the different sects—by the Rationalists, of whom Pliny, lib. +xxvi. cap. 6, considers Herophilus the head, though this honor is +ascribed, by Galen, to Hippocrates—the Empirics, or experimentalists—and +the Methodics, who avoided all actions, for <i>mala<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> praxis</i>, by adhering to +the rules. Pliny manifestly inclined to herb doctoring. In the chapter, +just now referred to, after alluding to the <i>verba, garrulitatemque</i> of +certain lecturers, he intimates, that they and their pupils had an easy +time of it—<i>sedere namque his in scholis auditioni operatos gratius erat, +quam ire in solitudines, et quœrere herbas alias aliis diebus +anni</i>—for it was pleasanter to sit, listening in the lecture-rooms, than +to run about in the fields and woods, culling certain simples, on certain +days in the year.</p> + +<p>Herb doctors were destined to be overthrown; and the account, given by +Pliny, in chapters 7, 8 and 9, book xxvi. of the sudden and complete +revolution, in the practice of the healing art, is curious and +interesting.</p> + +<p>Asclepiades, of Prusa, in Bythinia, came to Rome, in the time of Pompey +the Great, about one hundred years before Christ, to teach rhetoric; and, +like an impudent hussy, who came to this city, as a cook, from Vermont, +some years ago, and, not succeeding, in that capacity, but hearing, that +wet nurses obtained high wages here, prepared herself, for that lucrative +occupation—so Asclepiades, not succeeding, as a rhetorician, prepared +himself for a doctor. He was ignorant of the whole matter; but a man of +genius; and, as he knew nothing of root and herb practice, he determined +to cut up the whole system root and branch, and substitute one of his +own—<i>torrenti ac meditata quotidie oratione blandiens omnia abdicavit: +totamque medicinam ad causam revocando, conjecturæ fecit</i>. By the power of +his forcible and preconcerted orations, pronounced from day to day, in a +smooth and persuasive manner, he overthrew the whole; and, bringing back +the science of medicine to cause and effect, he constructed a system of +inference or conjecture. Pliny is not disposed to be altogether pleased +with Asclepiades, though he recounts his merits fairly. He says of +him—<i>Id solum possumus indignari, unum hominem, e levissima gente, sine +ullis opibus orsum, vectigalis sua causa, repente leges salutis humano +genere dedisse, quas tamen postea abrogavere multi</i>—at least, we may feel +rather indignant, that one, born among a people, remarkable for their +levity, born also in poverty, toiling for his daily support, should thus +suddenly lay down, for the human race, the laws of health, which, +nevertheless, many rejected afterwards.</p> + +<p>Now it seems to me, that Asclepiades was a very clever fellow; and I +think, upon Pliny’s own showing, there was more reason, for indignation, +against a people, who had so long tolerated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> the marvellous absurdities of +the herb system, such as it then was, than against a man, who had the good +sense to perceive, and the courage and perseverance to explode, them. What +there was in the poverty of Asclepiades, or in the character of his +countrymen, to rouse Pliny’s indignation, I cannot conceive. Pliny says, +lib. xxvi. cap. 9, after naming several things, which promoted this great +change, in the practice of Physic—<i>Super omnia adjuvere eum magicæ +vanitates, in tantum erectæ, ut abrogare herbis fidem cunctis possent</i>. He +was especially assisted in his efforts, by the excesses, to which the +magical absurdities had been carried, in respect to herbs, so that they +alone were enough to destroy all confidence, in such things.</p> + +<p>Pliny proceeds to narrate some of these magical absurdities—the plant +Æthiops, thrown into lakes and rivers, would dry them up—the touch of it +would open everything, that was shut. The Achæmenis, cast among the enemy, +would cause immediate flight. The Latace would ensure plenty. Josephus +also, De Bell, Ind. lib. vii. cap. 25—speaks of an excellent root for +driving out devils.</p> + +<p>Pliny says, Asclepiades laid down five important +particulars—<i>abstinentiam cibi</i>, <i>alias vini</i>, <i>fricationem corporis</i>, +<i>ambulationem</i>, <i>gestationes</i>—abstinence from meat, and, at other times, +from wine, friction of the body, walking, and various kinds of gestation, +on horseback, and otherwise. There were some things, in the old practice, +<i>nimis anxia et rudia</i>, too troublesome and coarse, whose rejection +favored the new doctor greatly, <i>obruendi agros veste sudoresque omni modo +ciendi; nunc corpora ad ignes torrendi</i>, etc.—smothering the sick in +blankets, and exciting perspiration, by all possible means—roasting them +before fires, &c. Like every other ingenious physician, he had something +pleasant, of his own contriving, to propose—<i>tum primum pensili +balinearum usu ad infinitum blandientem</i>—then first came up the +employment of hanging baths, to the infinite delight of the public. These +hanging baths, which Pliny says, lib. ix. 79, were really the invention of +Sergius Orata, were rather supported than suspended—fires were kindled +below—there were different <i>ahena</i>, or caldrons, the <i>caldarium</i>, and +<i>frigidarium</i>. The <i>corrivatio</i> was simply the running together of the +cold and hot water. Annexed was the <i>laconicum</i>, or sweating room. The +curious reader may compare the Roman baths with those at Constantinople, +described by Miss Pardoe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span><i>Alia quoque blandimenta</i>, says Pliny, <i>excogitabat, jam suspendendo +lectulos, quorum jactatu aut morbos extenuaret, aut somnos alliceret</i>. He +excogitated other delights, such as suspended beds, whose motion soothed +the patient, or put him to sleep. The principle here seems pretty +universal, lying at the bottom of all those simple contrivances, +rocking-chairs, cribs, and cradles, swings, hammocks, &c. This is truly +Indian practice—</p> + +<p class="poem">Rock-a-bye baby upon the tree top,<br /> +And, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock.</p> + +<p><i>Præterea in quibusdam morbis medendi cruciatus detraxit, ut in anginis +quas curabant in fauces organo demisso. Damnavit merito et vomitiones, +tunc supra modum frequentes.</i> He also greatly diminished the severity of +former practice, in certain diseases, in quinsies for example, which they +used to cure, with an instrument, introduced into the fauces. He very +properly condemned those vomitings, then frequent, beyond all account. +This refers to the Roman usage, which is almost incomprehensible by us. +Celsus, De Med. lib. i. 3, refers to it, as the practice <i>eorum, qui +quotidie ejiciendo, vorandi facultatem moliuntur</i>—of those, who, by +vomiting daily, acquired the faculty of gormandizing. Suetonius says of +the imperial brute, Vitellius, sec. xiii. that he regularly dined, at +three places daily, <i>facile omnibus sufficiens, vomitandi +consuetudine</i>—easily enabled to do so, by his custom of vomiting.</p> + +<p>Pliny’s reflection, upon the success of the new doctor, is very +natural—<i>quæ quum unusquisque semetipsum sibi præstare posse +intelligeret, faventibus cunctis, ut essent vera quæ facillima erant, +universum prope humanum genus circumegit in se, non alio modo quam si +cœlo emissus advenisset</i>. When every one saw, that he could apply the +rules for himself, all agreeing that things, which were so very simple, +must certainly be true, he gathered all mankind around him, precisely as +though he had been one, sent from Heaven.</p> + +<p>In the following passage, Pliny employs the word, <i>artificium</i>, in an +oblique sense. <i>Trahebat præterea mentes artifcio mirabili, vinum +promittendo ægris.</i> He attracted men’s minds, by the remarkable <i>artifice</i> +of allowing wine to the sick.</p> + +<p>During the temperance movement, some eminent physicians have asserted, +that wine was unnecessary, in every case—others have extended their +practice, and increased their popularity, by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> making their patients as +comfortable, as possible—<i>while they continued in the flesh</i>. A German, +who had been very intemperate, joined a total abstinence society, by the +advice of a temperance physician. In a little time the <i>tormina</i> of his +stomach became unbearable. Instead of calling his temperance physician, +who would, probably, have eased the irritation, with a little wormwood, or +opium, he sent for the popular doctor, who told him, at once, that he +wanted brandy—“How much may I take?” inquired the German. “An ounce, +during the forenoon;” replied the doctor. After he had gone, the German +said to his son, “Harman, go, get de measure pook, and zee how mooch be +won ounz.” The boy brought the book, and read aloud, eight drachms make +one ounce—the patient sprang half out of bed; and, rubbing his hands, +exclaimed—“dat ish de toctor vor me; I never took more nor voor trams in +a morning, in all my porn days—dat ish de trouble—I zee it now.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXV" id="No_CXV"></a>No. CXV.</h2> + + +<p>Miss Bungs is dead. It is well to state this fact, lest I should be +suspected of some covert allusion to the living. She firmly believed in +the XXXIX. articles, and in a fortieth—namely—that man is a +fortune-hunter, from his cradle. She often declared, that, sooner than wed +a fortune-hunter, she would die a cruel death—she would die a maid—she +did so, in the full possession of her senses, to the last.</p> + +<p>Her entire estate, consisting of sundry shares, in fancy stocks, two +parrots, a monkey, a silver snuff-box, and her paraphernalia, she directed +to be sold; and the avails employed, for the promotion of celibacy, among +the heathen.</p> + +<p>Yet it was the opinion of those, who knew her intimately, that Miss Bungs +was, at heart, sufficiently disposed to enter into the holy state of +matrimony, could she have found one pure, disinterested spirit; but, +unfortunately, she was fully persuaded, that every man, who smiled upon +her, and inquired after her health, was “<i>after her money</i>.” Miss Bungs +was not unwilling to encourage the impression, that she was an object of +particular regard, in certain quarters; and, if a gentleman picked up her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> +glove, or escorted her across a gutter, she was in the habit of +instituting particular inquiries, among her acquaintances—in strict +confidence of course—in regard to his moral character—ejaculating with a +sigh, that men were so mercenary now-a-days, it was difficult to know who +could be trusted.</p> + +<p>Now, this was very wrong, in Miss Bungs. By the English law, if a man or a +woman pretends, falsely, that he or she is married to any person, that +person may libel, in the spiritual court, and obtain an injunction of +silence; and this offence, in the language of the law, is called +<i>jactitation of marriage</i>. I can see no reason why an injunction in cases +of <i>jactitation of courtship</i>, should not be allowed; for serious evils +may frequently arise, from such unauthorized pretences.</p> + +<p>After grave reflection, I am of opinion, that Miss Bungs carried her +opposition to fortune-hunters, beyond the bounds of reason. Let us define +our terms. The party, who marries, only for money, intending, from the +very commencement, to make use of it, for the selfish gratification of +vain, or vicious, propensities—is a fortune-hunter of the very worst +kind. But let us not forget, as we go along, that this field is occupied +by huntresses, as well as by hunters; and that, upon such voyages of +discovery, the cap may be set, as effectually, as the compass.</p> + +<p>There is another class, with whom the degree of personal attachment, which +really exists, is too feeble, to resist the combined influence of +selfishness and pride. Such also, I suppose, may be placed in the category +of fortune-hunters. We find an illustration of this, in the case of Mr. +Mewins. After a liberal arrangement had been made, for the young lady, by +her father; Mr. Mewins, having taken a particular fancy to a little, brown +mare, demanded, that it should be thrown into the bargain; and, upon a +positive refusal, the match was broken off. After a couple of years, the +parties accidentally met, at a country ball—Mr. Mewins was quite willing +to renew the engagement—the lady appeared not to have the slightest +recollection of him. “Surely you have not forgotten me,” said he—“What +name, sir?” she inquired—“Mewins,” he replied; “I had the honor of paying +my addresses to you, about two years ago.”—“I remember a person of that +name,” she rejoined, “who paid his addresses to my father’s brown mare.”</p> + +<p>In matrimony, wealth is, of course, a very comforting accessory. It +renders an agreeable partner still more so—and it often<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span> goes, not a +little way, to balance an unequal bargain. Time and talent may as wisely +be wasted, in pursuit of the philosopher’s stone, as of an unmixed good or +evil, on this side the grave. Temper may be mistaken, or it may change; +beauty may fade; but £60,000, well managed, will enable the <i>happy man or +woman</i>, to bear up, with tolerable complacency, under the severest trials +of domestic life. What a blessed thing it is, to fall back upon, when one +is compelled to mourn, over the infirmities of the living, or the absence, +of the dead! What a solace!</p> + +<p>It was therefore wrong, in Miss Bungs, to designate, as fortune-hunters, +those, of either sex, who have come to the rational conclusion, that money +is essential to the happiness of married life. No man or woman of common +sense, who is poor, will, now-a-days, commit the indiscretion of <i>falling +in love</i>, unless with some person of ample possessions.</p> + +<p>What, then, is to become of the penniless, and the unpretty! We must adopt +the custom of the ancient Babylonians, introduced about 1433 B. C., by +Atossa, the daughter of Belochus. At a certain season of the year, the +most lovely damsels were assembled, and put up, singly, at auction, to be +purchased, by the <i>highest</i> bidder. The wealthy swains of Babylon poured +forth their wealth, like water; and rivals settled the question, not by +the length of their rapiers, but of their purses. The money, thus +obtained, became the dowry of those, whose personal attractions were not +likely to obtain them husbands. They also were put up, and sold to the +<i>lowest</i> bidder, as the poor were formerly disposed of, in our villages. +Every unattractive maiden, young, old, and of no particular age, was put +up, at a <i>maximum</i>, and bestowed on him, who would take her, with the +smallest amount of dowry. It is quite possible, that certain lots may have +been withdrawn.</p> + +<p>I rather prefer this practice to that of the Spartans, which prevailed, +about 884 B. C. At an appointed time, the marriageable damsels were +collected, in a hall, perfectly dark; and the young men were sent into the +apartment; walking, evidently, neither by faith nor by sight, but, +literally, feeling their way, and thus selected their helpmates. This is +in perfect keeping with the principle, that love is blind.</p> + +<p>The ancient Greeks lived, and multiplied, without marriage. Eusebius, in +the preface to his Chronicon, states, that marriage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span> ceremonies were first +introduced among them, by Cecrops, about 1554 B. C. The Athenians provided +by law, that no unmarried man should be entrusted with public affairs, and +the Lacedemomans passed severe laws against those, who unreasonably +deferred their marriage. It is not easy to reconcile the general policy of +promoting marriages, with the statute, 8 William III., 1695, by which they +were taxed; as they were again, in 1784.</p> + +<p>The earliest celebration of marriages, in churches, was ordained by Pope +Innocent III., A. D. 1199. Marriages were forbidden in Lent, A. D. 364, +conforming, perhaps, to the rule of abstinence from flesh.</p> + +<p>Fortune-hunting has not always been unaccompanied with violence. Stealing +an heiress was made felony, by 3 Henry VII. 1487, and benefit of clergy +denied, in such cases, by 39 Eliz. 1596. In the first year of George IV. +1820, this offence was made punishable by transportation. In the reign of +William III., Captain Campbell forcibly married Miss Wharton, an heiress. +The marriage was annulled, by act of Parliament, and Sir John Johnston was +hanged, for abetting. In 1827, two brothers and a sister, Edward, William, +and Frances Wakefield, were tried and convicted, for the felonious +abduction of Miss Turner, an heiress, whose marriage with Edward Wakefield +was annulled, by act of Parliament.</p> + +<p>No species of fortune-hunter appears so entirely contemptible, as the +wretch, who marries for money, intending to employ it, not for the joint +comfort of the parties, but for the payment of his own arrearages; and who +resorts to the expedient of marriage, not to obtain a wife, but to avoid a +jail. And the exultation is pretty universal, when such a vagabond falls, +himself, into the snare, which he had so deliberately prepared, for +another.</p> + +<p>In the fifth volume of the Diary of Samuel Pepys, pages 323, 329 and 330, +Lord Braybrooke has recorded three letters to Pepys, from an extraordinary +scoundrel of this description. The first letter from this man, Sir Samuel +Morland, who seems to have had some employment in the navy, bears date +“Saturday, 19 February, 1686-7.” After communicating certain information, +respecting naval affairs, he proceeds, as follows:—</p> + +<p>“I would have wayted on you with this account myself, but I presume you +have, ere this time, heard what an unfortunate and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> fatall accident has +lately befallen me, of which I shall give you an abreviat.”</p> + +<p>“About three weeks or a month since, being in very great perplexities, and +almost distracted for want of moneys, my private creditors tormenting me +from morning to night, and some of them threatening me with a prison, and +having no positive answer from his Majesty, about the £1300 which the late +Lord Treasurer cutt off from my pension so severely, which left a debt +upon me, which I was utterly unable to pay, there came a certain person to +me, whom I had relieved in a starving condition, and for whom I had done a +thousand kindnesses; who pretended, in gratitude to help me to a wife, who +was a very vertuous, pious, and sweet disposition’d lady, and an heiress, +who had £500 per ann. in land and inheritance, and £4000 in ready money, +with the interest since nine years, besides a mortgage upon £300 per ann. +more, with plate, jewels, &c. The devil himself could not contrive more +probable circumstances than were layd before me; and when I had often a +mind to enquire into the truth, I had no power, believing for certain +reasons, that there were certain charms or witchcraft used upon me; and, +withall, believing it utterly impossible that a person so obliged should +ever be guilty of so black a deed as to betray me in so barbarous a +manner. Besides that, I really believ’d it a blessing from Heaven for my +charity to that person: and I was, about a fortnight since, led as a fool +to the stocks, and married a coachman’s daughter not worth a shilling, and +one who, about nine months since, was brought to bed of a bastard; and +thus I am both absolutely ruined, in my fortune and reputation, and must +become a derision to all the world.”</p> + +<p>“My case is at present in the Spiritual Court, and I presume, that one +word from his Majesty to his Proctor, and Advocate, and Judge, would +procure me speedy justice; if either our old acquaintance or Christian +pity move you, I beg you to put in a kind word for me, and to deliver the +enclosed into the King’s own hands, with all convenient speed; for a +criminal bound and going to execution is not in greater agonies than has +been my poor, active soul since this befell me: and I earnestly beg you to +leave in three lines for me with your porter, what answer the King gives +you, and my man shall call for it. A flood of tears blind my eyes, and I +can write no more, but that I am your most humble and poor distressed +servant,</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;"><span class="smcap">S. Morland</span>.”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span>All that befell Sir Samuel and <i>Lady</i> Morland, after his application to +Pepys and the King, will be found fully set forth, by this prince of +fortune-hunters, in the two remaining letters to which I have referred, +and which I purpose to lay before the reader in the ensuing number.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXVI" id="No_CXVI"></a>No. CXVI.</h2> + + +<p>The reader will remember, that we left Sir Samuel Morland, in deep +distress, his eyes, to use his own words, in the letter to Pepys, <i>blinded +by a flood of tears</i>. Of all fortune-hunters he was the most unfortunate, +who have recorded, with their own hands, the history of their own most +wretched adventures. Instead of marrying a “<i>vertuous, pious, and sweet +disposition’d lady, with £500 per ann. in land, and £4000 in ready money, +with plate, jewels, &c.</i>,” he found himself in silken bonds, with a +coachman’s daughter, “not worth a shilling,” who, nine months before, had +been introduced to a new code of sensations, by giving birth to a child, +whose father was of that problematical species, which the law terms +<i>putative</i>.</p> + +<p>I have promised to lay before the reader two additional letters, from Sir +Samuel Morland, to Pepys, on the subject of his difficulties with Lady +Morland. Here they are: the first will be found, in Pepys’ Diary, vol. v. +page 329.</p> + +<p>“17 May, 1688. Sir: Being of late unable to go abroad, by reason of my +lame hip”—no wonder he was hipped—“which gives me great pain, besides +that it would not be safe for me, at present, because of that +strumpet’s”—<i>Lady Morland’s</i>—“debts, I take the boldness to entreat you, +that, according to your wonted favors, of the same kind, you will be +pleased, at the next opportunity, to give the King this following +account.”</p> + +<p>“A little before Christmas last, being informed, that she was willing, for +a sum of money, to confess in open court a precontract with Mr. Cheek, and +being at the same time assured, both by hir and my own lawyers, that such +a confession would be sufficient for a sentence of nullity, I did deposit +the money, and accordingly a day of tryall was appoynted; but after the +cause had been pleaded, I was privately assured, that the Judge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span> was not +at all satisfyd with such a confession of hers, as to be sufficient ground +for him to null the marriage, and so that design came to nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Then I was advised to treat with her, and give her a present sum and a +future maintenance, she giving me sufficient security never to trouble mee +more; but her demands were so high, I could not consent to them.”</p> + +<p>“After this she sent me a very submissive letter, by her own advocate. I +was advised, both by several private friends, and some eminent divines, to +take her home, and a day of treaty was appoynted for an accommodation.”</p> + +<p>“In the interim, a certain gentleman came on purpose, to my house, to +assure me that I was taking a snake into my bosome, forasmuch as she had +for six months last past, to his certain knowledge, been kept by, and +cohabited with Sir Gilb. Gerrard, as his wife, &c. Upon which making +further enquiry, that gentleman furnishing me with some witnesses, and I +having found out others, I am this term endeavoring to prove adultery +against her, and so to obteyn a divorce, which is the present condition of +your most humble and faithful servant,</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;"><span class="smcap">Samuel Morland</span>.”</span></p> + +<p>It was fortunate, that Sir Samuel, whose <i>naïveté</i> and rascality are most +amusingly mingled, did not take the “<i>snake into his bosome</i>,” +notwithstanding the advice of those “<i>eminent divines</i>,” whose counsel is +almost ever too celestial, for the practical occasions of the present +world.</p> + +<p>The issue of Sir Samuel’s fatal plunge into the abyss of matrimony, in +pursuit of “£500 per annum in land and £4000 in ready money,” and of all +that befell the Lady Morland, until she lost her title, is recorded, in +the third and last letter to Pepys, in vol. v., page 330.</p> + +<p>“19 July, 1688. Sir: I once more begg you to give yourself the trouble of +acquainting His Majesty that upon Munday last, after many hott disputes +between the Doctors of the Civil Law, the sentence of divorce was solemnly +pronounced in open Court against that strumpet”—<i>Lady Morland</i>—“for +living in adultery with Sir Gilbert Gerrard, for six months last past; so +that now, unless shee appeal, for which the law allows her 15 days, I am +freed from her for life, and all that I have to do, for the future, will +bee to gett clear of her debts, which she has contracted from the day of +marriage to the time of sentence, which is like to give me no small +trouble, besides the charge, for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span>severall months in the Chancery. And +till I gett cleared of these debts, I shall bee little better than a +prisoner in my own house. Sir, believing it my duty to give His Majesty +this account of myselfe and of my proceedings, and having no other friend +to do it for mee, I hope you will forgive the trouble thus given you, by, +yours, &c.,</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;"><span class="smcap">S. Morland</span>.”</span></p> + +<p>This must have interested His Majesty, very deeply. Poor James had then +enough of care. If he had possessed the hands of Briareus, they would have +been full already. In less than four months, after the date of this +letter, William of Orange had landed at Torbay, Nov. 5, 1688, and the last +days of the last of the Stuarts were at hand.</p> + +<p>If Miss Bungs were living, even that inexorable hater of all +fortune-hunters would admit, that the punishment of Sir Samuel Morland was +sufficient for his crimes. Few will pretend, that his sufferings were more +than he deserved. A more exact retribution cannot well be imagined. It was +his intention to apply “<i>£4000 ready money</i>,” belonging to “<i>a very +vertuous, pious, and sweet disposition’d lady</i>,” to the payment of his +pre-contracted debts. Instead of effecting this honorable purpose, he +becomes the husband of a low-born strumpet, who is not worth a shilling, +and for whose debts, contracted before, as well as after marriage, he is +liable; for the law decrees, that a man takes his wife and her +circumstances together.</p> + +<p>There are few individuals, of either sex, however constitutionally grave, +who have not a little merriment to spare, for such happy contingencies as +these. Retributive justice seldom descends, more gracefully, or more +deservedly, or more to universal acceptance, upon the crafty heads of +unprincipled projectors. For all, that may befall him, the fortune-hunter +has little to expect, from male or female sympathy. The scolding +tongue—those bewitching tresses, nocturnally deposited on the +bedpost—those teeth of pearly brilliancy, which Keep or Tucker could so +readily identify—the perpetual look of distrust—the espionage of +jealousy—these and all other <i>tormina domestica</i> are the allotments of +the fortune-hunter, by immemorial prescription, and without the slightest +sympathy, from man or woman.</p> + +<p>The case of Sir Samuel Morland is a valuable precedent, on account of his +station in society, and the auto-biographical character of the narrative. +But there are very few of us, who have not the record of some similar +catastrophe, within the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span> compass of our knowledge, though, probably, of a +less aggravated type.</p> + +<p>There is a pleasant legend, in the humbler relations of life, to which I +have listened, in earlier days, and which illustrates the principle, +involved in these remarks. Molly Moodey was an excellent cook, in the +family of an avaricious old widower, whose god was mammon, and who had +been deterred, by the expensiveness of the proceeding, from taking a +second goddess.</p> + +<p>The only sentiment, in any way resembling the tender passion, which had +ever been awakened, in the bosom of Molly Moodey, was a passion for +lotteries.</p> + +<p>She gave such of her waking hours, as were not devoted to roasting and +boiling, to the calculation of chances, and her sleeping hours to the +dreaming of dreams, about £20,000: and by certain combinations, she had +come to the conclusion, that No. 26,666 was the fortunate number, in the +great scheme, then presented to the public.</p> + +<p>Molly avowed her purpose, and demanded her wages, which, after severely +berating her, for her folly, were handed over, and the identical ticket +was bought. With the hope of being the first to inform her, after the +drawing, that her ticket was a blank, her old master noted down the +number, in his tablets.</p> + +<p>In about seven weeks after this occurrence, the old gentleman, while +reading the newspaper, in one of the public offices, came upon the +following notice—“<span class="smcap">Highest prize!</span> £20,000. No. 26,666 the fortunate +number, sold at our fortunate office, in one entire ticket, <span class="smcap">Skinner, +Ketchum, & Clutch</span>, and will be paid to the lucky proprietor, after the +27th current.”</p> + +<p>The old gentleman took out his tablets; compared the numbers; wiped his +spectacles; collated the numbers again; resorted to the lottery office; +and, upon inquiry there, became satisfied, that Molly Moodey had actually +drawn £20,000.</p> + +<p>A new code of sensations came over the spirit of his dreams. He hastened +home, oppressed by the heat and his emotions. He bade Molly lay aside her +mop, and attend him in the parlor, as he had something of importance to +communicate.—“Molly,” said he, after closing the doors—“I find a partner +absolutely necessary to my happiness. Let me be brief. I am not the man to +make a fool of myself, by marrying a young flirt. I have known you, Molly, +for many years. You have what I prize above all things in a wife, solid, +substantial qualifications. Will you have me?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span>Taken thus by surprise, she gave a striking evidence of her +self-possession, by requesting leave of absence, for a moment, to remove a +kettle of fat, which she was trying out, lest it should boil over. She +soon came back, and turned her eye—she had but one—with great respect, +upon her old master—said something of the difference of their +stations—and consented.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman’s attachment for Molly appeared to be very +extraordinary. Until the wedding-day, which was an unusually early one, he +would not suffer her to be out of his sight. The day came—they were +married. On their way from church—“Molly,” said the bridegroom, +“whereabouts is your ticket, with that fortunate number?”—“Oh,” she +replied, “when I came to think of it, I saw, that you were right. I +thought, ’twas quite likely it would draw a blank. Crust, the baker, +offered me what I gave for it, and a sheet of bunns, to boot, and I let +him have it, three weeks ago.”—“Good God,” exclaimed the poor old +gentleman—“£20,000 for a sheet of bunns!”</p> + +<p>The shock was too much for his reason; and, in less than six weeks, Molly +was a widow. She attended him, with great fidelity, to the last moment; +and his dying words were engraven upon her heart—“<i>Twenty thousand pounds +for a sheet of bunns!</i>”</p> + +<p>How true to reality are the gay words of Tom Moore—</p> + +<p class="poem">“In wedlock a species of lottery lies,<br /> +Where in blanks and in prizes we deal.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXVII" id="No_CXVII"></a>No. CXVII.</h2> + + +<p>The Archbishop of Cambray, the amiable Fenelon, has remarked, that God +shows us the high value he sets upon time, by giving us, in absolute +possession, one instant only, leaving us, in utter uncertainty, if we +shall ever have another. And yet, so little are we disturbed, by this +truly momentous consideration, that, long before the breath is fairly out +of the old year’s body, we are found busily occupied, in gathering +chaplets, for the brows of the new one.</p> + +<p>The early Christians were opposed to New Year’s Gifts, as fixedly, as some +of the latter Christians are opposed to the song<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span> and the dance. But I am +inclined to believe the rising generation will take steps, very like their +fathers—that light fantastic tongues and toes, will continue to wag, to +all eternity—and that the unmusical and rheumatic will deplore over such +heterodox and ungodly proceedings, till the world shall be no more.</p> + +<p>The New Year’s gifts of the Romans were, originally, exceedingly simple. +Sprigs of vervain, gathered in a wood, consecrated to Strenia, the goddess +of Strength, somehow or other, came into favor, and were accounted of good +omen. A custom arose of sending these sprigs about the neighborhood, as +tokens of friendship, on New Year’s day; and these trifling remembrancers +obtained the name of <i>Strenæ</i>. These sprigs of vervain, ere long, wore out +their welcome; and were followed, in after years, by presents of dates, +figs and honey. Clients thus complimented their patrons; and, before many +anniversaries, the coin of Rome began to mingle with the donative, +whatever it might be; and, very soon, the advantage of the receiver came +less to be consulted, than the reputation of him, who gave.</p> + +<p>When I contemplate those ample storehouses of all, that is gorgeous and +glittering—those receptacles of useless finery, which nobody actually +wants—and, at the same time, reflect upon all that I know, and much that +I conjecture, of the necessities and distresses of mankind, I am not +certain, that it may not be wise to resume the earlier custom of the +Romans, and embody, in certain cases, our annual tokens of friendship and +good will, in such useful materials, as <i>figs, dates and honey</i>.</p> + +<p>Are there not individuals, who, upon the reception of some gaudy and +expensive bagatelle, are ready to exclaim, with the cock in Æsop—“<i>I had +rather have one grain of dear, delicious, barley, than all the jewels +under the sun!</i>”</p> + +<p>I am not so utopian, as to anticipate any immediate or very extensive +reformation, in this practice, which, excellent as it is, when restrained +within reasonable bounds, is, unquestionably, under certain circumstances, +productive of evil. It is not to be expected, that expensive <i>bijoux</i>, for +new year’s gifts, will speedily give place to <i>sugar and molasses</i>. But +there are cases, not a few, when, upon a new year’s day, the wealthy +giver, without paining the recipient, may convert the annual compliment, +into something better than a worthless toy—a fantastical token of +ostentatious remembrance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span>The Christian world has settled down, at last, upon the first of January, +as New Year’s day. It was not always thus; and, even now, no little +difficulty occurs, in our attempts to refer historical events to +particular years. We can do no better, perhaps, than to devote this number +to a brief exposition of this difficulty.</p> + +<p>Every schoolboy knows, that Romulus divided the year into ten months. The +first was March, and, from March to December, they have retained their +original names, for some six and twenty centuries, excepting the fifth and +sixth month, which, from <i>Quintilis</i> and <i>Sextilis</i>, have been changed, in +honor of <i>Julius</i> and <i>Augustus</i>.</p> + +<p>Numa added two months, <i>Januarius</i> and <i>Februarius</i>. Numa’s year consisted +therefore of twelve months, according to the moon’s course. But Numa’s +lunar year did not agree with the course of the sun, and he therefore +introduced, every other year, an <i>intercalary</i> month, between the 23d and +24th of February. The length of this month was decided by the priests, who +lengthened or shortened the year, to suit their convenience. Cicero, in a +letter to Atticus, x. 17, writes, in strong disfavor, of Numa’s calendar.</p> + +<p>Julius Cæsar, with the aid of Sosigenes of Alexandria, adjusted this +astronomical account. To bring matters into order, Suetonius, in his life +of Julius Cæsar, 40, says, they were constrained to make one final year of +fifteen months, to close the confusion.</p> + +<p>Hence arose the Julian or Solar year, the year of the Christian world. The +“<i>alteration of the style</i>” is only an amendment of the Julian calendar, +in one particular, by Pope Gregory, in 1582. In 325, A. D., the vernal +equinox occurred March 21, and in 1582 it occurred March 10. He called the +astronomers to council, and, by their advice, obliterated ten days from +the current year, between October 4, and 15.</p> + +<p>These ten days make the difference, from 1582 to February 29, 1700. From +March 1, 1700, to February 29, 1800, eleven days were required, and from +March 1, 1800, to February 29, 1900, twelve days. In all Roman Catholic +countries, this alteration of the style was instantly adopted; but not in +Great Britain, till 1752. The Greeks and Russians have never adopted the +Gregorian alteration of the style.</p> + +<p>The commencement of the year has been assigned to very different periods. +In some of the Italian states, as recently as 1745, the year has been +taken to commence, at the Annunciation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span> March 25. Writers of the sixth +century have, occasionally, like the Romans, considered March 1 as New +Year’s day. Charles IX. by a special edict, in 1563, decreed, that the +year should be considered to commence, on the first of January. In +Germany, about the eleventh century, the year commenced at Christmas. Such +was the practice, in modern Rome, and other Italian cities, as late as the +fifteenth century.</p> + +<p>Gervais of Canterbury, who lived early in the thirteenth century, states, +that all writers of his country considered Christmas the true beginning of +the year. In Great Britain, from the twelfth century, till the alteration +of the style in 1752, the Annunciation, or March 25, was commonly +considered the first day of the year. After this, the year was taken to +commence, on the first of January.</p> + +<p>The Chaldæan and Egyptian years commenced with the Autumnal equinox. The +Japanese and the Chinese date their year from the new moon, nearest the +Winter solstice.</p> + +<p>As Diemschid, king of Persia, entered Persepolis, the sun happened to be +entering into Aries. In commemoration of this coincidence, he decreed, +that the year should change front, and commence, forever more, in the +Vernal, instead of the Autumnal equinox. The Swedish year, of old, began, +most happily, at the Winter solstice, or at the time of the sun’s +reäppearance in the horizon, after the usual <i>quarantine</i>, or absence of +forty days. The Turks and Arabs date the advent of their year, upon the +sixteenth of July.</p> + +<p>In our own country, the year, in former times, commenced in March. In the +Mass. Hist. Coll., vol. xvii. p. 136, may be found certain votes, passed +in Boston, Nov. 30, 1635, among which is the following—“<i>that all such as +have allotments for habitations allotted unto them, shall build thereon, +before the first of the first month next, called March</i>.” In Johnson’s +Wonder-working Providence, ch. 27, the writer says of the Boston pilgrims, +in 1633: “Thus this poor people, having now tasted liberally of the +salvation of the Lord, &c. &c., set apart the 16 day of October, which +they call the <i>eighth Moneth</i>, not out of any pevish humor of singularity, +as some are ready to censor them with, but of purpose to prevent the +Heathenish and Popish observation of Dayes, Moneths, and Yeares, that they +may be forgotten, among the people of the Lord.” If October was their +<i>eighth</i> month, March was necessarily their <i>first</i>. Whatever the +practice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span> may have been, in this respect, it was by no means universal, in +New England, during a considerable period, before the alteration of the +style in 1752.</p> + +<p>A reference to the record will show, that, until 1752, the old style was +adhered to, by the courts, in this country, and the 25th of March was +considered to be New Year’s day. But it was not so with the public +journals. Thus the Boston News Letter, the Boston Gazette, the New England +Courant and other journals, existing here, before the adoption of the new +style, in Great Britain, in 1752, considered the year, as commencing on +the first of January.</p> + +<p>Private individuals very frequently did the same thing. At this moment, a +letter from Peter Faneuil is lying at my elbow, addressed to Messrs. Lane +and Smethurst of London, bearing date January 1, 1739, at the close of +which he wishes his correspondents <i>a happy new year</i>, showing, that the +first of January, for ordinary purposes, and in common parlance, was +accounted New Year’s day.</p> + +<p>The little people, of both sexes, would, doubtless, have voted for the +adoption of the old style and of the new; in other words, for having two +new year’s days, in every year. They would have been as much delighted +with the conceit, as was Rousseau, with the pleasant fancy of St. Pierre, +who wrote, from the Isle of France, to a friend in Paris, that he had +enjoyed two summers in one year; the perusal of which letter induced +Rousseau, to seek the acquaintance of the author of Paul and Virginia.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXVIII" id="No_CXVIII"></a>No. CXVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Dion remarks, while speaking of Trajan—<i>he that lies in a golden urn, +eminently above the earth, is not likely to rest in peace</i>. The same thing +may be affirmed of him, who has raised himself, eminently above his peers, +wherever he may lie. During the Roman Catholic rage for relics, the graves +were ransacked, and numberless sinners, to supply the demand, were dug up +for saints. Sooner or later, the finger of curiosity, under some plausible +pretext, will lift the coffin lid; or the foot of political sacrilege will +trample upon the ashes of him, whom a former<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span> generation had delighted to +honor; or the motiveless spirit of mischief will violate the sanctity of +the tomb.</p> + +<p>When Charles I. was buried, in the same vault with Henry VIII. and Anne +Boleyn, a soldier, as Wood relates, in his Athenæ Oxonienses, vol. iv. p. +39, Lond. 1820, attempted to steal a royal bone, which was afterwards +found upon his person, and, which he said, upon examination, he had +designed, for a handle to his knife.</p> + +<p>John Milton died, according to the respective accounts of Mitford, +Johnson, and Hayley, on the 8th—about the 10th—or on the 15th of +November, 1674. He was buried, in the chancel of St. Giles, Cripplegate. +In the London Monthly Magazine, for August, 1833, there appeared an +extract from the diary of General Murray, giving a particular account of +the desecration of Milton’s remains. The account was given to General +Murray, at a dinner party, Aug. 23, 1790, by Mr. Thornton, who received +it, from an eye-witness of the transaction. The church of St. Giles +requiring repairs, the occasion was thought a proper one, to place a +monument, over the body of Milton. Messieurs Strong, Cole, and others, of +that parish, sought for, and discovered, the leaden coffin, the outer +coffin of wood having mouldered away. Having settled the question of +identity, these persons replaced the coffin, and ordered the workmen to +fill up the grave. The execution of this order was postponed, for several +days. In the interim, some of the parish, whose names are given, by +General Murray, having dined together, and become partially drunk, +resolved to examine the body; and proceeded, with lights, to the church. +With a mallet and chisel, they cut open the coffin, rolled back the lead, +and gazed upon the bones of John Milton! General Murray’s diary shall +relate the residue of a proceeding, which might call the rouge to the +cheeks of a Vandal:—</p> + +<p>“The hair was in an astonishingly perfect state; its color a light brown, +its length six inches and a half, and, although somewhat clotted, it +appeared, after having been well washed, as strong as the hair of a living +being. Fountain said he was determined to have two of his teeth; but as +they resisted the pressure of his fingers, he struck the jaw, with a +paving stone, and several teeth then fell out. There were only five in the +upper jaw, and these were taken by Fountain; the four, that were in the +lower jaw, were seized upon, by Taylor, Hawkesworth, and the sexton’s man. +The hair, which had been carefully combed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span> and tied together, before the +interment, was forcibly pulled off the skull, by Taylor and another; but +Ellis, the player, who had now joined the party, told the former, that +being a good hair-worker, if he would let him have it, he would pay a +guinea-bowl of punch. Ellis, therefore, became possessed of all the hair: +he likewise took a part of the shroud, and a bit of the skin of the skull: +indeed, he was only prevented from carrying off the head, by the sextons, +Hoppy and Grant, who said, that they intended to exhibit the remains, +which was afterwards done, each person paying sixpence to view the body. +These fellows, I am told, gained near one hundred pounds, by the +exhibition. Laming put one of the leg-bones in his pocket.”</p> + +<p>After reading this short, shameless record, one half inclines to +cremation; even if, instead of being enshrined or inurned, our dust be +given, in fee simple, to the winds. How forcibly the words of Sir Thomas +ring in our ears—“<i>To be gnawed out of our graves, to have our skulls +made drinking bowls, and our bones turned into pipes, to delight and sport +our enemies, are tragical abominations, escaped in burning burials</i>.” The +account from General Murray’s diary, and at greater length, may be found +also, in the appendix to Mitford’s life of Milton, in the octavo edition +of his poetical works, Cambridge, Mass., 1839.</p> + +<p>Great indignation has lately been excited, in England, against a vampyre +of a fellow, named Blore, who is said to have destroyed one half of +Dryden’s monument, and defaced Ben Jonson’s, and Cowley’s, in Westminster +Abbey. Inquiring after motive, in such cases, is much like raking the +ashes, after a conflagration, to find the originating spark. There is a +motive, doubtless, in some by-corner of the brain; whether a man burns the +temple, at Ephesus; or spears the elephant of Judas Maccabæus, with +certain death to himself; or destroys the Barberrini vase. The motive was +avowed, on the trial, in a similar case, by a young man, who, some years +ago, shot a menagerie elephant, while passing through a village, in the +State of Maine, to be a wish “<i>to see how a fellow would feel, who killed +an elephant</i>.”</p> + +<p>Dryden’s, and Cowley’s monuments are on the left of Ben Jonson’s, and +before you, as you approach the Poet’s Corner. Dryden’s monument is a +lofty affair, with an arch and a bust, and is thus inscribed: “J. Dryden, +born 1632, died May 1,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span> 1700.—John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, erected +this monument, 1720.” It is not commonly known, that the original bust was +changed, by the Duchess, for one of very superior workmanship, which, of +course, is the one mutilated by Blore. The monument, erected by George, +Duke of Buckingham, to Cowley, is a pedestal, bearing an urn, decorated +with laurel, and with a pompous and unmeaning epitaph, in Latin +hexameters. If Blore understood the language, perhaps he considered these +words, upon the tablet, a challenge—</p> + +<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">————Quis temerarius ausit—</span><br /> +Sacrilega turbare manu venerabile bustum.</p> + +<p>The monument of Ben Jonson is an elegant tablet, with a festoon of masks, +and the inscription—<i>Oh rare Ben Jonson!</i> It stands before you, when +Dryden’s and Cowley’s are upon your left, and is next to that of Samuel +Butler. In the north aisle of the nave, there is a stone, about eighteen +inches square, bearing the same inscription. In the “History of +Westminster Abbey,” 4to ed Lond. 1812, vol. ii. p. 95, note, it is stated, +that “Dart says one Young, afterwards a Knight in the time of Charles II., +of Great Milton, in Oxfordshire, placed a stone over the grave of Ben +Jonson, which cost eighteen pence, with the above inscription:” but it is +not stated, that the stone, now there, is the same.</p> + +<p>Dr. Johnson, in his Life of Dryden, recites what he terms “<i>a wild story, +relating to some vexatious events, that happened, at his funeral</i>.” +Dryden’s widow, and his son, Charles, had accepted the offer of Lord +Halifax, to pay the expenses of the funeral, and five hundred pounds, for +a monument. The company came—the corpse was placed in a velvet +hearse—eighteen coaches were in attendance, filled with mourners.—As +they were about to move, the young Lord Jeffries, son of the Chancellor, +with a band of rakes, coming by, and learning that the funeral was +Dryden’s, said the ornament of the nation should not so be buried, and +proceeded, accompanied by his associates, in a body, to wait upon the +widow, and beg her to permit him to bear the expense of the interment, and +to pay one thousand pounds, for a monument, in the Abbey.</p> + +<p>The gentlemen in the coaches, being ignorant of the liberal offers of the +Dean and Lord Halifax, readily descended from their carriages, and +attended Lord Jeffries and his party to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span> bedside of the lady, who was +sick, where he repeated his offers; and, upon her positive refusal, got +upon his knees, as did the whole party; and he there swore that he would +not rise, till his entreaty was granted. At length, affecting to +understand some word of the lady’s, as giving permission, he rushed out, +followed by the rest, proclaiming her consent, and ordered the corpse to +be left at Russell’s, an undertaker’s, in Cheapside, till he gave orders +for its embalmment. During this proceeding, the Abbey having been lighted +up, Lord Halifax and the Dean, who was also Bishop of Rochester, to use +the tea-table phrase, waited and waited, and waited. The ground was +opened, the choir attending, and an anthem set. When Mr. Dryden went, next +day, to offer excuses, neither Lord Halifax, nor the Dean, would accept of +any apology. After waiting three days for orders, the undertaker called on +Lord Jeffries, who said he knew nothing about it, and that it was only a +tipsy frolic, and that the undertaker might do what he pleased with the +corpse. The undertaker threatened to set the corpse before the widow’s +door. She begged a day’s respite. Mr. Charles Dryden wrote to Lord +Jeffries, who replied, that he knew nothing about it. He then addressed +the Dean and Lord Halifax, who refused to have anything to do with it. He +then challenged Lord Jeffries, who refused to fight. He went himself, and +was refused admittance. He then resolved to horsewhip his Lordship; upon +notice of which design, the latter left town. In the midst of this misery, +Dr. Garth sent for the body, to be brought to the college of physicians; +proposed a subscription; and set a noble example. The body was finally +buried, about three weeks after the decease, and Dr. Garth pronounced a +fine Latin oration. At the close of the narrative, which, as repeated by +Dr. Johnson, covers more than three octavo pages of Murphy’s edition, the +Doctor remarks, that he once intended to omit it entirely, and that he had +met with no confirmation, but in a letter of Farquhar’s.</p> + +<p>The tale is simply alluded to, by Gorton, and told, at some length, by +Chalmers. Both, however, consider it a fabrication, by Mrs. Thomas, the +authoress, whom Dryden styled <i>Corinna</i>, and whom Pope lampooned, in his +comatose and vicious performance, the Dunciad, probably because she +provoked his wrath, by publishing his letters to H. Cromwell.</p> + +<p>In the earlier editions of the Encyclopædia Britannica, the tale is told, +as sober matter of fact: in the last, Napier’s, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> 1842, it is wholly +omitted. Malone, in his Life of Dryden, page 347, ascribes the whole to +Mrs. Thomas.</p> + +<p>Dryden died, in 1700. The first four volumes of Johnson’s Lives of the +Poets, containing Dryden’s, went to the press in 1779. Considering the +nature of this outrage; the eminence, not only of the dead, but of some of +the living, whose names are involved; its alleged publicity; and its +occurrence in the very city, where all the parties flourished; it is +remarkable, that this “<i>wild story</i>,” as Johnson fitly calls it, should +have obtained any credit, and survived for nine-and-seventy years.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXIX" id="No_CXIX"></a>No. CXIX.</h2> + + +<p>Deeply to be commiserated are all those, who have not read, from beginning +to end, the writings of the immortal Oliver—a repast, <i>ab ovo usque ad +mala</i>, to be swallowed, and inwardly digested, while our intellectual +stomachs are young and vigorous, and to be regurgitated, and chewed over, +a thousand times, when the almond tree begins to flourish, and even the +grasshopper becomes a burden. Who does not remember his story of the +Chinese matron—the widow with the great fan!</p> + +<p>The original of this pleasant tale is not generally known. The brief +legend, related by Goldsmith, is an imperfect epitome of an interesting +story, illustrating the power of magic, among the followers of Laou-keun, +the founder of a religious sect, in China, resembling that of Epicurus.</p> + +<p>The original tale was translated from the Chinese, by Père Dentrecolles, +who was at the head of the French missionaries, in China, and died at +Pekin, in 1741. The following liberal version, from the French, which may, +perhaps, be better called a paraphrase, will not fail, I think, to +interest the reader.</p> + +<p>Wealth, and all the blessings it can procure, for man, are brief and +visionary. Honors, glory, fame are gaudy clouds, that flit by, and are +gone. The ties of blood are easily broken; affection is a dream. The most +deadly hate may occupy the heart, which held the warmest love. A yoke is +not worth wearing, though wrought of gold. Chains are burdensome, though +adorned with jewels. Let us purge our minds; calm our <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span>passions; curb our +wishes; and set not our hearts upon a vain world. Let our highest aim be +liberty—pleasure.</p> + +<p>Chuang-tsze took unto himself a wife, whose youth and beauty seduced him +from the busy world. He retired, among the delightful scenery of Soong, +his native province, and gave himself up, entirely, to the delights of +philosophy and love. A sovereign, who had become acquainted with the fame +of Chuang-tsze, for superior wisdom, invited him to become his wuzzeer, or +prime minister. Chuang-tsze declined, in the language of parable—“A +heifer,” said he, “pampered for the sacrifice, and decked with ornaments, +marched triumphantly along, looking, as she passed, with mingled pride and +contempt, upon some humble oxen, that were yoked to the plough. She +proudly entered the temple—but when she beheld the knife, and +comprehended that she was a victim, how gladly would she have exchanged +conditions with the humblest of those, upon whom she had so lately looked +down with pity and contempt.”</p> + +<p>Chuang-tsze walked by the skirts of the mountain, absorbed in thought—he +suddenly came among many tombs—the city of the dead. “Here then,” he +exclaimed, “all are upon a level—caste is unknown—the philosopher and +the fool sleep, side by side. This is eternity! From the sepulchre there +is no return!”</p> + +<p>He strolled among the tombs; and, erelong, perceived a grave, that had +been recently made. The mound of moistened clay was not yet thoroughly +dry. By the side of that grave sat a young woman, clad in the deepest +mourning. With a white fan, of large proportions, she was engaged, in +fanning the earth, which covered this newly made grave. Chuang-tsze was +amazed; and, drawing near, respectfully inquired, who was the occupant of +that grave, and why this mourning lady was so strangely employed. Tears +dropped from her eyes, as she uttered a few inaudible words, without +rising, or ceasing to fan the grave. The curiosity of Chuang-tsze was +greatly excited—he ascribed her manner, not to fear, but to some inward +sense of shame—and earnestly besought her to explain her motives, for an +act, so perfectly novel and mysterious.</p> + +<p>After a little embarrassment, she replied, as follows: “Sir, you behold a +lone woman—death has deprived me of my beloved husband—this grave +contains his precious remains. Our love was very great for each other. In +the hour of death, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span> agony, at the thought of parting from me, was +immoderate. These were his dying words—‘My beloved, should you ever think +of a second marriage, it is my dying request, that you remain a widow, at +least till my grave is thoroughly dry; then you have my permission to +marry whomsoever you will.’ And now, as the earth, which is quite damp +still, will take a long time to dry, I thought I would fan it a little, to +dissipate the moisture.”</p> + +<p>Chuang-tsze made great efforts, to suppress a strong disposition to laugh +outright, in the woman’s face. “She is in a feverish haste,” thought he. +“What a hypocrite, to talk of their mutual affection! If such be love, +what a time there would have been, had they hated each other.”</p> + +<p>“Madam,” said the philosopher, “you are desirous, that this grave should +dry, as soon as possible; but, with your feeble strength, it will require +a long time, to accomplish it; let me assist you.” She expressed her deep +sense of the obligation, and rising, with a profound courtesy, handed the +philosopher a spare fan, which she had brought with her. Chuang-tsze, who +possessed the power of magic, struck the ground with the fan repeatedly; +and it soon became perfectly dry. The widow appeared greatly surprised, +and delighted, and presented the philosopher with the fan, and a silver +bodkin, which she drew from her tresses. He accepted the fan only; and the +lady retired, highly gratified, with the speedy accomplishment of her +object.</p> + +<p>Chuang-tsze remained, for a brief space, absorbed in thought; and, at +length, returned slowly homeward, meditating, by the way, upon this +extraordinary adventure. He sat down in his apartment, and, for some time, +gazed, in silence, upon the fan. At length, he exclaimed—“Who, after +having witnessed this occurrence, can hesitate to draw the inference, that +marriage is one of the modes, by which the doctrine of the metempsychosis +is carried out. People, who have hated each other heartily, in some prior +condition of being, are made man and wife, for the purpose of mutual +vexation—that is it, undoubtedly.”</p> + +<p>The wife of the philosopher had approached him, unobserved; and, hearing +his last words, and noticing the fan, which he was still earnestly gazing +upon—“Pray, be so good, as to inform me,” said she, “what is the meaning +of all this; and where, I should like to know, did you obtain that fine +fan, which appears to interest you so much?” Chuang-tsze, very faithfully, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span>narrated to his wife the story of the young widow, and all the +circumstances, which had taken place, at the tomb.</p> + +<p>As soon as the philosopher had finished the narrative, his wife, her +countenance inflamed with the severest indignation, broke forth, with a +torrent of contemptuous expressions, and unmeasured abuse, against the +abominable, young widow. She considered her a scandal to her sex. “Aye,” +she exclaimed, “this vile widow must be a perfect monster, devoid of every +particle of feeling.”</p> + +<p>“Alas,” said the philosopher, “while the husband is in the flesh, there is +no wife, that is not ready to flatter and caress him—but no sooner is the +breath out of his body, than she seizes her fan, and forthwith proceeds to +dry up his grave.”</p> + +<p>This greatly excited the ire of his wife—“How dare you talk in this +outrageous manner,” said she, “of the whole sex? You confound the virtuous +with such vile wretches, as this unprincipled widow, who deserves to be +annihilated. Are you not ashamed of yourself, to talk in this cruel way? I +should think you might be restrained, by the dread of future punishment.”</p> + +<p>“Why give way,” said Chuang-tsze, “to all this passionate outcry? Be +candid—you are young, and extremely beautiful—should I die, this day—do +you pretend, that, with your attractions, you would suffer much time to be +lost, before you accepted the services of another husband?”</p> + +<p>“Good God,” cried the lady, “how you talk! Who ever heard of a truly +faithful wuzzeer, that, after the death of his master, served another +prince? A widow <i>indeed</i> never accepts a second partner. Did you ever know +a case, in which such a wife as I have been—a woman of my qualities and +station, after having lost her tenderly beloved, forsook his memory, and +gave herself to the embraces of a second husband! Such an act, in my +opinion, would be infamous. Should you be taken from me, today, be +assured, that I should follow you, with my imperishable love, and die, at +last, your disconsolate widow.”</p> + +<p>“It is easy to promise, but not always so easy to perform,” replied the +philosopher. At this speech, the lady was exasperated—“I would have you +to know,” said she, “that women are to be found, without much inquiry, +quite as noble-hearted and constant, as <i>you</i> have ever been. What a +pattern of constancy you have been! Dear me! Only think of it! When your +first wife died, you soon repaired your loss: and, becoming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span> weary of your +second, you obtained a divorce from her, and then married me! What a +constant creature you have been! No wonder you think so lightly of women!” +Saying this, she snatched the fan out of her husband’s hand, and tore it +into innumerable pieces; by which act she appeared to have obtained very +considerable relief; and, in a somewhat gentler tone, she told her +husband, that he was in excellent health, and likely to live, for very +many years; and that she could not, for the soul of her, see what could +induce him to torment her to death, by talking in this manner.</p> + +<p>“Compose yourself, my dear,” said Chuang-tsze, “I confess that your +indignation delights me. I rejoice to see you exhibit so much feeling and +fire, upon such a theme.” The wife of the philosopher recovered her +composure; and their conversation turned upon ordinary affairs.</p> + +<p>Before many days, Chuang-tsze became suddenly and severely attacked, by +some unaccountable disease. The symptoms</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXX" id="No_CXX"></a>No. CXX.</h2> + + +<p>Let us continue the story of Chuang-tsze, the great master of magic.</p> + +<p>Before many days, as I have stated, Chuang-tsze became suddenly and +severely attacked, by some unaccountable disease. The symptoms were full +of evil. His devoted wife was ever near her sick husband, sobbing +bitterly, and bathing him in tears. “It is but too plain,” said the +philosopher, “that I cannot survive—I am upon the bed of death—this very +night, perhaps—at farthest, tomorrow—we shall part forever—what a pity, +that you should have destroyed that fan—it would have answered so well, +for the purpose of drying the earth upon my tomb!”</p> + +<p>“For heaven’s sake,” exclaimed the weeping wife, “do not, weak and feeble +as you are, harrass yourself, with these horrible fancies. You do me great +wrong. Our books I have carefully perused. I know my duties well. You have +received my troth—it shall never be another’s. Can you doubt my +sincerity! Let me prove it, by dying first. I am ready.” “Enough,” said +the philosopher—“I now die in peace—I am satisfied of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span> your constancy. +But the world is fading away—the cold hand of death is upon me.” The head +of Chuang-tsze fell back—the breath had stopped—the pulse had ceased to +beat—he was already with the dead.</p> + +<p>If the piercing cries of a despairing, shrieking widow could have raised +the dead, Chuang-tsze would have arisen, on the spot. She sprang upon the +corpse, and held it long, in her fond embrace. She then arrayed her person +in the deepest mourning, a robe of seamless white, and made the air +resound with her cries of anguish and despair. She abjured food; abstained +from slumber; and refused to be comforted.</p> + +<p>Chuang-tsze had the wide-spread fame of an eminent sage—crowds gathered +to his obsequies. After their performance, and when the vast assemblage +had all, well nigh, departed—a youth of comely face, and elegantly +arrayed, was observed, lingering near the spot. He proclaimed himself to +be of most honorable descent, and that he had, long before, declared to +Chuang-tsze his design of becoming the pupil of that great philosopher. +“For that end,” said he, “and that alone, I have come to this place—and +behold Chuang-tsze is no more. Great is my misfortune!”</p> + +<p>This splendid youth cast off his colored garments, and assumed the robes +of lamentation—he bowed himself to the earth, before the coffin of the +defunct—four times, he touched the ground with his forehead; and, with an +utterance choked by sobs, he exclaimed—“Oh Chuang-tsze, learned and wise, +your ill-fated disciple cannot receive wisdom and knowledge from your +lips; but he will signify his reverence for your memory, by abiding here +an hundred days, to mourn, for one he so truly revered.” He then again +bent his forehead, four times, to the earth, and moistened it with his +tears.</p> + +<p>The youthful disciple, after a few days, desired permission to offer his +condolence to the widow, which she, at first declined: but, upon his +reference to the ancient rites, which allow a widow to receive the visits +of her late husband’s friends, and especially of his disciples, she +finally consented. She moved with slow and solemn steps to the hall of +reception, where the young gentleman acquitted himself, with infinite +grace and propriety, and tendered the usual expressions of consolation.</p> + +<p>The elegant address and fine person of this young disciple were not lost +upon the widow of Chuang-tsze. She was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span>fascinated. A sentiment of +tenderness began to rise in her bosom, whose presence she had scarcely the +courage to recognize. She ventured, in a right melancholy way, to suggest +a hope, that it was not his purpose immediately to leave the valley of +Soong. “I have endured much in the loss of my great master,” he replied. +“Precious forever be his memory. It will be grateful to my heart to seek +here a brief home, wherein I may pass those hundred days of mourning, +which our rites prescribe, and then to take part in the obsequies, which +will follow. I may also solace myself the while, by perusing the works of +my great master, of whose living instructions I am so unhappily deprived.”</p> + +<p>“We shall feel ourselves highly honored, by your presence, under our +roof,” replied the lady; “it seems to me entirely proper, that you should +take up your abode here, rather than elsewhere.” She immediately directed +some refreshments to be brought, and caused the works of Chuang-tsze to be +exhibited, on a large table, together with a copy of the learned +Taou-te-King, which had been a present to her late husband, from Laou-keun +himself.</p> + +<p>The coffin of Chuang-tsze was deposited, in a large hall; and, on one +side, was a suite of apartments, opening into it, which was assigned to +the visitor. This devoted widow came, very frequently, to weep over the +remains of her honored husband; and failed not to say a civil word to the +youth, who, notified of her presence, by her audible sobs, never omitted +to come forth, and mingle his lamentations with hers. Mutual glances were +exchanged, upon such occasions. In short, each, already, was effectually +smitten with the other.</p> + +<p>One day, the pretty, little widow sent privately for the old domestic, who +attended upon the young man, in the capacity of body servant, and +inquired, all in a seemingly casual way, if his master was married. “Not +yet”—he replied.—“He is very fastidious, I suppose”—said the lady, with +an inquiring look.—“It is even so, madam,” replied the servant—“my +master is, indeed, not easily suited, in such a matter. His standard is +very high. I have heard him say, that he should, probably, never be +married, as he despaired of ever finding a female resembling yourself, in +every particular.”—“Did he say so?” exclaimed the widow, as the warm +blood rushed into her cheeks.—“He certainly did,” replied the other, “and +much more, which I do not feel at liberty to repeat.”—“Dear me,” said the +widow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span> “what a bewitching young man he is! go to him, and if he really +loves me, as you say, tell him he may open the subject, without fear, for +his passion is amply returned, by one, who is willing, if he so wishes, to +become his wife.”</p> + +<p>The young widow, from day to day, threw herself repeatedly, and as if by +accident, into the old servant’s way; and began, at last, to feel +surprised, and somewhat nettled, that he brought her no message from his +master. At length, she became exceedingly impatient, and asked him +directly, if he had spoken to his master on the subject. “Yes, madam,” the +old man replied.—“And pray,” asked the widow, eagerly, “what said +he?”—“He said, madam, that such an union would place him upon the +pinnacle of human happiness; but that there was one fatal +objection.”—“And do, for pity’s sake, tell me,” said she, hastily +interrupting the old man, “what that objection can be.”—“He said,” +rejoined the old domestic, “that, being a disciple of your late husband, +such a marriage, he feared, would be considered scandalous.”—“But,” said +she, briskly, “there is just nothing in that. He was never a disciple of +Chuang-tsze—he only proposed to become one, which is an entirely +different thing. If any other frivolous objections arise, I beg you to +remove them; and you may count upon being handsomely rewarded.”</p> + +<p>Her anxiety caused her to become exceedingly restless. She made frequent +visits to the hall, and, when she approached the coffin, her sobs became +more audible than ever—but the young disciple came not forth, as usual. +Upon one occasion, after dark, as she was standing near the coffin, she +was startled, by an unusual noise. “Gracious Heaven!” she exclaimed, “can +it be so! Is the old philosopher coming back to life!” The cold sweat came +upon her lovely brow, as she started to procure a light. When she +returned, the mystery was readily explained. In front of the coffin there +was a table, designed as an altar, for the reception of such emblems and +presents, as were placed there by visitors. The old servant, had become +tipsy, and finding no more convenient place, in which to bestow himself, +while waiting his master’s bidding, he had thrown himself, at full length, +upon this altar; and, in turning over, had occasioned the noise, which had +so much alarmed the young widow. Under other circumstances, the act would +have been accounted sacrilegious, and the fellow would have been subjected +to the bastinado. But, as matters stood, the widow passed it by, and even +suffered the sot to remain undisturbed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span>On the morning of the following day, the widow encountered the old +domestic, who was passing her, with as much apparent indifference, as +though she had never entrusted him, with any important commission. +Surprised by his behavior, she called him to her private +apartment—“Well,” said she, “have you executed the business, which I gave +you in charge?”—“Oh,” said he, with an air of provoking indifference, +“that is all over, I believe.”—“How so,” inquired the widow—“did you +deliver my message correctly?”—“In your own words,” he replied—“my +master would make any sacrifice to make you his wife; and is entirely +persuaded, by your arguments, to give up the objection he stated, in +regard to his being the disciple of Chuang-tsze; but there are three other +objections, which it will be impossible to overcome; and which his sense +of delicacy forbids him to exhibit before you.”—“Poh, poh,” said the +widow, “let me hear what they are, and we shall then see, whether they are +insurmountable or not.”—“Well, madam,” said the old man, “since you +command me, I will state them, as nearly as I can, in the words of my +young master. The first of these three objections is this——”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXI" id="No_CXXI"></a>No. CXXI.</h2> + + +<p>We were about to exhibit those three objections of the young disciple, to +his marriage, with the widow of Chuang-tsze, when we were summoned away, +by professional duties. Let us proceed—“The first of my master’s +objections,” said the old domestic, “is this—the coffin of Chuang-tsze is +still in the hall of ceremony. A sight, so sad and solemnizing, is +absolutely inconsistent with the nuptial celebration. The world would cry +out upon such inconsistency. In the second place, the fame of your late +husband was so great—his love for you so devoted—yours for him so ardent +and sincere, and founded, so obviously, upon his learning and wisdom—that +my master fears it will be impossible for him, to supply the place of so +good, and so great, a man; and that you will, ere long, despise him, for +his inferiority; and that your affections will be entirely and +unchangeably fixed, on the memory of the great defunct. The third and +last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span> objection, named by my master, whose passion for you knows no +bounds, is serious indeed. Though of lofty pedigree, he is very poor. He +has neither money nor lands; and has not the means of purchasing those +marriage gifts, which custom requires him to offer.”</p> + +<p>“And are these the only objections?” said she. “There are no others,” he +replied; “if it were not for these insurmountable objections, the +happiness of my master would be complete, and he would openly manifest +that passion, by which he is now secretly consumed.”</p> + +<p>“They are, by no means, insurmountable,” said the young widow, with +animation. “As for the coffin, what is it? A mere shell, containing the +remains of poor Chuang-tsze. It is not absolutely necessary, that it +should remain in the hall, during these one hundred days. At the farther +end of my garden is an ancient smoke-house. It is quite dilapidated, and +no longer in use. Some of my people shall carry the coffin thither, +without farther delay. So you may inform your sweet, young master, that +his first objection will be instantly removed. And why should he distress +himself so needlessly, in regard to the second? Chuang-tsze certainly +passed, with the world, for a great philosopher, and a wonderful man. The +world sees from a distance. A sort of haze or mist impedes its vision. +Minute particulars escape its observation. That, which is smooth and fair, +seen from afar, may appear full of inequalities to one, who is near at +hand. God forbid, that I should undervalue the dead; but it is well known, +that Chuang-tsze repudiated his second wife, because she did not precisely +suit his humor, and then married me. His great reputation induced a +certain sovereign, to appoint him his chief minister. But the philosopher +was not deficient in shrewdness—he knew his incapacity, and resolved to +hide himself, in that solitude, where we have vegetated, so long.”</p> + +<p>“About a month ago, he encountered a young widow, who, with a large fan, +was endeavoring to dry up her husband’s grave, because she could not marry +again, under the condition her husband had imposed upon her, until this +was done. Chuang-tsze, if you will believe it, made the acquaintance of +this shameless woman; and actually assisted her, in drying up her +husband’s grave. She gave him a fan, as a keepsake; and he valued it +highly. I got possession of it however, and tore it to tatters. You see +how great my obligations are to this wonderful philosopher;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span> and you may +judge of the real affection, which I must feel, for the memory of such a +man.”</p> + +<p>“The last objection,” continued the widow, “is easily disposed of. I will +furnish your master with all the means he can desire. Chuang-tsze, to do +the man justice, has left me the absolute mistress of an ample +fortune—here, present these twenty taels to your master, from me, with +such expressions of devotion, as may befit the lips of one, whose heart is +all his own; and say to him, unless he himself is desirous of a longer +delay, that, as the whole of life is not too long for love, I shall be +happy, if he desires it, to become his bride, this very day.”</p> + +<p>Thus far the course of true love, in despite of the proverb, certainly ran +smooth.</p> + +<p>“Here,” said the young disciple, upon sight of the twenty taels, as he +turned them over, “is something substantial—run back immediately to the +widow, and tell her my passion will endure the curb no longer. I am +entirely at her disposal.” The widow was quite beside herself, upon +receiving these tidings; and, casting off her garments of heaviness, she +began to embellish her fine person. The coffin of Chuang-tsze, by her +directions, was immediately transferred to the old smoke-house.</p> + +<p>The hall was made ready, for the approaching nuptials. If murmurs +occasionally arose, among the old, faithful domestics of Chuang-tsze, the +widow’s passion was more blind than moonless midnight, and deafer than the +time-stricken adder. A gorgeous feast was made ready. The shades of +evening drew on apace—the lanterns were lighted up, in all +directions—the nuptial torch cast forth its bright beams from an elevated +table.</p> + +<p>At the appointed signal, the bridegroom entered, most skilfully and +splendidly arrayed,—so that his fine, manly figure was exhibited, to the +greatest advantage. The young widow soon appeared, her countenance the +very tabernacle of pleasure, and her bewitching form, adorned in the most +costly silks, and splendid embroidery. They placed themselves, side by +side, in front of the hymeneal taper, arrayed in pearls, and diamonds, and +tissue of gold. Those salutations, which custom demands, having been duly +performed, and the bride and bridegroom having wished each other eternal +felicity, in that manner, which the marriage rites prescribe, the +bridegroom holding the hand of the bride, they proceeded to the festal +hall; and having drunk from the goblet of mutual fidelity, they took their +places, at the banqueting board.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span>The repast went joyously forward—the darkest cloud—how suddenly will it +come over the smiling face of the bewitching moon! The festival had not +yet passed, when the bridegroom fell to the floor, in horrible +convulsions. With eyes turned upward, and mouth frightfully distorted, he +became an object of horror. The bride, whose passion for the young +disciple was ardent and sincere, screamed aloud. She threw herself, in all +her bridal array, upon the floor, by his side; clasped him in her arms; +covered him with kisses; and implored him, to say what she could do, to +afford him relief. Miserable youth! He was unable to reply, and seemed +about to expire.</p> + +<p>The old domestic rushed into the apartment, upon hearing the noise, and +taking his master from the floor, proceeded to shake him with violence. +“My God,” cried the lady, “has this ever happened before?” “Yes, Madam,” +he replied, “he has a return of it about once, in every year.” “And, for +Heaven’s sake, tell me what remedies do you employ?” she eagerly inquired. +“There is one sovereign remedy,” the old man replied; “his physician +considers it a specific.” “And what is it? tell me, in the name of +Confucius,” she passionately exclaimed, for the convulsions were growing +more violent. “Nothing will restore him, but the brains of a man, recently +dead, taken in warm wine. His father, who was governor of a province, when +his son was last attacked, in this way, caused a criminal to be executed, +that his brains might be thus employed.” “Good God!” exclaimed the +agonizing bride, for the convulsions, after a short remission, were +returning, with redoubled violence, and the bridegroom was foaming +terribly, at the mouth. “Tell me instantly, will the brains of a man who +died a natural death answer as well?” “Undoubtedly,” the old servant +replied. “Well then,” said she, in a tone somewhat subdued—“there is +Chuang-tsze in the smoke-house.” “Ah, Madam,” said the old domestic, “I am +aware of it—it occurred to me—but I feared to suggest it.” “And of what +possible use,” she exclaimed, “can the brains of old Chuang-tsze be to him +now, I should like to know?”</p> + +<p>At this moment, the convulsions became absolutely terrific. “These +returns,” said the old man, “will become more and more violent, till they +destroy my poor master. There is no time to be lost.” The wretched bride +rushed from the apartment, and, seizing a hatchet, which happened to be +lying in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span> outer passage, she hastily made her way to the old +smoke-house. Elevating the hatchet above her head, she struck a violent +blow, on the lid of the coffin.</p> + +<p>If the whole force of the blow had descended upon a secret spring, the lid +could not have risen more suddenly. It seemed like the power of magic. The +bride turned her eyes upon the closed lids of the corpse—they gradually +opened; and the balls were slowly turned, and steadily fixed, upon her. In +an instant Chuang-tsze sat, bolt upright, in his coffin! She sent forth a +shriek of terror—the hatchet fell from her paralyzed hand—the cold sweat +of confusion gathered thickly upon her brow.</p> + +<p>“My beloved wife,” said the philosopher, with perfect calmness, “be so +obliging as to lend me your hand, that I may get out.—I have had a +charming nap,” continued he, as he took the lamp from her hand, and +advanced towards the hall. She followed, trembling at every step, and +dreading the meeting, between the old philosopher and the young disciple.</p> + +<p>Though the air of unwonted festivity, under the light of the waning +tapers, still hung over the apartment, fortunately the youth and the old +servant seemed to have departed. Upon this, her courage, in some measure, +revived, and, turning a look of inexpressible tenderness upon +Chuang-tsze—“Dearest husband,” said she, “how I have cherished your +memory! My day thoughts and dreams have been all of you. I have often +heard, that the apparent dead were revived, especially if not confined +within closed apartments. I therefore caused your precious coffin to be +removed, where the cool, refreshing air could blow over it. How I have +watched, and listened, for some evidence of returning life! And how my +heart leaped into my mouth, when my vigilance was at last rewarded. I flew +with a hatchet to open the coffin; and, when I saw your dear eyes turned +upon me, I thought I should”—“I can never repay your devotion,” said the +philosopher, interrupting her, with an expression of ineffable tenderness, +“but why are you thus gaily apparelled—why these robes—these jewels—my +love?”</p> + +<p>“It seemed to me, my dear husband,” she readily replied, “that some +invisible power assured me of your return to life. How, thought I, can I +meet my beloved Chuang-tsze, in the garments of heaviness? No; it will be +like a return of our wedding day; and thus, you see, I have resumed my +bridal array, and the jewels you gave me, during our honeymoon.”—“Ah,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span> +said the philosopher, “how considerate you are—you always had your +thoughts about you.” He then drew near the table. The wedding taper, which +was then burning low in its socket, cast its equivocal rays upon the +gorgeous bowls and dishes, which covered the festal board. Chuang-tsze +surveyed them attentively, in silence; and, calling for warm wine, +deliberately drained the goblet, while the lady stood near him, trembling +with confusion and terror.</p> + +<p>At length, setting down the goblet, and pointing his finger—“Look behind +you!” he exclaimed. She turned her head, and beheld the young disciple, in +his wedding finery, with his attendant—a second glance, and they were +gone. Such was the power of this mighty master of magic. The wife slunk to +her apartment; and, resolving not to survive her shame and disappointment, +unloosened her wedding girdle, and ascending to the garret, hung herself +therewith, to one of the cross-beams, until she was dead. Tidings were +soon brought to Chuang-tsze, who, deliberately feeling her pulse, and +ascertaining that she was certainly dead, cut her down, and placed her +precious remains, in the coffin, in the old smoke-house.</p> + +<p>He then proceeded to indulge his philosophical humor. He sat down, among +the flickering lamps, at the solitary board, and struck up a dirge, +accompanying his voice, by knocking with the chopsticks, and whatever else +was convenient to his purpose, upon the porcelain bowls and dishes, which +he finally broke into a thousand pieces, and setting fire to his mansion, +he consumed it to ashes, together with the smoke-house, and all its +valuable contents.</p> + +<p>He then, abandoning all thoughts of taking another wife, travelled into +the recesses of Latinguin, in pursuit of his old master, Laoukeun, whom, +at length, he discovered. There he acquired the reputation of a profound +philosopher; and lay down, at last, in the peaceful grave, where wicked +widows cease from troubling, and weary widowers are at rest.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="No_CXXII" id="No_CXXII"></a>No. CXXII.</h2> + + +<p>A grasshopper was not the crest of Peter Faneuil’s arms. I formerly +supposed it was; for a gilded grasshopper, as half the world knows, is the +vane upon the cupola of Faneuil Hall; and a gilded grasshopper, as many of +us well remember, whirled about, of yore, upon the little spire, that rose +above the summer-house, appurtenant to the mansion, where Peter Faneuil +lived, and died. That house was built, and occupied, by his uncle, Andrew; +and he had some seven acres, for his garden thereabouts. It was upon the +westerly side of old <i>Treamount</i> Street, and became the residence of the +late William Phillips, whose political relations to the people of +Massachusetts, as their Lieutenant Governor, could not preserve him from +the sobriquet of <i>Billy</i>.</p> + +<p>I thought it not unlikely, that Peter’s crest was a grasshopper, and that, +on that account, he had become partial to this emblem. But I am duly +certified, that it was not so. The selection of a grasshopper, for a vane, +was made, in imitation of their example, who placed the very same thing, +upon the pinnacle of the Royal Exchange, in London. The arms of the +Faneuils I have seen, upon the silver castors, which once were Peter’s +own; and, upon his decease, became the property of his brother, Benjamin, +from whom they descended to his only daughter, Mary Faneuil, who became, +October 13, 1754, the wife of George Bethune, now deceased; and was the +mother of George Bethune, Esquire, who will complete his eighty-second +year, in April, 1851. From this gentleman, whose grand-uncle Peter Faneuil +was, and from other descendants of old Benjamin Faneuil, of Rochelle, I +have received some facts and documents—interesting to me—possibly to +others.</p> + +<p>In conversation with an antiquarian friend, not long ago, we agreed, that +very much less was generally known of Peter Faneuil, than of almost any +other great, public benefactor. His name, nevertheless, is inseparably +associated, with the cradle of American liberty. Drs. Eliot and Allen, in +their Biographical Dictionaries, have passed him over, very slightingly, +the former finishing up this noble-hearted Huguenot, with fifteen lines; +and the latter, with eight; while not a few of their pages have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span> +devoted, to the very dullest doctors of the drowsiest theology, and to—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Names ignoble, born to be forgot.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Farmer, in his Genealogical Register, does not seem to be aware, that +the name of Faneuil existed, for he has not even found a niche for it +there. His Register, I am aware, purports to be a register of the “<i>First +Settlers</i>.” But he has found room for the Baudouins (Bowdoins) and their +descendants. They also were Huguenots; and came hither, with the Faneuils, +after 1685. One of that family, as will be more fully shown, Claude +Baudoin, presented Peter Faneuil in baptism. Yet, such was the public +sense of Peter’s favors, <i>when they were green</i>, that John Lovell—that +same Master Lovell, who retired with the British army, in 1776—delivered, +under an appointment of the town, an oration, to commemorate the virtues, +and laud the munificence of Peter Faneuil. Such, in truth, was the very +first occasion, upon which the citizens were summoned to listen to the +voice of an orator, in Faneuil Hall; and then, in honor of him, who +perfected the noble work, at his own proper cost, and whose death so +speedily followed its completion—for a noble work assuredly it was, +relatively to the times, in which it was wrought.</p> + +<p>The Faneuils were Huguenots. The original pronunciation of this patronymic +must have been somewhat different from the present: there was an excusable +<i>naïveté</i>, in the inquiry of a rural visitant of the city—if a well known +mechanical establishment, with a tall, tubular chimney, were not <i>Funnel</i> +Hall?</p> + +<p>After the revocation of the edict of Nantes, by Louis XIV., in 1685, the +Faneuils, in common with many other Huguenots of France,—the Baudouins, +the Bernons, the Sigourneys, the Boudinots, the Pringles, the Hugers, the +Boutineaus, the Jays, the Laurenses, the Manigaults, the Marions, the +Prioleaus, and many others, came to these North American shores—as our +pilgrim fathers came—to worship God, in security, and according to their +consciences. Many of these persecuted men conferred, upon their adopted +home, those blessings, which the exercise of their talents, and the +influence of their characters, and of the talents and characters of their +descendants have confirmed to our common country, for many generations.</p> + +<p>They came, by instalments, and arrived at different points. Thirty +families of these expatriated Protestants came hither, and settled upon a +tract, eight miles square, in the “Nipmug <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span>country,” where now stands the +town of Oxford, in the County of Worcester. This settlement commenced, in +Gov. Dudley’s time, and under his particular auspices; but continued only +till 1696, when it was broken up, by the inroads of the savages. In the +overthrow of this settlement, rum was a material agent, and occasioned, +though upon a very small scale, a second massacre of some of these +Huguenots. There is a letter to Gov. Dudley, from M. Bondet, the Huguenot +clergyman, dated July 6, 1691, complaining bitterly of the unrestricted +sale, among the Indians, of this fatal fire water; and giving a graphic +account of the uproar and outrage it produced.</p> + +<p>After the failure of this attempt, many of the scattered planters +collected, in Boston. For several years, they gathered, for devotional +purposes, in one of the larger school-houses. Jan. 4, 1704, they purchased +a piece of land, in South School Street, of John Mears, a hatter, for +“£110 current silver money of New England;” but, for several years, the +selectmen, for some cause, unknown to us, refused their consent, that +these worthy French Protestants should build their church thereon. About +twelve years after the purchase of the land, the little church—the +visible temple—went up. It was of brick, and very small. Monsieur Pierre +Daillé was their first pastor, André Le Mercier the second; and, if there +be any truth, in tradition, these Huguenot shepherds were pure and holy +men. Daillé died testate, May 20, 1715. His will bears date May 15, of +that year. He directs his body to be interred, at the discretion of his +executor, James Bowdoin, “<i>with this restriction, that there be no wine at +my funeral, and that none of my wife’s relations have mourning cloaths</i>.” +He empowers his executor to give them gloves; and scarfs and gloves to all +the ministers of Boston. To his wife, Martha, he gives £350, Province +bills, and his negro man, Kuffy. His Latin and French books he gives to +the French Church, as <i>the nucleus of a library</i>. £100 to be put at +interest for the use of the minister. £10 to be improved by the elders, +for the use of the church, and should a meeting-house be built, then in +aid of that object. To John Rawlins the French schoolmaster, £5. He then +makes his brother Paul, of Armsfort, in Holland, residuary legatee. His +“<i>books and arms</i>” were appraised at £2. 10. The whole estate at £274. 10. +sterling.</p> + +<p>Le Mercier dedicated his book, on Detraction, to his people. Therein he +says, “You have not despised my youth, when I first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span> came among you; you +have since excused my infirmities; and, as I did the same, in respect to +yours, it has pleased our Saviour, the head of his church, to favor us +with an uninterrupted peace and union in our church, for the almost +eighteen years that I have preached the word of salvation to you.” His +book was published in 1733. He therefore became their pastor between 1715, +when Daillé died, and 1716. He died March 31, 1764, aged 71. He was +therefore born in 1693, and ordained about the age of 22.</p> + +<p>Le Mercier’s will is dated, at Dorchester, Nov. 7, 1761. A codicil was +added, at Boston, Feb. 3, 1764. He left his estate to his four children, +“<i>Andrew, Margaret, Jane, and my son Bartholomew, if living</i>.” He enjoins +upon his heirs the payment of Bartholomew’s debt to Thomas Hancock, for +which he had become responsible, and which he had partly paid. By his +will, he appointed Jane and Margaret to execute his will. In the codicil, +he refers to the disordered state of Margaret’s mind, and appoints +Zachariah Johonnot, in her stead, requesting him to be her guardian. The +whole estate was appraised at £232. 18. 6. sterling.</p> + +<p>Years rolled on: juxtaposition and intermarriage were Americanising these +Huguenots, from month to month; and, ere long, they felt, less and less, +the necessity of any separate place of worship. On the 7th of May, 1748, +“Stephen Boutineau, the only surviving elder,” and others, among whom we +recognize the Huguenot names of Johonnot, Packinett, Boudoin, and +Sigourney, conveyed their church and land to Thomas Fillebrown, Thomas +Handyside Peck, and others, trustees for the “new congregational church, +whereof Mr. Andrew Croswell is pastor.” After a while, this church became +the property of the Roman Catholics; and mass was first celebrated there, +Nov. 2, 1788. The Catholics, in 1803, having removed to Franklin Place, +the old Huguenot church was taken down; and, upon the site of it, a temple +was erected, by the Universalists; showing incontrovertibly, thank God, +that the soil was most happily adapted to toleration.</p> + +<p>The reader fancies, perhaps, that I have forgotten Peter Faneuil. Not so: +but I must linger a little longer with these Huguenots, who attempted a +settlement in the Nipmug country. In the southwesterly part of Oxford, +there rises a lofty hill, whose summit affords an extensive and delightful +prospect. Beneath,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span> at the distance of a mile, or more, lies the village +of Oxford; and the scenery, beyond, is exceedingly picturesque. Upon this +eminence, which now bears the name of Mayo’s Hill, are the well-defined +remains of an ancient fort. Its construction is perfectly regular. The +bastions are clearly marked; and the old well, constructed within the +barrier, still remains. As recently, as 1819, says the Rev. Dr. Holmes, in +his able and interesting account of the Huguenots, “grapevines were +growing luxuriantly, along the line of this fort; and these, together with +currant bushes, roses, and other shrubbery, nearly formed a hedge around +it. There were some remains of an apple orchard. The currant and asparagus +were still growing there.”</p> + +<p>Such were the vestiges of these thirty families, who, in 1696, fled from a +foe, not more savage and relentless, though less enlightened, than the +murderers of Coligny, in 1572.</p> + +<p>The Faneuils formed no part of these thirty families; but, not many years +after the little Oxford colony was broken up, and the fugitive survivors +had found their way to Boston, the Faneuils, one after another, seem to +have been attracted hither, from those points of our country, where they +first arrived, after the revocation of the edict of Nantes, in 1685, or +from other, intermediate stations, to which they had removed.</p> + +<p>There are not elements enough, I fear, for a very interesting memoir of +Peter Faneuil. The materials, even for a brief account, are marvellously +few, and far between; and the very best result, to be anticipated, is a +warp and woof of shreds and patches.</p> + +<p>But, if I am not much mistaken, I know more of Peter Faneuil, than Master +Lovell ever wot of, though he delivered the funeral oration; and, albeit +the sum total is very small, it seems but meet and right, that it should +be given to the world. I think it would so be decided, by the citizens, if +the vote were taken, this very day—in <i>Faneuil Hall</i>.</p> + +<p>Our <i>neighbors</i>, all over the United States have heard of <i>Faneuil Hall</i>; +and, though, of late years, since we have had a race, or breed, of mayors, +every one of whom has endeavored to be <i>worthier</i> or more <i>conceding</i> than +his predecessor, Faneuil Hall has been converted into a sort of omnibus +without wheels; yet the glory of its earlier, and of some, among its +latter days, is made, thank God, of that unchangeable stuff, that will +never shrink, and cannot fade.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span>No man has ever heard of Faneuil Hall, who will not be pleased to hear +somewhat of that noble-minded, whole-souled descendant of the primitive +Huguenots—and such indeed he was—who came, as a stranger and sojourner +here, and built that hall, at his own proper cost and charge, and gave +it—the gift of a cheerful giver—to those, among whom he had come to +dwell—and all this, in the midst of his days, in the very prime of his +life, not waiting for the almond tree to flourish, and for desire to fail, +and for the infirmities of age to admonish the rich man, that he must set +his house in order, and could carry nothing with him, to those regions +beyond.</p> + +<p>Faneuil Hall has been called the <i>Cradle of Liberty</i>, so long and so +often, that it may seem to savor of political heresy, to quarrel with the +name—but, for the soul of me, I cannot help it. If it be intended to say, +that Faneuil Hall is the <i>birth place</i> of Liberty, I am not aware of a +single instance, on record, of a baby, <i>born in a cradle</i>. The proverbial +use of the cradle has ever been to rock the baby to sleep; and Heaven +knows our old fathers made no such use of Faneuil Hall, in their early +management of the bantling; for it was an ever-wakeful child, from the +very moment of its first, sharp, shrill, life cry.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXIII" id="No_CXXIII"></a>No. CXXIII.</h2> + + +<p>General Jackson has been reported—how justly I know not—upon some +occasion, in a company of ladies, to have given a brief, but spirited, +description of all his predecessors, in the Presidential chair, till he +came down to the time of President Tyler, when, seizing his hat, he +proceeded to bow himself out of the room. The ladies, however, insisted +upon his completing the catalogue—<i>“Well, ladies,” said he, “it is matter +of history, and may therefore be spoken—President Tyler, ladies, +was—pretty much nothing.”</i></p> + +<p>A very felicitous description; and not of very limited application to men +and things. I cannot find a better, for Master John Lovell’s funeral +oration, upon Peter Faneuil. This affair, which Dr. Snow, in his history +of Boston, calls “<i>a precious relic</i>,” is certainly a wonderfully +flatulent performance. A time-stained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span> copy of the original edition of +1743 lies under my eye. I hoped, not unreasonably, that it would be a lamp +to my path, in searching after the historical assets of Peter Faneuil. But +not one ray of light has it afforded me; and, with one or two exceptions, +in relation to the <i>Hall</i>, and the general beneficence of its founder, it +is, in no sense, more of a funeral oration, upon Peter Faneuil, than upon +Peter Smink. In their vote of thanks to Master Lovell, passed on the day +of its delivery, the committee speak of “<i>his oration</i>,” very judiciously +abstaining from all unwarrantable expletives. From this oration we can +discover nothing of Faneuil’s birth-place, nor parentage, nor when, nor +whence, nor wherefore he came hither; nor of the day of his birth, nor of +the day of his death, nor of the disease of which he died; nor of his +habits of life, nor of the manner, in which he acquired his large estate; +nor of his religious opinions, nor of his ancestors.</p> + +<p>We collect, however, from these meagre pages, that Mr. Faneuil meditated +other benefactions to the town—that his death was sudden—that votes of +thanks had been passed, for his donation of the Hall, “a few months +before”—that the meeting, at which the oration was pronounced, March 14, +1742, was the very first annual meeting, in Faneuil Hall—that Peter +Faneuil was the owner of “a large and plentiful estate”—that “no man +managed his affairs with greater prudence and industry”—that “he fed the +hungry and clothed the naked; comforted the fatherless and the widows, in +their affliction, and his bounty visited the prisoner.”</p> + +<p>Master Lovell, not inelegantly, observes of Faneuil’s intended +benefactions, which were prevented by his death—“<i>His intended charities, +though they are lost to us, will not be lost to him. Designs of goodness +and mercy, prevented as these were, will meet with the reward of +actions</i>.” This passage appears to have found favor, in the eyes of the +late Dr. Boyle, who has, accordingly, on page 21, of his memoir of the +Boston Episcopal Charitable Society, when speaking of Faneuil, made a very +free and familiar appropriation of it, with a slight verbal variation.</p> + +<p>Master Lovell’s fervent aspirations, in regard to Faneuil Hall, one +hundred and nine years ago, have not been fulfilled, to the letter. The +gods have granted the orator’s prayer—“<i>May Liberty always spread its +joyful wings over this place</i>”—but not with Master Lovell’s conditions +annexed; for he adds—“<i>May</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span> +<span class="smcap">Loyalty</span> <i>to a</i> <span class="smcap">King</span>, <i>under whom we enjoy +that Liberty, ever remain our character</i>.”</p> + +<p>In this particular, Master Lovell was not to be indulged. Yet he steadily +adhered to his tory principles; and, like many other conscientious and +honorable men, whom it is much less the fashion to abuse, at present, than +it was, of yore, adhered to his royal master; and relinquished his own +sceptre, as monarch of the South Grammar School, with all the honors and +emoluments thereof, choosing rather to suffer affliction, with his +thwarted and mortified master, than to enjoy the pleasures of rebellion, +for a season. He retired to Halifax, with the British army, in 1776, and +died there, in 1778.</p> + +<p>Original copies of Master Lovell’s oration are exceedingly rare; though +the “<i>precious relic</i>” has been reprinted, by Dr. Snow, in his history of +Boston. The title may be worth preserving—“A funeral oration, delivered +at the opening of the annual meeting of the town, March 14th, 1742. In +Faneuil Hall, in Boston. Occasioned by the death of the founder, Peter +Faneuil Esq. By John Lovell, A. M., Master of the South Grammar School, in +Boston. <i>Sui memores alios fecere merendo.</i> Boston, printed by Green, +Bushell & Allen, for S. Kneeland & T. Green, in Queen Street, 1743.”</p> + +<p>As an eminent historian conceived it to be a matter of indifference, at +which end he commenced his history, I shall not adhere to any +chronological arrangement, in the presentation of the few facts, which I +have collected, relating to Peter Faneuil and his family. On the contrary, +I shall begin at the latter end, and, first, endeavor to clear up a little +confusion, that has arisen, as to the time of his death. Allen, in his +Biog. Dic., says, that Peter Faneuil died, March 3, 1743. I am sorry to +say, that, in several instances, President Allen’s <i>dates</i> resemble +Jeremiah’s <i>figs</i>, in the second basket; though, upon the present +occasion, he is right, on a certain hypothesis. In a note to the “Memoir +of the French Protestants,” also, M. H. C. vol. xxii. p. 55, Peter Faneuil +is said to have died, March 3, 1743. Pemberton, in his “Description of +Boston,” Ibid. v. 3, p. 253, by stating that the funeral oration was +delivered, March 14, 1742, makes 1742 the year of Faneuil’s death. The +title page of the oration itself, quoted above, fixes the death, in 1742. +Dr. Eliot, in his Biog. Dic., says 1742. The Probate records of Suffolk +show administration granted, on Peter Faneuil’s estate, March 18, 1742. +His <i>obiit</i>, on a mourning ring, that I have seen, is 1742.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span>Now, if all dealers in dates, of the olden time, would discriminate, +between the old style and the new, we should be spared a vast deal of +vexation; and the good people of Boston, notional as they proverbially +are, would not appear, in their creditable zeal to do honor to a public +benefactor, to have given him a funeral oration, a twelve month before he +was dead. If the year be taken to begin, on the first of January, then Dr. +Allen is right; and Peter Faneuil died March 3, 1743. But if it did not +begin, till the twenty-fifth of March, and, legally, it certainly did not, +before 1752, when the new style was adopted, in Great Britain, and the +Provinces, then Eliot, and Pemberton, and the title page of the oration, +and the records of the court, and the mourning ring are right, and Peter +Faneuil died, in 1742.</p> + +<p>An illustration of this principle may be found, on the title page of the +oration itself. It is stated to have been delivered, March 14, 1742, and +printed in 1743. Having been delivered near the close of the year 1742, it +was printed, doubtless, soon after March 25, which was New Year’s day for +1743.</p> + +<p>The public journals, nevertheless, seem to have adopted, and adhered to +the idea, that January 1, was the first day of the historical year, long +before the style was altered; and thus, in the Weekly News Letter, +published in Boston, Faneuil is stated to have died, in 1743. This journal +contains an obituary notice. A few imperfect numbers of this paper are all +that remain, and its extreme rarity leads me to copy the obituary here:—</p> + +<p>“Thursday, March 10, 1743. On Thursday last, dyed at his seat in this +Town, <span class="smcap">Peter Faneuil</span>, Esq., whose remains, we hear, are to be enterred this +afternoon; a gentleman, possessed of a very ample fortune, and a most +generous spirit, whose noble benefaction to this town, and constant +employment of a great number of tradesmen, artificers and labourers, to +whom he was a liberal paymaster; whose hospitality to all, and secret +unbounded chirity to the poor—made his life a public blessing, and his +death a general loss to, and universally regretted by, the inhabitants; +who had been so sensible of their obligations to him, for the sumptuous +edifice, which he raised at his private expence, for their Market house +and Town Hall, that, at a general town meeting, as a testimony of their +gratitude, they voted, that the place of their future consultations should +be called by his name forever: in doing which they perpetuated their own +honor as much as his memory; for, by this record posterity will know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span> the +most publick spirited man, in all regards, that ever yet appeared on the +Northern continent of America, was a member of their community.”</p> + +<p>In the Boston Evening Post of March 7, 1743, in a brief notice of Peter +Faneuil’s death, the disease of which he died is said to have been +“<i>dropsey</i>.”</p> + +<p>Now that we have established the period of Peter’s death, it may be well, +to establish the period of his birth; and this we can do, with certainty, +even to an hour, from authentic documents. In addition to other means, for +ascertaining dates, and various particulars, respecting Peter Faneuil, and +the members of his family—through the kindness of the Genealogical +Society, I have, before me, a folio volume of his commercial +correspondence: mutilated, indeed it is, by some thoughtless hand, but +furnishes some curious and interesting matter. Many of his letters are +written in French; and those, which are in English, are well composed. I +have found but a single instance, in which he writes our language, like a +Frenchman. Upon that occasion, he was in a passion with a certain judge of +the admiralty, complained of his ill usage, and charged him with +“<i>capporice</i>.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXIV" id="No_CXXIV"></a>No. CXXIV.</h2> + + +<p>I am indebted to Mr. Charles Faneuil Jones, a grandson of Mary Ann Jones, +Peter Faneuil’s sister, for the use of some ancient papers, and family +relics; and to George Bethune, Esquire, of Boston, the grandson of +<i>Benjamin Faneuil</i>, Peter’s brother, for the loan of a venerable +document—time worn, torn, and sallow—the record of the birth of Peter +Faneuil, and of his brothers and sisters. This document, from its manifest +antiquity, the masculine character of the hand writing, and the constant +use of the parental expressions—<i>notre fils</i>—<i>notre fille</i>—I, at first, +supposed to be the original autograph of <i>Benjamin</i>, the father of Peter. +This conjecture was, of course, demolished, by the last entry, on the +record, which is of old <i>Benjamin’s</i> decease, but in the same peculiar +hand.</p> + +<p>The document is in French; and, after a careful +comparison—<i>literatim</i>—with the volume of Peter’s commercial +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span>correspondence, now in my possession—I have very little doubt, that this +record was copied, by Peter, from the paternal original, with the +additional entry, by himself, of the date of his father’s death. At the +bottom, and beneath a line of separation, and by another hand, with a +fresher ink, is the following entry—“<i>Le 6 D’Aout 1725, M. Gillam +Phillips de Boston a epousee ma Fille Marie Faneuil agée de dix sept et +quatre mois</i>.” The 6th of August, 1725, Mr. Gillam Phillips, of Boston, +married my daughter, Marie, aged seventeen and four months. The expression +<i>ma file</i>, shows this entry to have been made by Peter’s mother, then the +widow of <i>Benjamin</i>, who appears, by this record, to have died, at New +York, March 31, 1718-9, aged 50 years and 8 months.</p> + +<p>This unusual prænomen, <i>Gillam</i>, I, at first, supposed to be a corruption +of <i>Guillaume</i>. But there was a merchant, of that day, in Boston, bearing +the name of <i>Gillam Phillips</i>. In the Registry of Deeds, for Suffolk, lib. +43, fol. 13, there is recorded a deed, from “<i>Wentworth Paxton, and Faith, +his wife, formerly Faith Gillam</i>,” in which, reference is made to Faith’s +father, <i>Benjamin Gillam</i>. Mr. Gillam Phillips is thus named, in the will +of his wife’s uncle, Andrew Faneuil, to which I shall have occasion to +refer. Jan 22, 1738, Peter, in a letter to Lane & Smethurst, of London, +speaks of his brother-in-law, <i>Mr. Gillam Phillips</i>.</p> + +<p>This gentleman was the elder brother of <i>Mr. Henry Phillips</i>, who was +indicted, for killing Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, in a duel, fought with +swords, and without seconds, on Boston Common, upon the evening of July 3, +1728. This extremely interesting affair cannot be introduced, as an +episode here, on account of the space it must necessarily occupy. The +original documents, relating to this encounter, which terminated in the +immediate death of Mr. Woodbridge, have fallen into my possession; and, as +Peter Faneuil personally assisted, in the escape of the survivor, who +found a city of refuge, in Rochelle, and a friend and protector, in +Peter’s uncle, <i>Jean Faneuil</i>; it seems, in some degree, related to the +history of Peter and his kinsfolk. I may, possibly, refer to it hereafter.</p> + +<p>In 1685, the period of the revocation of the edict of Nantes, there were +living, in or near Rochelle, in France, three brothers and two sisters of +the Faneuil family. One of these, <i>Benjamin</i>, became the father of <i>our</i> +Peter <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span>Faneuil—the others, his uncles and aunts, when the persecution +commenced, so ably and touchingly described, by James Saurin, fled for +safety to foreign lands. Andrew, the elder brother, escaped into Holland, +and took up his abode in Amsterdam; where he married that preëminently +beautiful lady, whose portrait is now in the possession of Col. Benjamin +Hunt, whose mother was Jane Bethune, a daughter of Mary Faneuil, the neice +of Peter.</p> + +<p><i>Andrew Faneuil</i>, before many years, came to this country—precisely when, +I cannot say. That he was here, as early as 1709, is evident, from the +proposals of Oliver Noyes and others, to build a wharf from the bottom of +King Street, to low-water mark, “of the width of King Street, between Mr. +East Apthorp’s and Mr. Andrew Faneuil’s.” These proposals are dated Feb. +20, 1709, and are inserted in Dr. Snow’s History of Boston, p. 209.</p> + +<p>In Holland, doubtless, Andrew acquired that passion, for flowers, which he +gratified, in his seven-acre Eden, on the westerly side of Treamount +Street, where he is said to have erected the first hothouse, that ever +existed in New England. His warehouse, the same, by him devised, for the +support of the minister of the French Church, was at the lower end of King +Street, near Merchant’s Row, from which Butler’s Wharf then extended, as +laid down, by John Bonner, in 1722. This warehouse, under the will of +Andrew, reverted, to his heirs, upon the extinction of the French Church. +It was then, just where we find it, in the New England Weekly Journal, of +Jan. 13, 1729. “<i>Good New York Flower. To be sold, at Mr. Andrew Faneuil’s +Warehouse, at the lower end of King Street, at 35s per Hundred, as also +good chocolate, just imported.</i>” He was engaged in commerce; and, for +those days of small things, acquired a large estate, which his forecast +taught him to distribute, among the public funds of France, England, and +Holland. His warehouse was purchased of one of his descendants, by the +late John Parker.</p> + +<p><i>Jean Faneuil</i>, another of Peter’s uncles, held fast to the faith of his +fathers; and lived, and died, a Roman Catholic. He died in Rochelle, of +apoplexy, June 24, 1737, about four months after the decease of his +brother Andrew, as appears by Peter’s letter of Sept. 8, 1737.</p> + +<p><i>Susannah Faneuil</i> also continued, in the Roman Catholic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span> faith, and +remained in Rochelle; where she became the wife, and the widow, of Abraham +de la Croix. She survived her brother Andrew, the date of whose decease is +clearly shown to have been Feb. 13, 1737, by Peter’s letter to S. & W. +Baker, of London, giving them the inscription, “<i>for the handsomest +mourning rings</i>.”</p> + +<p><i>Jane Faneuil</i> was a Huguenot. She became the wife of Pierre Cossart, and +took refuge, with her husband, in Ireland, where she died.</p> + +<p><i>Benjamin Faneuil</i>, the father of <i>our</i> Peter, was closely associated with +that little band of Huguenots, who clustered about the town of +Narragansett, otherwise called Kingstown, and the region round about, at +the very close of the seventeenth century. In that village, in 1699, he +married a French lady, whose name was Anne Bureau. The record, in Peter’s +transcript from his father’s original, is now upon my table—“<i>Le 28 de +Juillet 1699. Benjamin Faneuil et Anne Bureau ont eté marié a +Narragansett, en nouvelle Angleterre, en la maison de Mons. Pierre Ayross, +par Mons. Pierre Daillé ministre de L’Eglise francoise de Boston</i>.” The +28th of July, 1699, Benjamin Faneuil and Ann Bureau were married at +Narragansett, in New England, at the house of Mr. Peter Ayross, by Mr. +Peter Daillé, minister of the French Church in Boston. Three years before, +in 1696, Sept. 4, the name of this Benjamin Faneuil will be found, M. H. +C., xxii. 60, attached to a certificate, in favor of Gabriel Bernon, +referring to the massacre of John Johnson and his three children, at New +Oxford. Johnson had married the sister of old <i>André Sigournay</i>.</p> + +<p>This <i>Benjamin Faneuil</i>, the præpositus, or stirps, became the father of +eleven children, by his wife, <i>Anne Bureau</i>, who were all born in New +Rochelle, in the State of New York, and of whom <i>our</i> Peter was the first +born. Their names, in the order of birth, are these—<i>Peter</i>, <i>Benjamin</i>, +<i>Francis</i>, <i>Anne</i>, <i>Anne</i>, <i>Marie</i>, <i>John</i>, <i>Anne</i>, <i>Susannah</i>, <i>Mary +Anne</i>, and <i>Catherine</i>. The two first Annes, John, and Catherine, died in +infancy.</p> + +<p>The birth of our Peter is thus chronicled, in the family record—“<i>Le 20 +de Juin, 1700, Estant Jeudy a 6 heures du soir est né nostre fils Pierre +Faneuil, et a eté baptisé le 14 Juillet, par M. Peyret, ministre de +l’Eglisse francoise de la Nouvelle York, presenté au Bâpteme par M. Claude +Baudoin et par Sa Mere</i>.” The 20th of June, 1700, being Thursday, at 6 +o’clock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span> in the evening, was born our son, Peter Faneuil, and he was +baptized the 14th of July, by Mr. Peyret, minister of the French Church, +in New York; presented in baptism, by Mr. Claude Bowdoin and its mother.</p> + +<p><i>Benjamin</i>, <i>our</i> Peter’s brother, was born Dec. 29, 1701. He was a +merchant in Boston, about the time of his uncle Andrew’s death, in 1737. +Shortly after that event, he went to England, and France, and returned, +about two years before the death of his brother Peter, in 1742-3, upon +whose estate he administered. His nephew, Edward Jones, in a letter to his +mother, June 23, 1783, informs her, that “<i>Uncle Faneuil seems to be +growing very low; I think he will not continue long</i>.” He was then in his +eighty-second year. He died in October, 1785.</p> + +<p>After Peter’s death, Benjamin resided in Brighton, then Cambridge, in the +street, which now bears the family name, where he erected an expensive +mansion, successively occupied, after his decease, by Messieurs Bethune, +English, Parkman, and Bigelow. By his wife, Mary Cutler, he had three +children, Benjamin, Mary, and Peter.</p> + +<p><i>This</i> Benjamin, nephew of <i>our</i> Peter, is the “<i>Benjamin Faneuil, +junior</i>,” whose name appears, among the signers of the “<i>Loyall Address</i>” +to Gov. Gage on his departure Oct. 6, 1775. He left Boston for Halifax, +with the British army, in March, 1776. He is the person, referred to, by +Ward, in his Memoirs of Curwen—“<i>the merchant of Boston, and with Joshua +Winslow, consignee of one third of the East India Company’s tea, destroyed +in 1773, a refugee to Halifax, afterwards in England</i>.” He married Jane, +daughter of Addington Davenport, by his first wife, Jane, who was the +daughter of Grove Hirst, and sister of the Lady Mary Pepperell; and, with +his wife, lived many years, abroad, chiefly in Bristol, England, which +became the favorite resort of many refugees, and where he died. I have, in +my possession, several of his letters, written to his relatives, during +his exile. These letters are spiritedly written; and, to the very last, in +the most perfect assurance, that the colonies must submit.</p> + +<p><i>Mary</i>, <i>our</i> Peter’s niece, became the wife of George Bethune, Oct. 13, +1754, and died in 1797. A portrait, by Blackburn, of this beautiful woman, +is in the possession of her son, George Bethune, Esquire, of Boston. After +a very careful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span> inspection of this portrait, not long ago, I went directly +to the rooms of the Historical Society, to compare it with the portrait +there of her uncle Peter, to which it seems to me to bear a strong family +resemblance. This portrait of Peter was presented to the Society, by Miss +Jones, the grand niece of <i>our</i> Peter, now the wife of Dr. Cutter of +Pepperell. It has been erroneously ascribed to Copley. If its manifest +inferiority to the works of that eminent master were not sufficiently +germaine to this question—Copley was born in 1738, and not quite five +years old, when Peter Faneuil died.</p> + +<p><i>Peter</i>, the youngest child of Benjamin, and, of course, the nephew of +<i>our</i> Faneuil Hall Peter, who may be otherwise distinguished, as Peter the +Great—was baptized, in Trinity Church, in Boston, in 1738, and entered +the Latin School, in 1746. He entered into trade—went to +Montreal—failed—resorted to the West Indies—and, after his father’s +death, returned to Boston.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXV" id="No_CXXV"></a>No. CXXV.</h2> + + +<p>Let us conclude our post mortem examination of the brothers and sisters of +Peter Faneuil.</p> + +<p><i>Francis</i>, the third son of <i>Benjamin</i>, the old Rocheller, Peter’s father, +was born Aug. 21, 1703, of whom I know nothing, beyond the fact, that he +was baptized, by M. Peyret, minister of the French church in New York, and +presented “<i>par son grand pere, Francois Bureau, et Mad’selle Anne +Delancey</i>.”</p> + +<p><i>Mary</i>, the eldest sister of <i>our</i> Peter, that came to maturity, was born +April 16, 1708, and is the <i>Marie</i>, to whom I have already referred, as +having married Mr. Gillam Phillips, Aug. 6, 1725. Their abode, before the +revolution, was in the mansion, more recently occupied by Abiel Smith, at +the corner of State and Devonshire Streets; or, as they are called, on +Bonner’s plan of 1722, King Street and Pudding Lane. Her husband was a +refugee. After his death, she resided in Cambridge, Mass., where she died, +in April, 1778.</p> + +<p><i>Anne</i>, the next, in order of time, was born Oct. 9, 1710, and married +Addington Davenport. This fact is stated, by Peter, in a letter, of Sept. +26, 1738. This is the same gentleman, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span>undoubtedly, to whom the ancient +record of King’s Chapel refers: “<i>Oct. 11, 1733. Voted, that the brass +stand for the hourglass be lent to the church at Scituate, as also three +Diaper napkins, provided the Rev. Mr. Addington Davenport, their minister, +gives his note to return the same</i>,” &c. He was, afterwards, promoted, to +be assistant minister of King’s Chapel, in 1737, and Rector of Trinity +Church, in 1740, and was, probably, the son of Addington Davenport, who +was the Register of Deeds, for Suffolk, in 1706.</p> + +<p><i>Susannah</i>, the third sister of <i>our</i> Peter, in the order of birth, was +born March 14, 1712, and became the wife of James Boutineau, the son of +Stephen Boutineau, that “<i>only surviving elder</i>,” who joined in the +conveyance of the French Church, in 1748. James was a royalist; and, +according to Ward’s Curwen, died in exile. This marriage is also referred +to, by Peter, in his letter of Sept. 26, 1738. Mr. James Boutineau was a +lawyer, in Boston; and occupied the “<i>old Dorr house</i>,” so called, in Milk +Street.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sabine, in his “American Loyalists,” says <i>his fate is unknown, but he +was in England, in 1777</i>. An original letter from his widow, “<i>Susanna +Boutineau</i>,” now before me, is dated <i>Bristol, Eng., Feb. 20, 1784</i>, and +refers to the recent decease of her husband there.</p> + +<p><i>Mary Ann</i> was the last of Peter’s sisters, that survived her infancy. She +was born April 6, 1715, and died October, 1790. She became the wife of +John Jones, who died at Roxbury, in 1767, and whose son, Edward, died in +Boston, in 1835, at the age of 83. <i>She</i> was a refugee; and resided, for +some time, in Windsor, Nova Scotia. She is omitted by Mr. Sabine, in his +list of refugees; but named by Ward, page 444. A letter, from her son, +Edward, dated at Boston, June 23, 1783, advises her, if desirous of +returning, not to come directly to Boston, as the law was still in force; +but first, to some other State, and thence to Boston.</p> + +<p>Such were Peter Faneuil’s brothers and sisters; with whom, so far as I +have been able to ascertain, from his correspondence, and from all other +sources, he appears to have maintained an amiable and becoming relation, +as the file leader of the flock—the elder brother of the house: and it +speaks a folio volume, in favor of Benjamin’s equanimity, that he +continued to fraternize, as the correspondence abundantly proves, that he +did, in the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span> cordial and affectionate manner, with his brother Peter, +to whom uncle Andrew had, with the exception of a few legacies, willed the +whole of his “<i>large and plentiful estate</i>,” as Master Lovell calls +it—while five vindictive shillings were all, that were found, after the +death of this unforgiving, old gentleman, in the mouth of poor Benjamin’s +sack.</p> + +<p>Uncle Andrew’s testamentary phraseology, though not so anathematical, as +that of some other obstinate, old uncles, is sufficiently uncivil, and +even bitter, in relation to his “loving sister, Susannah,” and his nephew, +Benjamin.</p> + +<p>But, of the will of Andrew Faneuil, and his motive—an exceedingly +preposterous motive, to be sure, for cutting his adopted nephew off, with +five shillings—in other words, of the cause, manner, and instrument, +whereby Benjamin was put in the ablative, I shall treat, more fully, +hereafter.</p> + +<p>There were collaterals of the Boston Faneuils, residing in St. Domingo, in +1738. There was then, in that island, a Benjamin Faneuil, to whom Peter +addressed a letter of mere friendship, in the French language, informing +him, that Peter’s brother Benjamin was then in Europe. It was probably a +son of the St. Domingo Benjamin, the “<i>Monsieur Fanneuil</i>,” of whom +Washington writes to the President of Congress, Feb. 20, 1777, Sparks, iv. +327, as having memorialized, for leave to raise and command troops. The +application failed, principally, on the ground of his entire ignorance of +the English language.</p> + +<p>We have seen, that Peter Faneuil died, at the early age of forty-two. His +premature decease becomes the more remarkable, when contrasted with the +longevity of all his brothers and sisters, who lived beyond the period of +infancy. Marie attained the age of seventy—Susannah was living, in +Bristol, at seventy-two—Mary Ann died at seventy-five—Benjamin died, in +October, 1735, being two months less than eighty-four years old.</p> + +<p>This veteran had been a generous liver, all his days. He was not a man, +whose devotion was abdominal—whose God was his belly. He was no +anchorite, but an advocate for social worship—he was preëminently +hospitable. For more than forty years, from the period, when Peter’s death +afforded him the means, his hospitality had been a proverb—a by-word—but +never a reproach. There was a refinement about it—it was precisely such +hospitality, as Apicius would have practised, had Apicius been a bishop.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span>His appetite never forsook him. He died suddenly—ate a cheerful dinner, +on the day of his death—and went not to his account, on an empty stomach. +A post mortem examination, under the autopsy of that eminently shrewd, and +most pleasant, gentleman, Dr. Marshall Spring of Watertown, exhibited the +whole gastric apparatus, in admirable working order, for a much longer +campaign. A nephritic malady occasioned his decease.</p> + +<p>The death of Benjamin Faneuil, <i>the elder</i>, in 1718, and the previous +adoption of his son Benjamin, Peter’s brother, by Andrew, the wealthy +Boston uncle, naturally turned the thoughts of the family, in this +direction. Their interest in Boston was necessarily increased, by the +marriage of sister Marie with Mr. Gillam Phillips, and her consequent +removal hither. The entry of the marriage—“<i>ma fille</i>”—on the family +record, shows, that her mother was then living. The time of her death I +have not ascertained, but suppose it to have occurred within a year or two +after, for all the daughters were wending hither, and I find no mention of +the mother. Peter was here, as early, as 1728, in which year, his name is +associated, with the duel, in which Woodbridge was killed. Anne had +married Mr. Davenport, and Susannah Mr. Boutineau, before uncle Andrew’s +death, in 1737. His will was dated, in 1734. From that document, it is +evident, that Mary Ann was here then.</p> + +<p>The elder Benjamin having died, in 1718,—Andrew, his brother, in +1737,—and Peter, in 1742-3, there were living Peter’s brother and +sisters, Benjamin, Anne, Susannah, Marie, and Marianne. They were living, +during the revolution. So were their husbands, excepting Mr. Addington +Davenport, who died Sept. 8, 1746. Their children also were living. The +object of this particular statement is to invite the reader’s attention to +the extraordinary fact, that, while a religious persecution, in 1685, +drove the Huguenot ancestors of these very individuals hither, for +security—in 1776, a political persecution here drove many of their +descendants into exile, and confiscated their estates.</p> + +<p>That very many of those refugees, during the phrensy of political +excitement, were just as truly persecuted, for conscience’ sake, as were +the Huguenots, in 1685, is a simple truth, which the calm, impartial voice +of an after-age has been willing to concede. Among those refugees, the +Huguenot and the old Anglo-Saxon patronymics are blended together. The +Boutineaus and the Bethunes, the Faneuils and the Johonnots are mingled +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span> the Sewalls and the Hutchinsons, the Hollowells and the Paxtons.</p> + +<p>While perusing the letters of Samuel Curwen—and a most kind-hearted, +conscientious, old gentleman was he—the veriest saint in crape cannot +restrain a smile, as he contemplates the conflict, in Curwen’s mind, +between the loyal and the patriotic—<i>his most gracious majesty, and his +poor bleeding country</i>! Mr. Curwen met frequently with Mr. Benjamin +Faneuil, Peter’s nephew, at Bristol. Thus, on page 240, of the Journal, +under date, April 28, 1780—“<i>Afternoon and evening at Judge Sewall’s; +company, Mrs. Long, of Ireland, Mr. and Mrs. Faneuil, Mr. Oxnard, with +young Inman and his wife, a son of Ralph’s, in the military line, and Miss +Inman</i>.”</p> + +<p>The more intelligent of the refugees, who resorted to Bristol, hovered +about the former Attorney General of Massachusetts, Jonathan Sewall, as +their <i>Magnus Apollo</i>. Of all the New England tories he was the most +illustrious. He was a man of eminent talents, and easy eloquence. His +opinions were the opinions of the rest. As crowed the great tory cock, so +crowed the bantams, the Faneuils, the Boutineaus, and the others, around +the Attorney General’s hospitable board, at Bristol. I mean not to +intimate, that this worthy gentleman maintained, at this period, anything, +beyond the most frugal hospitality. He and his associates were mainly +dependent upon the British government, for their daily bread.</p> + +<p>One or two extracts from the letters of “<i>Benjamin Faneuil junior</i>,” +Peter’s nephew, while they establish this fact, may serve to exhibit the +confidence, in the entire subjugation of the colonies, +entertained—<i>cherished</i>, perhaps—by him and his companions.</p> + +<p>March 9, 1777, he writes to his aunt, Mary Ann Jones, at Halifax, thus—“I +cannot say I am very sorry, for your disappointment, in missing your +passage for England, for unless you could bring a barrel of guineas, you +are much better anywhere than here.” * * * * “As soon as the Christmas +holidays were over, we presented a petition to the Lords of the Treasury, +setting forth our suffering, and praying for a support, till the affairs +in America are settled. This method was taken, by the council, and indeed +by all the refugees. Within these few days, the Lords of the Treasury have +agreed to allow, for the present, Chief Justice Oliver £400 a year, Lieut. +Governor Oliver and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span> Mr. Flucker £300. The council (Mr. Boutineau among +the rest) £200, the refugees in general £100, some only £50. Our affair is +not yet absolutely determined, on account of Lord North’s sickness; but we +are told we shall be tuckt in, between the council and the refugees, and +be allowed £150 a year. This is a very poor affair, and we can by no means +live upon it: but there are such a confounded parcel of us, to be provided +for, that I am told no more will be allowed.” * * * * “Should there be any +opportunity of writing to Boston, I should take it kind, if cousin Betsey +would write to my father and let him know what I now write, and give our +loves to Mr. Bethune’s family, and my aunt Phillips. I do not mention my +poor mother, as, from the accounts I have received, I doubt, whether she +be alive at this time.” She died in October, 1777.</p> + +<p>“When we shall be able to return to Boston I cannot say; but hope and +believe it will not exceed one year more; for, sooner or later, America +will be conquered, and on that they may depend.”</p> + +<p>May 14, 1777. He writes from London thus—“We were promised, three months +ago, that some provision should be made for us; and, about ten days since, +we were assured, at the Treasury, that, in a very few days, something +should be done for us. As soon as there is, we propose to set out for +Bristol, and fix ourselves there, or, at least, in that part of the +country, till the American affairs are settled, which, from the last +advice from New York, we flatter ourselves will not be longer than this +year; though I am not without my doubts, at least as to the time: but +submit they must, sooner or later. Mr. Boutineau and my aunt were very +well, at their lodging, at Bristol, a few days ago. Mr. Robinson has +bought himself a new post chaise, horses, &c., and sets out for Wales, in +five or six days; where, I suppose, they will remain, till the American +affairs are brought to a conclusion.”</p> + +<p>This Mr. Robinson was James Boutineau’s son-in-law, the officer of the +customs, who inflicted that fatal blow, upon James Otis, which is said to +have affected his brain, and compelled him to retire from public life. The +issue of that affair is not generally known. Mr. Sabine, in his “American +Loyalists,” p. 169, says—“the jury assessed £2000 sterling, damages. +Boutineau appeared, as attorney, for Robinson, and, in his name, signed a +submission, asking the pardon of Otis, who, thereupon, executed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span> a free +release for the £2000.” The same statement may be found in Allen, and +elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Mr. Benjamin Faneuil, junior, continues thus—“Mrs. Faneuil received a +letter, a few days since, from Mrs. Erving (at Bristol). She sends her the +prices of provisions, which are much the same they were in Boston, before +the troubles came on. * * * * Miss Peggy Hutchinson has been at death’s +door. * * * * All the rest of us Yankees are well, but growl at each other +most confoundedly, for want of money.” * * * * “We hope to see you in +Boston, in the course of another year.” * * * * “Mrs. Faneuil is sitting +by me, trying to transmography an old gown. No money to buy new.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXVI" id="No_CXXVI"></a>No. CXXVI.</h2> + + +<p>To some persons it has appeared a mystery, how Peter Faneuil, having had +but a short lease of life, some two and forty years, should have acquired +the “<i>large and plentiful estate</i>,” that Master Lovell speaks of, in his +funeral oration. This mystery is readily explained. He had, for several +years, before the death of his uncle, Andrew, been engaged in commerce. As +Master Lovell justly observes—“No man managed his affairs with greater +prudence and industry.” His commercial correspondence proves that his +relations were extensive and diversified, though it must be admitted, that +<i>rum, fish, sugar and molasses</i>, are the chorus, or burden, of the song. +It will also appear, that the <i>large and plentiful estate</i>, was, probably +overrated.</p> + +<p>Though he had a high sense of commercial honor, no man had a sharper eye +for the main chance, as it is called, by money getting men. Let me +illustrate both these positions, by extracts—not from “<i>Peter’s letters +to his kinsfolks</i>,” but from Peter’s letters to his correspondents. He +repeatedly scolds Signor Miguel Pacheco de Silva, and Monsieur Sigal, +severely, for inattention to his drafts. To S. & W. Baker, of London, who, +by reason of the informality of a power to transfer stock, were unsupplied +with funds, to meet his drafts, yet paid them, for the honor of the +drawer; he writes a letter of cordial thanks, Sept. 7, 1737, in which he +says—“<i>I would not for £500 you had not accepted all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span> those drafts; for, +if you had not, it would have been a slur to my character, which I value +more than all the money upon earth</i>.”</p> + +<p>January 22, 1738, he requests Mr. Peter Baynton to advise him, on several +points—“<i>also what good French brandy is worth, and if it be possible to +cloak it so, as to ship it for rum</i>.” On the 13th of March, in the same +year, he writes Mr. Peter Baynton, that he has sent him four hogsheads of +brandy, and adds—“<i>Pray be as cautious as possible, in taking them on +shore, by reason the man has signed bills of lading, for four hogsheads +rum, not knowing the contents, which it is not convenient he should</i>.”</p> + +<p>What a goodly number will openly pronounce Peter a very bad fellow, who, +if they have not done this identical thing, have done things, quite as +exceptionable, or more so, and who are willing to—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Compound for sins they are inclined to,<br /> +By damning those they have no mind to.”</p> + +<p>Merchant princes, if I am rightly instructed, do not place the offence of +cheating the Government, in the category of cardinal, or unpardonable, +sins. And, notwithstanding all, that we so frequently hear, of commercial +integrity, and the chivalry of trade; I rather doubt, upon the whole, if +traffic is really the “<i>ne plus ultra strap</i>,” upon which the very finest +possible edge can be given to the moral sense. Exceptions there are, but +they only establish, more fully, the general rule: and, in accordance with +the spirit of the old, prudential legend, we are rather too much in the +habit of postponing prayers, till we have sanded the sugar, and watered +the molasses. I have long entertained the opinion, that a cheap <i>vade +mecum</i> edition of Dr. Chalmers’ Commercial Discourses, for New Year’s +gifts, might be very beneficially distributed.</p> + +<p>Exceptions certainly there are. I have one, within my own memory. The +collector of a Southern port—a Huguenot withal—of whom my personal +recollections are exceedingly agreeable, and whose integrity was a +proverb, was surprised one day, upon his return, at the dinner hour, by +the display of a costly service of plate, which his lady had procured from +London. A few inquiries developed the fact, that, by the agency of a +gentleman, a friend of the family, it had been gotten over, with <i>his</i> +baggage, duty free—in other words, <i>smuggled</i>. In an instant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span> the old +gentleman ordered his wife’s whole service of silver to the public stores; +and seized it for the government. Such cases, I apprehend, are not of +frequent occurrence.</p> + +<p>If Peter Faneuil made not broad his phylactery, he made broad that mantle +of charity, which covereth a multitude of sins. If such had not been the +fact, and notoriously so, Master Lovell would not have ventured to +proclaim, in Faneuil Hall, one hundred and eight years ago, and before a +scanty population, as cognizant, as the population of a village, of all +the shortcomings of their neighbors that—</p> + +<p>“<i>Peter’s acts of charity were so secret and unbounded, that none but they +who were the objects of it could compute the sums, which he annually +distributed</i>”—that “<i>his alms flowed, like a fruitful river</i>”—that “<i>he +fed the hungry, clothed the naked, comforted the fatherless, and the +widows in their affliction, and his bounty visited the prisoner. So that +Almighty God, in giving riches to this man, seems to have scattered +blessings all abroad among the people</i>”—that the building “<i>erected by +him at an immense charge, for the convenience and ornament of the town, is +incomparably the greatest benefaction ever yet known to our Western +shoar</i>”—that this act of munificence, however great, “<i>is but the first +fruits of his generosity, a pledge of what his heart, always devising +liberal things, would have done for us, had his life been spared</i>.” To all +this good Master Lovell adds the assertion—“<i>I am well assured from +those, who were acquainted with his purposes, that he had many more +blessings in store for us, had Heaven prolonged his days</i>.”</p> + +<p>These statements, publicly pronounced, one hundred and eight years ago, +have never been gainsayed, nor even qualified. They must therefore be +viewed, in the light of an ancient deposition, read before the grand +inquest of the whole people, before whom Peter Faneuil was tried, shortly +after his decease, according to the fashion of the Egyptians, while +dealing with their departed kings.</p> + +<p>I, by no means, approve of Peter’s conduct, in jostling the Government, +out of the excise, on a few casks of brandy; but, in full view of all +these public and private charities, there seems to be something about it, +like the gallantry of Robin Hood, whose agrarian philosophy taught him to +rob the rich, and feed the poor. And, when the trial comes on, in the +Higher Court, about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span> duties upon these four hogsheads of brandy; and +Peter Baynton is summoned to testify; and, upon his evidence, Peter +Faneuil is convicted; most truly, do I believe, that some good natured +angel, will slyly draw, over the record, a corner of that broad mantle of +gold and tissue—that mantle of charity—whose warp and woof were formed +of private alms and public benefactions, and which good Peter Faneuil +spent so many of his hours, in weaving, in this lower world.</p> + +<p>If Peter Faneuil was otherwise an offender, I am sorry for it; having a +passion for rarities, I should like to behold the <i>tabula immaculata</i>—the +unsullied sheet of one human being! I am not aware of anything, in the +life of Peter Faneuil, which that mantle will not abundantly cover.</p> + +<p>It may be otherwise. If the schoolmaster is not always abroad, the +antiquarian is—the moral virtuoso—who delights, metaphorically speaking, +to find spots on snow, and specks in amber. This species of antiquarian, +male or female, may be found in every city and village. It is a curious +creature, and, in the cabinet of a malicious memory, has stowed carefully +away the weak points, and the peccadilloes of the living and the dead. In +its contracted receptacle, there is no room for public or private +charities, nor for merits of any kind: it is capable of holding nothing +but delinquencies.</p> + +<p>Nothing is more refreshing to this species of antiquarian, than any fair +pretence, for opening his cabinet, and showing his precious collection. +Nollikens, among his <i>terra cottas</i>, was not more adroit, in fitting the +heads and members of Priapi to the trunks of fauns and satyrs, than is the +ingenious character, of whom I speak, in adapting the legendary gossip, +which has been told, till it is stale, of one individual, to the person of +another. Such personages are, characteristically, selfish and ungenerous. +It would not be a very notable miracle, if some person, of this +description, pained and offended, by the trying contrast, between the +munificent and charitable career of Peter Faneuil, and the extremely dry +and unprofitable character of his own existence, should ransack the +charnel-house of his memory, for some offensive offset, against Master +Lovell’s laudation of Peter.</p> + +<p>For this I can truly vouch, excepting that affair of the brandy, the +commercial correspondence of Peter Faneuil—and I have read the whole +volume, that remains, French and English—is highly honorable to the head +and the heart of the writer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span>The charity of Peter Faneuil was not that clap-trap munificence, examples +of which are frequently heralded, among us, in demi-stipendiary +journals—it did not so truly <i>spring</i>—it <i>oozed</i> from Peter’s warm +heart, continually, and constitutionally. He required no impressive hints, +to be charitable—he <i>felt</i> for the poor and needy, habitually. His letter +of Sept. 19, 1738, is before me, to one of his commercial correspondents, +to whom he has just then made a shipment, Mons. Thomas Bayeaux—“Inclosed +you have Madame Guinneau’s account, by which you are indebted to that poor +widow £16, which you will do well to pay her, it being for money she +advanced, for the board of you and your family. One would have thought you +should have paid that, before you left the country, and not to have served +the poor widow as you did.”</p> + +<p>However direct, and even severe, while addressing delinquents, his French +politeness never forsakes him. Such letters always conclude—“<i>Sir, I +salute you</i>,” or “<i>I kiss your hand</i>.”</p> + +<p>April 24, 1740, he writes thus to Peter Baynton—“This accompanies Capt. +Burgess Hall, who carries with him to your parts two unfortunate Palatine +women, that were some time ago shipwrecked, in their voyage from Europe to +your place, who, being objects of charity, which the providence of God has +thrown in our way, I take leave to recommend to you, as such, not doubting +you will so far commisserate their condition, as to direct them the +nearest way, to get among their friends, with such other relief as you may +think necessary.”</p> + +<p>Though Peter Faneuil had acquired property, before the death of his uncle +Andrew; yet, as we shall presently see, by far the larger part of his +“<i>large and plentiful estate</i>” came to him, by that uncle’s will.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXVII" id="No_CXXVII"></a>No. CXXVII.</h2> + + +<p>Peter Faneuil was thirty and seven years old, when he began to reign—that +is, when his uncle, Andrew, died, Feb. 13, 1737, according to Peter, in +his letter to the Bakers, of London, or 1738, agreeably to the historical +style, adopted by the public journals. In the News Letter of February “16, +to 23,” we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span> have the following account of the funeral.—“Last Monday the +Corpse of <i>Andrew Faneuil</i> Esquire, whose death we mentioned in our last, +was honorably interr’d here; above 1100 Persons, of all Ranks, besides the +Mourners, following the Corpse, also a vast number of Spectators were +gathered together on the Occasion, at which time the half-minute guns, +from on board several vessels, were discharged. And ’tis suppos’d that as +this Gentleman’s Fortune was the greatest of any among us, so his funeral +was as generous and expensive as any that has been known here.”</p> + +<p>Peter was appointed executor sole of Andrew’s will, and residuary legatee. +He appears to have proceeded with great propriety. He immediately +announced his uncle’s death to foreign correspondents; and furnished +those, who had been custodiers of his property, with duly authenticated +copies of the will; and took prompt measures, for the procurement of “<i>the +handsomest mourning rings</i>.”</p> + +<p>John, Archbishop of Canterbury, as was usual then, sent his commission to +Judge Willard, from the Prerogative Court, to swear Peter, to render a +true inventory, &c.; and Peter responded to John, that, although he was +not bound so to do, by the laws of the Province, yet, for his “<i>own +satisfaction</i>,” he should. Peter probably changed his mind, for no +inventory of Andrew’s estate appears, among the ancient records of the +Probate Court, in Suffolk. It is not, therefore, possible, to estimate the +value of that “<i>large and plentiful estate</i>,” which came to Peter, from +his uncle. That it was very considerable, for the times, there cannot be a +doubt; but the times—one hundred and fourteen years ago—were the days of +small things.</p> + +<p>It has been observed, by an eminent man, that prayer and almsgiving are +the pathways to Paradise. Andrew Faneuil commences his will, with a +supplication, for the <i>perfecting of his charities</i>—“<i>I commit my soul to +God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, humbly begging the pardon of my +sins, the perfecting of my charities, and everlasting life above</i>.” This +will was made, Sept. 12, 1734, and witnessed, by John Read, William Price +and Charles Morris; and a codicil was added, Jan. 23, 1737; and both were +proved, Feb. 15, 1737, two days after the testator’s death.</p> + +<p>Wills have ever been accounted an interesting department of <i>belles +lettres</i>; and I shall therefore furnish the reader with an abstract of +Uncle Andrew’s.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521]</a></span><i>First.</i> He gives his warehouse in Boston, in trust, to the minister of +the French Church, in Boston, and his successors; two thirds of the income +for the minister’s support, and one third to the elders, to create a fund +for repairing the warehouse; and after the creation of such fund, the +whole income to the minister; and, should the French church cease to be, +then said warehouse to revert to his heirs—“<i>excluding Benjamin Faneuil, +of Boston, and the heirs of his body forever</i>.”</p> + +<p><i>Secondly.</i> To said French Church, three pieces of plate, of the value of +£36 sterling, “<i>a flaggon for the communion table, a plate for the bread, +and a bason to christen the children, with the coat of arms and name of +the donor, engraven upon each of them</i>.” On the 27th of February, fourteen +days after his uncle’s death, Peter sent a copy of the will to Claude +Fonnereau, in France, requesting him to purchase the plate, and +added—“<i>of the best fashion, and get engraved, agreeably to his orders, +for which end you have his coat of arms in wax herewith, and if it should +cost some small matter more, be pleased to charge the same</i>.”</p> + +<p><i>Thirdly.</i> £100, in Province Bills, to be paid to the elders, for the poor +of the French Church.</p> + +<p><i>Fourthly.</i> £50, in Province bills, and “<i>a suit of mourning throughout</i>,” +to the French minister.</p> + +<p><i>Fifthly.</i> £100, in Province bills, to the overseers, for the poor of +Boston.</p> + +<p><i>Sixthly.</i> To the Rev. Benjamin Colman, “<i>a suit of mourning throughout</i>.”</p> + +<p><i>Seventhly.</i> “To my loving brother, John Faneuil, of Rochelle, £100, +sterling.”</p> + +<p><i>Eighthly.</i> “To my loving brother-in-law, Peter Cossart, of Cork, in +Ireland, and his sister Susannah Cossart, of Amsterdam, £50 each to buy +mourning.”</p> + +<p><i>Ninthly.</i> “To Benjamin Faneuil of Boston, son of my brother, Benjamin +Faneuil, deceased, <i>five shillings and no more</i>.”</p> + +<p><i>Tenthly.</i> To his executor, in trust, 8000 ounces of silver, or pieces of +eight, to purchase an estate of inheritance, at his discretion, within one +year after the testator’s death, for his loving niece, Mary, wife of +Gillam Phillips, and the heirs of her body, remainder to her right heirs. +Peter, in correspondence with S. & W. Baker, refers to this purchase, and +directs them to sell stocks of his late uncles, to meet the drafts.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522]</a></span><i>Eleventhly</i>. To her son, Andrew, 500 ounces of silver, or pieces of +eight, to be put at interest, till majority—to his mother, in case of his +death before—and, in case of <i>her</i> death and <i>his</i> before—to her other +children.</p> + +<p><i>Twelfthly, thirteenthly, and fourteenthly.</i> To his nieces, Anne, +Susannah, and Marian, £2000 sterling, each; the two first to be paid six +months, after his death, and the last, at majority, or marriage; four per +cent. to be allowed her, per annum, ad interim, and she to be maintained +by the executor, till she attained full age, or married. These legacies +were paid from the funds of Uncle Andrew, in the hands of S. & W. Baker, +of London.</p> + +<p><i>Fifteenthly.</i> To his loving sister, Susannah F., widow of Abraham de la +Croix, of Rochelle, £1000 sterling.</p> + +<p><i>Sixteenthly.</i> To his servant maid, <i>Hendrine Boyltins</i>, who probably +came, with the family, from Holland, “<i>a suit of mourning throughout</i>,” +and 500 ounces of silver, in pieces of eight, or the value, in Province +bills, at her election.</p> + +<p><i>Seventeenthly.</i> To Henry Johnson, her son, who became the confidential +clerk of Peter Faneuil, 150 ounces, in pieces of eight, to be paid, at +majority.</p> + +<p><i>Eighteenthly.</i> “I give, bequeath, and devise all the rest of my estate, +both real and personal, whatsoever and wheresoever ’tis, in New England, +Great Britain, France, Holland, or any other part of the world, to my +loving nephew, <span class="smcap">Peter Faneuil</span>, eldest son of my late brother, Benjamin +Faneuil, to hold to him and his heirs forever.”</p> + +<p>He then appoints Peter, sole executor.</p> + +<p>The codicil revokes the legacy to his <i>loving</i> sister, the widow Susannah +de la Croix, of Rochelle—“my mind and my will is, that my said sister, +Susannah F., shall not have the said thousand pounds, <i>nor any part of +it</i>.”</p> + +<p>The severity of these five last words—and the phrase, in relation to his +nephew—“<i>excluding Benjamin Faneuil of Boston, and the heirs of his body +forever</i>;” and those final words of the ninth clause, by which the +testator cuts off poor Benjamin, with “<i>five shillings and no more</i>,” are +sufficiently piquant. Well may such an <i>avunculus Hector</i> commence his +last will, with a fervent supplication to “God, the Father, Son, and Holy +Ghost,” for <i>the perfecting of his charities</i>.</p> + +<p>How the widow, Susannah, came to lose her thousand pounds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523]</a></span> I do not know. +Something, that she said or did, or did not say or do, was wafted, all the +way over the water, from Rochelle, no doubt, and came to the old +gentleman’s irritable ears, and roused his ire.</p> + +<p>But I well comprehend the occasion, upon which he came to disinherit his +nephew, Benjamin Faneuil. My female readers have already arrived at the +conclusion, doubtless, that Benjamin so far forgot himself, and his duty +to his opulent, old uncle, as to fall in love without asking his +permission. Well: they are perfectly right—such was the fact. Benjamin +fell in love. He was determined not to be found, like tinkling brass, even +at the hazard of losing the good will, and the gold of his uncle +Andrew—so he fell in love. And, if the girl of his heart resembled her +daughter, <i>Mary Faneuil</i>, as she is represented by Blackburn, how the poor +fellow could have helped it, God only knows.</p> + +<p>There is nothing, in all Amboyna, more spicy, than this little incident, +in the history of the Faneuils; and, having spoilt it, perhaps, by this +<i>avant courier</i>, I will now venture to tell the story; premising, that it +was far better told, by the lady, who related it to me, and who is a +lineal descendant of Benjamin, himself.</p> + +<p>To give proper effect to this little episode, I must take the reader to a +pretty village, as it was just then beginning to be, one hundred and fifty +years ago, on the banks of the Hudson, some twenty miles, only, from the +city of New York. There, the persecuted Huguenots gathered together, and +planted their new home, their <i>New Rochelle</i>. Almost immediately after his +marriage with Anne Bureau, in 1699, at Narragansett, Benjamin Faneuil +rejoined his Huguenot friends, and fellow-townsmen, in <i>New Rochelle</i>; and +there his children were born. <i>New Rochelle</i>, as I have stated, was the +birth-place of <span class="smcap">Peter Faneuil</span>.</p> + +<p>Andrew, having arrived in Boston from Holland, very soon after the +beginning of the eighteenth century; having buried his wife; and being +childless, selected Benjamin, the second son of his brother, Benjamin +Faneuil, as an object of particular regard. The boy, was, accordingly, +transferred from New Rochelle to Boston. He was educated, and brought up, +under his patron’s eye; and was considered, by the world, as the heir +apparent of his opulent uncle. As he grew up, towards man’s estate, it +would have been an unheard of circumstance, if the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524]</a></span> dowagers of Shawmut, +with their marriageable daughters, had not fixed their hopeful eyes, upon +young Benjamin, if it were only for the sake of whatever might be found, +sooner or later, in the mouth of his sack. It would have been a miracle, +if their exhibitions of regard, for the young man, had not visibly +increased; and their fears had not been frequently and feelingly +expressed, lest that excellent, old gentleman, Andrew Faneuil Esquire, had +taken cold.</p> + +<p>A patron is rather too prone to look upon a <i>protégé</i>, as a puppet. The +idea, that Benjamin could be led astray, however tempting the provocation, +to commit the crime of matrimony, however lawful and right, however +accomplished, and virtuous, and lovely the object, without leave, first +had and obtained, from him, at whose board he ate his daily bread, never +occurred to Uncle Andrew, for an instant. He supposed, of course, that he +had the key to Benjamin’s soul. It never occurred to the old gentleman, +whose courtship was carried on, in Holland, that falling in love was +precisely as much of an accident, as falling into the fire, or into the +water.</p> + +<p>Well: Benjamin was an intelligent young man; and he was admirably posted +up, upon the subject of his uncle’s opinions, and prejudices. +Nevertheless, he fell in love, very emphatically; and with a girl, as +pretty, doubtless, as she was poor. He knew, that his uncle would never +consent to such a marriage. But he knew, that he had plighted his troth; +and he clearly saw, since he must run the hazard of breaking <i>one</i> heart, +or <i>two</i>, that it would be rather more equitable to risk the old +gentleman’s, instead of the girl’s and his own.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, Benjamin secretly took unto himself a lawful wife; and, for a +while, though Benjamin was, doubtless, much the happier, Uncle Andrew was +nothing the wiser. However strange it may appear, though there were no +giants, there were mischievous women, in those days. One of this category, +in an evil hour, like a toad, as she was, whispered the secret, into the +ear of Uncle Andrew.</p> + +<p>The old Huguenot was not of the melting mood. The conduct of his nephew +produced not grief, but anger. It reached no tender spot, in the recesses +of his heart, but chafed the old man’s pericardium, till it drew a blister +there. He bottled up his wrath, and corked it well; that the offender +might have the full benefit of the fermentation, when the old gentleman +came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525]</a></span> to pour the contents of the vial, on the devoted head of his +unsuspecting nephew.</p> + +<p>The following morning, they met, at the breakfast table. The meal passed, +as usual. But with what feelings must that old man have contemplated the +poor fellow, the boy of his adoption, whom he was about to prostrate, as +he finished the last mouthful he was ever to partake at that board! The +repast was finished.—A brief colloquy ensued—“<i>I hear you are +married</i>”—“<i>Yes, uncle, I am</i>”—“<i>Then you will leave my house</i>.” The +young man instantly took his departure. They never met again, until years +had passed away,—and then, in that place, where there is no work nor +device. There they lie, in the Faneuil tomb, in the Granary Ground; the +unforgiving uncle and the disinherited nephew, side by side. Benjamin +Faneuil died, at his residence in Brighton, in October, 1785, and was +buried, in the family vault.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXVIII" id="No_CXXVIII"></a>No. CXXVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Notwithstanding the “<i>large and plentiful estate</i>,” which Peter Faneuil +derived from his uncle’s will, it is my opinion, that his munificence, his +unbounded charities, his hospitalities, his social, genial temperament +were such, that, had he lived a much longer life, he would have died a +much poorer man. Almost immediately, upon the death of his uncle, it is +manifest, from his letters, that certain magnificent fancies came over the +spirit of his waking dreams. And it is equally certain, that, +subsequently, he had occasional misgivings, as to the just relation +between his means and his prospective arrangements, which, for the times, +and upon our little peninsula, were sufficiently expanded.</p> + +<p>Feb. 27, 1737, fourteen days after his uncle’s death, he announced that +event to his commercial friends, Messrs. S. & W. Baker of London; +prescribed the arrangement of funds, for the payment of legacies; and +instructed them to honor his draft, in favor of James Pope & Company, of +Madeira, in payment for five pipes of wine.</p> + +<p>Four days after, on the first of March, he writes Pope & Company +thus—“Send me, by the very first opportunity, for this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[Pg 526]</a></span> place, five pipes +of your very best Madeira wine, of an amber color, of the same sort, which +you sent to our good friend, De Lancey, of New York.”</p> + +<p>He directs them to draw on the Bakers of London, and adds—“As this wine +is for the use of my house, I hope you will be careful, that I have the +best. I am not over fond of the strongest. I am to inform you, that my +uncle, Mr. Andrew Faneuil, departed this life, the 13 current, and was +interred the 20, for which God prepare all his friends. I shall expect to +hear from you, by the first opportunity.”</p> + +<p>Feb. 27, 1737, the same day, on which he writes the Bakers, he addresses +Lane & Smethurst, of London, as follows—“Be so good as to send me a +handsome chariot with two sets of harness, with the arms, as enclosed, on +the same, in the handsomest manner, that you shall judge proper, but at +the same time nothing gaudy: and send me also, well recommended, two sober +men, the one, for a coachman the other a gardener; and agree with the +same, to be paid either in London, quarterly, or here, allowing for the +exchange of the money, which they shall choose. And, as most servants from +Europe, when here, are too apt to be debauched with strong drink, rum, +&c., being very plenty, I pray your particular care in this article.”</p> + +<p>On the 6th of March, he writes Gulian Verplanck, of New York—“Send me the +pipe of wine, having none good to drink.” Again, March 20—“By the first +good opportunity the best pipe of wine you can purchase.” On the 25th of +April, he acknowledges the receipt of the wine from Verplanck—“The wine I +hope will prove good—comes in very good time, there being none good in +town.”</p> + +<p>On the 22d of May, he writes the Bakers, for a bountiful supply of glass +and China, and for “enough of the best scarlet cloth to trim a cloak:” +and, in September of that year, for silver spoons and “silver forks with +three prongs, with my arms cut upon them: let them be made very neat and +handsome.” Shortly after, he writes for several pairs of silver +candlesticks, “with my arms engraved thereon,” and sends out a piece of +wax candle, as a pattern of the size.</p> + +<p>On the 1st of January, 1738, he writes Lane & Smethurst, to send him a +pair of spectacles, “for a person of 50 years, as also, for the use of my +kitchen, the latest, best book of the several sorts of cookery, which pray +let be of the largest <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[Pg 527]</a></span>character, for the benefit of the maid’s reading.” +As Peter then was not quite thirty-eight years of age, the spectacles were +probably for “the maid,” to enable her to master “the <i>best book</i> of the +several sorts of cookery.”</p> + +<p>Dec. 20, 1738, he writes for “four stone horses.” On the 18th of September +of that year, he writes Thomas Kilby—“Pray don’t forget the larding pins, +wine, and sweetmeats, which I have wrote you about before.” He frequently +writes to his friend Verplanck, for “Albany horses.”</p> + +<p>In a brief sketch of Brighton, published in 1850, it is stated that +Peter’s “<i>large and heavy silver punch bowl</i>” is in the possession of +George Bethune, Esquire, of this city. This is an error. Peter’s punch +bowl came into the possession of James Lovell, who married a +grand-daughter of Benjamin Faneuil, a sister of Mr. Bethune; and it is now +in the possession of Mr. Lovell’s descendants.</p> + +<p>Oh, if that “<i>large and heavy silver punch bowl</i>” could speak out, in good +French or English, what glorious tales it would tell of Peter, in all his +glory, enjoying, as Master Lovell says, “<i>that divine satisfaction, which +results from communicating happiness to others</i>”—around that preëminently +hospitable board, where, in the language of the writer of the obituary, in +the News Letter of March 10, 1743—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Divites ac parvi gustârunt dulcia mensæ.”</p> + +<p>Peter’s punch bowl was not at all like Oliver’s “<i>broken teacups, wisely +kept for show</i>.” June 22, 1741, some twenty months before his death, he +writes Lane & Smethurst, to send him “<i>six gross of the very best London +King Henry’s Cards, and six half chests of lemons, for my house winter +supply</i>.”</p> + +<p>Let not the reader surmise, for all this, that Peter had denied his Lord, +or was exclusively absorbed in his care for creature comforts. March 5, +1738, he writes the Bakers, to send him “four handsome, large, octavo, +Common Prayer Books, of a good letter and well bound, with one of the +same, in French, for my own use.”</p> + +<p>March 13, 1738, he writes John Depuister, to send him “six of the largest +bearskins, and two large, fine, well painted beaver coats, to use in a +slay.”</p> + +<p>It is, in no sense, discreditable to Peter Faneuil, that his +correspondence shows him to have been exceedingly partial to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[Pg 528]</a></span> sweetmeats +and citron water. Nor does it lower him, in my humble esteem, that his +letters clearly indicate his temperament to have been somewhat irritable +and fiery. I have found such to be the case, almost ever, when generosity, +frankheartedness, and a noble spirit are blended together, as closely as +they were, in the character of Peter Faneuil. The converse of this +position, to be sure, it is not easy to maintain.</p> + +<p>It is quite amusing, to contemplate, now and then, in men, whose brains +are brim full of magnificent purposes, and whose habitual dealings are +with tens and hundreds of thousands—a remarkable concentration of thought +and care, upon some one insignificant item of property, which is in +jeopardy of falling into naught. It is, doubtless, the spirit of the +woman, who lighted her candle and swept the house, and called her +neighbors together, to rejoice with her, over the recovery of that one +piece of silver.</p> + +<p>A brief episode will exhibit this trait, in Peter’s character, and show, +at the same time, that his spirit was perfectly placable. Some time before +his death, Uncle Andrew, being aware, that pulmonic affections were +benefited, by the air of the tropics, consigned a broken-winded horse to +Mr. Joseph Ward, of Barbadoes, for sale. No account having been rendered, +the fate of the old horse appears to have become a subject of exciting +interest, with the residuary legatee. Before he writes to Ward, he +addresses three letters of inquiry, in other directions. He then opens +upon Mr. Joseph Ward, Jan. 12, 1738. I give the entire letter, as +illustrative of Peter’s character—“I have been very much surprised, that, +ever since the death of Captain Allen, you have not advised me of the sale +of a horse, belonging to my deceased uncle, left in your hands by him, +which I am informed you sold for a very good price, and I am now to +request the favor you would send me the net proceeds, with a fair and just +account for the same, in sweetmeats and citron water; your compliance with +which will stop me from giving some of my friends the trouble of calling +you to an account there. I shall be glad to know, if Captain Allen did not +leave a silver watch and some fish, belonging to a servant of mine, with +some person of your island, and with who. I expect your speedy answer.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Ward appears to have responded, more calmly, than tropical gentlemen +commonly do, when accosted in this piquant style. He sent his account, and +Peter was manifestly mollified, by a box<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[Pg 529]</a></span> of sweetmeats. Mr. Ward, +however, complained of Peter’s want of grace. March 24, 1738, Peter wrote +to Mr. Ward—“Yours of 7 February, with the account sales of a horse, left +by Captain Allen, accompanying a box sweetmeats I received, in which I +observe you refer to my former, which you are pleased to look upon as in +too unhandsome a stile. I must own it was not in so soft terms, as I +sometimes make use of; but, at that time, I really thought the state of +the case required it, not having heard anything to be depended upon, +concerning the horse in dispute, either if he was dead, sold, or run away; +upon either of which, I presumed the common complaisance, if not honor, +among merchants, might have entitled either my uncle, in his lifetime, or +myself, after his decease, to some advice at least. I had indeed +transiently heard here you had kept him, for your own use, but had +undervalued him, which, in some measure prest my writing you on that head, +&c. I thank you for your speedy answer, and am, with return of your own +compliment, as much as you are mine,” &c.</p> + +<p>March 6, 1737.—Peter informs M. Isaac Beauchamp, that, he, Peter, has +been empowered, by his Excellency, M. Brouillan, Governor of Cape Breton, +to call him to account and says—“I am now to let you know, that out of +honor and of the regards I have ever had to that gentleman, I am obliged +to see some honorable issue made to that affair, for which reason I shall +be glad you will advise me, after what manner you propose to satisfye the +gentleman or me, without forcing violente means.” This affair was +occasioned, by a dispute, about tobacco, and ended in smoke.</p> + +<p>One brief illustration more. April 6, 1738, he complains to Captain +Greenou of certain ill usage and says—“You may see what handsome parcell +of protested bills I must pay. If this be the honor of you Ragon men, God +deliver me from them, for the future. I would not take their word for a +groat &c. These pretended gentlemen think I will tamely sit down by their +unhandsome usage, but they will find themselves very much mistaken,” &c.</p> + +<p>Many years ago, while standing by the artist, as he was working up, from +the old portrait, belonging to the Historical Society, the lineaments of +Peter, as he is represented, in Faneuil Hall, we agreed, that his +temperament must have been choleric. He had that conformation of body, +which hints of apoplexy. John,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[Pg 530]</a></span> his uncle, the Rocheller, died of that +disease; and Peter, as Master Lovell inform us, died <i>suddenly</i>. He +belonged not to any total abstinence society. And though there is no +evidence, nor the slightest suspicion, that he fell below that standard of +gentlemanly temperance, which was in vogue, among those, who were given to +hospitality, in our peninsula, one hundred years ago—yet I have not any +reasonable doubt, that Peter would have lived longer, had it been the +pleasure of his uncle Andrew to have disinherited <i>him</i>, instead of <i>his +brother Benjamin</i>.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXIX" id="No_CXXIX"></a>No. CXXIX.</h2> + + +<p>Peter Faneuil was an affectionate brother. I have it from the lips of +Benjamin’s lineal descendants, who have preserved the tradition, that, +after he had sacrificed his hopes of the inheritance, not for a mess of +pottage, but for a lovely wife; and Peter had been called from New +Rochelle, to supply his place, as the heir apparent; uncle Andrew, +probably, without exacting an absolute promise, enjoined it upon Peter, to +abstain from assisting Benjamin; to which injunction Peter paid no +practical regard whatever; but, like a Christian brother, remembered, that +old Benjamin Faneuil and Anne Bureau had been the father and the mother of +them both. The commercial correspondence shows, that Peter gave Benjamin +his confidence and affection. The relation between them plainly +demonstrates, that there was no deficiency of kind and generous offices.</p> + +<p>The ease and intimacy of their friendship will be perceived, by the +following note, which I copy literally from the original, in my +possession. There was a difference of eighteen months only, in their ages. +In this note, which was written, after Benjamin’s return from Europe, +Peter addresses him, by a cant name. “Boston the 18 August, 1741. Dear +Cockey: The Occasion of my not Sending my Chase for you was on Account of +Mr. Shirley’s receiving of his Majties Commission Last Thursday appointing +him Govr of this Province wh. was read the Next day, upon which Occasion +he ask’t me to Loane of my Charrot wh. I granted him till Last Night, so +that I presume will plede my xcuse. I now Send you up the Chase, to bring +you home,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[Pg 531]</a></span> and have deliver’d ye Coachman Some Boild Beef, a dozen of +brown biskett 6 bottles of Madera and 2 of Frontinan with a dozen of +Lemmons. Your relations and friends are all well, and desire their Love +and service may be made acceptable to you. Pray my Compliments to the +Gentn and Ladys with you—and give me Leave to assure you that I am, Dear +Cockey, Your Affectionate Brother, Peter Faneuil.”</p> + +<p>The superscription of this note is torn off, but to Benjamin alone can it +apply. Mr. Jones was not married, till after Peter’s death. His relation +to Phillips was rather formal; and still more so with Boutineau; and he +never would have thought of calling his brother Addington Davenport, the +Rector of Trinity, his <i>dear cockey</i>. His letters also record the +evidences of his kindness to his sisters, and his attention to their most +trifling wishes. Nov. 24, 1736, he writes Lynch and Blake—“My youngest +sister desires, that you wont forget to send her the Canary birds, which +you promised her, when you was here.” May 16, 1736, he writes Lane and +Smethurst of London—“My sisters have received their things, in good order +and to their liking, except the stockings: for the Hosier put up white +worsted, instead of thread, although the patern was sent. I have sent them +back to you to be changed, in the ship Union, John Homans, master. Be +pleased to send them, by the first opportunity: viz, for Mrs. Anne +Faneuil, 3 pairs thread hose, with worsted clogs, and a pair of +Galoushoes. Mrs. Susannah Faneuil, 2 pairs thread ditto. Mrs. Mary Anne +Faneuil, 4 pairs thread stockings, and 3 pairs clogs.” It is of small +moment, at this late day, whether these ladies wore thread or worsted +stockings, one hundred and fourteen years ago; but this ancient example of +brotherly regard may not be altogether lost, upon the race of brothers, +that has sprung up, during the present century. It is remarkable, that +Peter, though he applies the title, <i>Mrs.</i> to each of his sisters, gives +them the maiden name. The two, first named, were then the wives of +Addington Davenport and James Boutineau; the last, Mary Ann, afterwards +the wife of John Jones, was then single.</p> + +<p>At that early day, the moral sense of the people of the North appears to +have been thoroughly asleep, on the subject of slavery. The reverend +clergy were no exception from the general rule. After the decease of +Parson Moorhead, in 1774, a slave was sold, among his effects, “at his +late residence, near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[Pg 532]</a></span> <i>Liberty Tree</i>.” Jonny Moorhead was a cotemporary of +Peter Faneuil, having assumed the charge of the Presbyterian Church, as it +then was, in 1730. The reader will not be startled, therefore, when he +comes to be informed, as, in good time he will be, at how many pounds, old +tenor, each of Peter Faneuil’s five slaves were appraised, after his +decease. Slavery was not uncommon then, in the Province of Massachusetts +Bay. Douglass, in his Summary, vol. i. page 351, states, that in 1735, +about seven years before Peter’s death, the whole number of whites, of 16 +years and upwards, in the Province, was 35,427; and of negroes, 2600.</p> + +<p>Feb. 3, 1738. Peter Faneuil writes thus, to Peter Buckley—“Herewith you +have invoice of six hogsheads fish and eight barrells of alewives, +amounting to £75.9.2, which, when you arrive at Antigua, be pleased to +sell, for my best advantage, and, with the nett produce of the same, +purchase, for me, for the use of my house, as likely a strait negro lad as +possibly you can, about the age of from 12 to 15 years; and, if to be +done, one that has had the small-pox, who being for my own service, I must +request the favor, you would let him be one of as tractable a disposition +as you can find, which I leave to your prudent care and management, +desiring, after you have purchased him, you would send him to me, by the +first good opportunity, recommending him to a particular care, from the +captain.” I have no doubt, that Peter was a kind, considerate master; and, +though I have an unconquerable aversion to being the slave of anybody, I +had rather have been Peter’s <i>born thrall</i> than his <i>uncle Andrew</i>. What a +glorious kitchen Peter’s must have been!</p> + +<p>My female readers will scarcely find it in their eyelids to be weary, or +in their hearts to blame me, for giving them one or two passages more, +from Peter Faneuil’s letters; when they are told, that those passages +relate to a love affair, in which Peter, though not a principal, performed +an important part.</p> + +<p>The Faneuils and the Jekylls were intimate—so much so, at least, as to +bring the Jekylls within the circle of those, who, upon Uncle Andrew’s +death, were accounted the legitimate recipients of mourning rings. In a +letter to Mr. Joseph Jekyll, of Jan. 22, 1738, Peter alludes to Miss +Jekyll’s extraordinary conduct; and, most happily and truthfully, remarks, +that “<i>there is no accounting for the sex, in affairs of love</i>.” On the +same day, he writes Mr. Richard Blacket Jekyll—“Doubtless, you’ll be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[Pg 533]</a></span> +surprised to find, that, by this opportunity, only your sister, Mrs. +Hannah, of the family, who I hope will arrive safe to you, has the +pleasure of seeing you, and her other brothers, in England. I am sorry +Mrs. Mary does not consult her own interest, so much, as I could wish, +whose conduct I should say nothing of, were it not out of regard to the +family in general. It is now only one month past, since she suffered +herself to be published to one Mr. Linnington, of St. Christophers, +formerly known here, by the name of My Lord Linnington, or My Lord, whose +character, if you remember the man, I need not trouble you with a +description of it; but, if you do not, I can only say, that he is a +worthless pretender to a great deal of money and wit, without, according +to the best account I can learn, any of either: with whom she would, +inevitably have been married, had not some other friends joined forces +with me, and interposed.”</p> + +<p>“Inclosed I send you my letter to her, on that head, and her answer, for +your more private satisfaction. That affair being tolerably well over, and +Captain Homan’s state-room hired for the two young ladies, and their maid, +I had supplied them, according to your desire, with what money they might +have occasion for, to fit them out for the voyage, and paid the captain, +for their laying in, and tomorrow being the appointed time to go aboard, I +was, in the morning, advised Mrs. Mary had changed her mind, on account of +some new proposals of matrimony, made her, by Col. Saltonstall of +Haverhill, which sudden alteration I find to be, on examination, from a +visit or two, within these two or three days last past, at farthest, but, +however, concluded upon and determined, so that she does not come to you,” +&c., &c.</p> + +<p>Peter proceeds to comment, with great discretion, upon the absence of any +reasonable interval, for the heart of Miss Mary Jekyll to recover its due +tone and tension, after its first expansion towards <i>My Lord Linnington</i>, +and before the second spasm. But, truly, in the language of the anatomist, +the heart is a “wonderful muscle.”</p> + +<p>I had surmised a relation of consanguinity between Peter Faneuil and the +late Peter Chardon Brooks, from the fact, that, on the 29th of March, +1737, Peter Faneuil writes to the executors of Isaac Chardon, in South +Carolina, whom he calls his cousin; and, in that letter, speaks of his +cousin, <i>Peter Chardon</i>. But, from the best authority, I have learned, +that the name of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[Pg 534]</a></span>Peter Chardon was bestowed, by the Rev. Edward Brooks, +formerly of North Yarmouth, and more recently of Medford, upon his son, +<i>causa amicitiæ</i>; the Rev. Mr. Brooks and Peter Chardon, having been +classmates, of the year 1757. It was, probably, the father of this Peter +Chardon, whom Peter Faneuil calls his cousin, in 1737, and the same Peter +Chardon, who is named, on the record, as one of the appraisers of Peter +Faneuil’s estate, in 1742-3. The name is rare; it occurs once only, on the +Cambridge Catalogue; and, from its rarity, it may not be unreasonable, to +look for the <i>stirps</i>, on the pages of Charlevoix, iii. 392, who speaks of +<i>Peter Chardon</i>, the Jesuit, a missionary, among the Indians, bordering +upon Lake Michigan, at the very close of the seventeenth century. <i>Our</i> +Peter Chardon, the cousin of Faneuil, resided in Bowdoin Square, near the +street, that bears his name.</p> + +<p>After the death of his uncle Andrew, Peter Faneuil, by the power of +wealth, in addition to his other qualities, intelligence, industry, and +courtesy, necessarily became an influential character; and the use, which +he immediately began to make of his wealth, his public spirit, his private +benevolence, all conspired to make him an object of very general interest. +His hospitalities were unbounded. He associated himself with the Episcopal +Church. He subscribed £2000 old tenor, £200 sterling for the rebuilding of +King’s Chapel, in 1740, and was chosen treasurer of the building fund. His +death, in 1742-3, put a stop to the project. No money had ever been +collected, for that object. In 1747, the project was revived. New +subscriptions were solicited, and the old ones demanded, “<i>at the end of +this year 1748</i>.” Peter Faneuil died March 3, 1742-3, and had therefore +been dead, between five and six years. “For the subscription of Peter +Faneuil,” says Mr. Greenwood, in his history of the Chapel, “they were +unfortunately obliged to sue his brother, and executor, Benjamin Faneuil, +from whom, after a disagreeable lawsuit, they at last recovered it.” Mr. +Greenwood erred, in the supposition, that Peter left a will. He died +intestate, and administration was granted to Benjamin, March 18, 1742, old +style. The estate, of course, had been settled, doubtless, some years +before the demand on the administrator, “<i>at the end of 1748</i>.” Having +other heirs to consult, he very properly resisted this tardy and +unexpected claim; and cast the responsibility upon the court.</p> + +<p>For several years, Peter Faneuil worshipped in Trinity Church,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[Pg 535]</a></span> of which +his brother-in-law, Addington Davenport, became rector, in 1740. Peter’s +pew, in Old Trinity, was No. 40. He was an active and liberal member of +the Episcopal Charitable Society. “Mr. Faneuil,” says the late Dr. Boyle, +“was one of the earliest members of the society. He was a liberal +subscriber to its funds, and acted, as a trustee of the institution.”</p> + +<p>Peter Faneuil’s heart was proverbially warm, and sensitive to the +necessities and distresses of his <i>neighbor</i>; and he seems to have +cherished the true scriptural construction of that <i>ubiquitary</i> word. The +accession of wealth, upon his uncle’s death, hardened not his heart, but +gave it a deeper, fuller, and stronger pulse, upon every call of charity. +To him, as to other men, who admit their motives to be human, upon common +occasions, the applause of the <i>wise</i> and <i>good</i> was exceedingly +agreeable. Whatever the prominency of higher and holier considerations, he +turned a willing and a grateful ear to the approbation of the judicious +and upright. Not contented with the opportunities of doing good, on a +small scale, which were, doubtless, frequently presented, before a man, +whose wealth and warmheartedness were equally notorious; he coveted some +fair occasion, for pouring forth of his abundance, in a more magnificent +manner—pleased—naturally and justifiably pleased—with the thought, that +his name and his memory would be associated with the deed, in after times.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXX" id="No_CXXX"></a>No. CXXX.</h2> + + +<p>One may, as successfully, search for that identical peck of pickled +peppers, that Peter Piper picked, as for the original Hall, that Peter +Faneuil built. Like Rachel’s first born, <i>it is not</i>. After all the +reparations, and changes, and hard hammerings she has undergone, we may as +well search, within the walls of Old Ironsides, for those very ribs of +live oak, which, some fifty years ago, were launched, in the body of the +frigate Constitution.</p> + +<p>In the olden time, the market men, like the mourners, went “about the +streets.” The inhabitants were served, at their doors. As early as 1634, +Gov. Winthrop, in his journal, speaks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[Pg 536]</a></span> of a market, which was kept in +Boston, “on Thursday, the fifth day of the week.” This weekly market on +the fifth day is mentioned, by Douglass, as of 1639, vol. i. p. 434. This, +I think, refers only to a gathering of sellers and buyers, at one spot, +and not to any “visible temple,” for storage and shelter. Citizens +differed, as to the best method of getting their <i>provant</i>; some preferred +the old mode, as it was supposed to save time; others were in favor of +having a common point, with a covered building. Parties were formed; the +citizens waxed wroth; and quarrelled about their meat, like angry dogs. +Those, who were in favor of market-houses, prevailed. Three were erected; +one, at the Old North Square—one, where Faneuil Hall now stands—and one, +near Liberty Tree. People were no longer supplied, at their houses.</p> + +<p>It seems very strange, that this sensible arrangement should have led to +violent outrage. The malcontents assembled together, in the night, +“disguised like clergymen”—the devil, sometimes assumes this +exterior—and “totally demolished the centre market-house.” This occurred, +about the year 1736-7, or about the time of Andrew Faneuil’s death. Such +is the account of good old Thomas Pemberton. M. H. C. iii. 255.</p> + +<p>The popular sentiment prevented the reconstruction of the centre +market-house, till, in 1740, July 14, a town meeting was held to consider +a petition, for this object, from Thomas Palmer and 340 others. At this +meeting, it was stated, that Peter Faneuil had offered, at his own cost, +to build a market-house, on the town’s land, in Dock Square, for the use +of the town, if the citizens, would legally empower him so to do; place +the same under proper regulations; and maintain it, for that use.</p> + +<p>An impression has, somewhat extensively, prevailed, that Mr. Faneuil’s +proposal was not courteously received, by his fellow-citizens, and that a +majority of seven only were in favor of it.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, Mr. Faneuil’s proposal was received, with the most ample +demonstrations of grateful respect. There were two questions before the +meeting—first: shall a vote of thanks be passed to Peter Faneuil, for his +liberal offer? Secondly: shall we give up the itinerant system, and have a +market-house, on <i>any</i> conditions? Upon the first question, there was but +<i>one</i> mind—on the second, there were <i>two</i>. A vote of thanks to Mr. +Faneuil was instantly passed, without a dissentient. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[Pg 537]</a></span> second +question was the vexed question, revived, and excited the passions of the +people. Of 727 persons present, 367 only voted in favor of granting the +petition of Palmer and others, giving a majority of seven only.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, the work was commenced; and it was completed, Sept. 10, 1742, +“on which day,” says Dr. Snow, “Mr. Samuel Ruggles, who was employed, in +building the market house, waited on the selectmen, by order of P. +Faneuil, Esq., and delivered them the key of said house.”</p> + +<p>Peter was a magnificent fellow. An antiquarian friend, to whom the fancy +has lineally descended, through a line of highly respectable, antiquarian +ancestors, informs me, that his father handed down to him a tradition, +which is certainly plausible. It runs thus: while the market-house was in +progress—probably on paper—it was suggested to Peter, that, with very +little additional expense, a splendid town hall might be constructed over +it. Peter’s heart was quite as <i>roomy</i> as the market-house, and town hall +together, and he cheerfully embraced the suggestion. The tradition goes a +little farther—when the cost was summed up, Peter scolded—a little. Very +likely. Mr. Peter Faneuil was not an exception, I presume, to the common +rule.</p> + +<p>The keys, as I have stated, were presented to the town, Sept. 10, 1742, +with all that courtesy, doubtless, for which he was remarkable. Peter’s +relatives and connections are somewhat numerous. The descendants of +Benjamin his brother are scattered over the country. It will be equally +grateful to them, and honorable to our forefathers, to exhibit a portion +of the record.</p> + +<p>Sept. 13, 1742, at a meeting, in the new hall, a vote of thanks was moved, +by the Hon. John Jeffries, uncle of the late Dr. John Jeffries. In this +vote, it is stated, that, whereas Peter Faneuil has, “at a very great +expense, erected a noble structure, far exceeding his first proposal, +inasmuch, as it contains, not only a large and sufficient accommodation +for a market place, but a spacious and most beautiful town hall over it, +and several other convenient rooms, which may prove very beneficial to the +town, for offices or otherwise. And the said building being now finished, +he has delivered possession thereof to the selectmen for the use of the +town; it is therefore voted, that the town do, with the utmost gratitude, +receive and accept this most generous and noble benefaction, for the use +and intentions it is designed for; and do appoint the Hon. Thomas Cushing +Esquire, the moderator<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[Pg 538]</a></span> of this meeting, the Hon. Adam Winthrop, Edward +Hutchinson, Ezekiel Lewis, and Samuel Waldo, Esquires, Thomas Hutchinson, +Esq. the selectmen and representatives of the town of Boston, the Hon. +Jacob Wendell, James Bowdoin, Esq., Andrew Oliver, Esq., Captain Nathaniel +Cunningham, Peter Chardon, Esq., and Mr. Charles Apthorp, to wait upon +Peter Faneuil, Esq., and in the name of the town, to render him their most +hearty thanks, for so bountiful a gift, with their prayers, that this and +other expressions of his bounty and charity may be abundantly recompensed +with the divine blessing.”</p> + +<p>In addition to this vote, the citizens passed another, that the hall +should be called Faneuil Hall, forever; and that the portrait of Faneuil +should be painted, at full length, and placed therein. On the 14th of +March, 1744, a vote was passed “to purchase the Faneuil arms, carved and +gilt, by Moses Deshon, to be fixed in the hall.”</p> + +<p>Pemberton says—“Previous to the Revolution, the portraits of Mr. Faneuil, +General Conway, and Colonel Barré were procured by the town, and hung up +in the hall. It is supposed they were carried off by the British.” The +portrait of Faneuil at present, in the hall, was painted by Henry Sargent, +from the portrait, presented to the Massachusetts Historical Society, by +Miss Jones, a grandchild of Peter’s sister, Mary Ann.</p> + +<p>The original building was but half the width of the present, and but two +stories high. The hall could contain but 1000 persons. In the memorable +fire of Tuesday, Jan. 13, 1761, Faneuil Hall was destroyed, and nothing +left standing but the walls. On the 23d of the following March, the town +voted to rebuild, and the State authorized a lottery, to meet the expense. +There were several classes. A ticket, of the seventh class, lies before +me, bearing date March, 1767, with the spacious autograph of John Hancock, +at the bottom.</p> + +<p>The building retained its primitive proportions, till 1806, when, the +occasions of the public requiring its enlargement, its width was +increased, from 40 to 80 feet, and a third story added. A very simple rule +may be furnished, for those, who would compare the size of the present +building, with that of the genuine Peter Faneuil Hall. Take a northeast +view of the Hall—there are seven windows before you, in each story—run a +perpendicular line, from the ground, through the centre of the middle +window to the top of the belt, at the bottom of the third story—carry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[Pg 539]</a></span> a +straight line from that point nearly to the top of the second window, on +the right, in the third story. That point is the apex of the old pediment. +From that point, draw the corresponding roof line down to the belt, at the +corner; and you have a profile of the ancient structure; all which is well +exhibited by Dr. Snow, on the plan, in his History of Boston.</p> + +<p>Small as the original structure may appear, when compared with the +present, it was a magnificent donation, for the times. It may well be +considered a munificent gift, from a single individual, in 1742, when we +consider, that its repairs, in 1761, were accomplished, by the aid of the +Commonwealth, and the creation of a lottery, which continued to curse the +community, for several years.</p> + +<p>Peter Faneuil was then in all his glory. How readily, by the power of +Imagination, I raise him from the dead, bolt upright; with his over portly +form, and features full of <i>bon homie</i>; speaking volumes, about those five +pipes of amber-colored Madeira, such as his friend Delancey had; and that +best book of all sorts of cookery, of a large character, for the maid’s +reading! There he is, at the door of his English chariot, “handsome, but +nothing gaudy,” with his arms thereon, and his English coachman, and his +English horses, and that “strait negro lad” perched behind. I see him now, +helping in Miss Mary Anne, his youngest maiden sister; and, as he ascends +the steps, wrapping his cloak around him, trimmed with that identical +“<i>scarlet cloth of the very best quality</i>.”</p> + +<p>The vanity of man’s anticipations, the occasional suddenness of his +summons away—seldom find a more graphic illustration, than in the case of +this noble hearted, and most hospitable gentleman. When he received the +grateful salutations of the magnates of the town, who came to thank him, +for his munificence, what could have been so little in his thoughts, or in +theirs, as the idea, that he was so soon to die!</p> + +<p>In about five years—five, short, luxurious years—after the death of +Andrew Faneuil, Peter, his favorite nephew, was committed to the ground, +March 10, 1742, old style. The event, from its suddenness, and from the +amiable and benevolent character of the individual, produced a deep +sensation, in the <i>village</i>, for Boston was nothing but a seashore village +then. In 1728, some fourteen years before, we learn from Douglass, i. 531, +that there were but 3000 rateable polls, on the peninsula. This<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[Pg 540]</a></span> event was +unexpected, by the living, and had been equally unexpected, by the dead. +Death came to Peter, like a thief in the stilly night. He had not looked +for this unwelcome visitor. He had made no will. By this event, Benjamin +came into possession; and old Andrew is supposed to have turned over, +indignantly, in his coffin.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXI" id="No_CXXXI"></a>No. CXXXI.</h2> + + +<p>To such of my readers, as the Lord has abundantly blessed, in their basket +and their store, and who have loaned him very little, on his simple +promise, to be repaid, in Paradise; and who are, peradventure, at this +very moment, excogitating revengeful wills; the issue of uncle Andrew’s +vindictive, posthumous arrangements may prove a profitable lesson, for +their learning. Verily, God’s ways are not as our ways, nor God’s will as +Uncle Andrew’s.</p> + +<p>It may be remembered, that, in the devise of his warehouse, in trust, for +the benefit of the French Church, Andrew Faneuil provided, that, in the +event of the extinction of that church, the estate should revert to his +<i>right heirs—excluding Benjamin Faneuil, of Boston, and the heirs of his +body forever</i>, whom he cuts off, as the popular phrase runs, with “<i>five +shillings, and no more</i>.” In passing along, it may not be amiss to notice +this popular error. The law has, at no time, required the bequest of a +farthing, to one, near of kin, whom the testator intends to cut off. It is +enough, if it be manifest, that the testator has <i>not forgotten him</i>; and, +to leave no possible doubt upon the subject, a churlish curmudgeon, as in +the present case, will transmit, in this offensive manner, the record of +his vindictiveness and folly, to future generations.</p> + +<p>When Andrew Faneuil makes Peter his residuary legatee, there is no +provision, for the exclusion of Benjamin, in the event of Peter’s death, +without heirs of his body. Prepared, as this amiable, old gentleman was, +to believe, in the possible extinction of the French Church, he seems to +have looked upon Peter, an inveterate old bachelor, as immortal. Yet, in +regard to Peter, the issue hung, by a single hair. There was no child, +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[Pg 541]</a></span> the cup in his hand, to catch the ball, and prevent it from lapsing +directly into Benjamin’s sack, who, with his sisters, stood close at hand, +the next of kin to Peter, and heirs at law.</p> + +<p>Well: as I have said, God’s will was not as Uncle Andrew’s. After a few +flying years, during which Peter executed the intentions of the testator, +with remarkable fidelity; and lived, as magnificently, as a nobleman, and +as hospitably, as a bishop, and, as charitably, as an apostle—suddenly, +the silver cord was loosed, and the golden bowl was broken, and Peter +dropped into the grave. The title of Benjamin and his sisters to all +Peter’s estate, and to all Andrew’s estate, that remained, as the heirs at +law of Peter, passed into them, through the atmosphere, at once; and +Andrew’s will, by the act of God, was set aside, in the <i>upper</i> Court.</p> + +<p>Administration was granted to Benjamin, March 18, 1742, O. S., who +returned an inventory, April 21, 1744. The appraisers of the estate were +William Price, Joseph Dowse, and Peter Chardon; and the sum total of their +valuation was £44,451.15.7. This, certainly, will incline the reader to +Master Lovell’s idea, of “<i>a large and plentiful estate</i>,” until I add +those words of withering import—<i>Old Tenor</i>. Sterling decimates old tenor +with a vengeance—<i>ten</i> pounds, old tenor, were but <i>one</i> pound, sterling. +The valuation, therefore, amounted to about £4,445 sterling, or, in +dollars, at five to the pound, to $22,225. It may seem rather surprising, +that the balance, which fell to Peter, from his uncle, under the will, and +his own accumulations, should amount to no more. But a few reflections may +tend to moderate our surprise.</p> + +<p>The estate of his uncle had been seriously diminished, by the payment of +legacies, £2,000 stg. to each of his three nieces, $30,000—more than +$8,000 to his niece, Marie Phillips; and about $2,000, in smaller +legacies, raising the amount of legacies to $40,000. He had also given his +warehouse, in King Street, to the French Church. These legacies Peter had +paid. He had also built and presented the Market-house and the Hall to the +town. But there is another important consideration. Funds still remained, +in other countries, part and parcel of Andrew’s property. This is evident, +from an original document before me, the marriage settlement of Peter’s +sister, Mary Anne with John Jones, bearing date March 15, 1742, the very +month of Peter’s death. This document recites, that one part of her +estate, as one of the heirs of Peter Faneuil, “<i>is in Public Funds, such +as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[Pg 542]</a></span> the Bank of England</i>.” As this does not figure in Benjamin’s inventory +here, it is impossible to say what was the amount of foreign funds, which +Peter owned, at the time of his death. For some five years, while he had +been living, in a style of unbounded hospitality, he had also enjoyed the +luxury of doing good, and paid, most liberally, for that enjoyment. From +his commercial correspondence, I infer, that his enterprise suffered no +material abatement, after his uncle’s decease.</p> + +<p>I cannot doubt, that his free expenditure of money, for his personal +enjoyment, the gratification of his pride, and the pleasure of ministering +to the wants of the poor and needy, had lessened, and was lessening, from +month to month, the amount of his estate. There is yet another +consideration, which belongs to this account, the great disparity, between +the value of money, then, and at the present day.</p> + +<p>The items, or particular heads, of the inventory, are one hundred and +fifty-eight; and cover near four folio pages of the record. Some of them +may not be wholly uninteresting to the reader. The mansion-house, the +same, as I have stated, in which Lieutenant Governor Billy Phillips lived +and died, and Isaiah Doane before him, the extensive garden, outhouses and +yard were appraised, one hundred and eight years ago, at £12,375, or +£1,237 stg., about $6,185, at five dollars to the pound. Fourteen hundred +ounces of plate, at £2,122 10. This plate was divided into five parts, for +the brother, and four sisters of the deceased. A memorandum lies upon my +table, labelled, in the original hand of Gillam Phillips—“An account of +my proportion of plate, belonging to the estate of Peter Faneuil, Esq., +deceased.” This document contains a list of “<i>Gillam Phillips’ Lot</i>,” and +side by side—“<i>a coffee pot</i>—<i>a large, handsome chamber pot</i>.” They made +a free use of the precious metals, in those days.</p> + +<p>A parcel of jewels are appraised, at £1,490—1 white horse, £15—2 Albany +horses, £100—2 English horses, £250—2 other English horses, £300—4 old +and 4 new harnesses, £120—2 pairs runners, £15—1 four-wheel chaise, +£150—1 two-wheel chaise, £50—a coach, £100—1 chariot, £400—5 negroes, +£150—130—120—120—100. Then follows a variety of articles—fowling +pieces—fishing tackle—silver-hilted sword—pistols—china, glass, +hangings, carpets, and culinary articles, in profusion—lignum vitæ coffee +cups, lined with silver—silver <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[Pg 543]</a></span>snuff-boxes—gold sleeve-buttons and +rings—195 dozen of wine—arrack—beer—Cheshire and Gloucester cheeses. +Indeed, Peter’s establishment appears to have been a variorum edition of +all manner of elegancies, luxuries, and creature comforts. The inventory +comprehends eight tenements, in Cornhill, and King Street; a number of +vessels, and parts of vessels; and various other items of property.</p> + +<p>The remains of this noble-spirited descendant of the Huguenots of Rochelle +were deposited, in the Faneuil tomb, in the westerly corner of the Granary +Ground. This tomb is of dark freestone, with a freestone slab. Upon the +easterly end of the tomb, there is a tablet of slate, upon which are +sculptured, with manifest care and skill, the family arms; while, upon the +freestone slab, are inscribed, at the top, M. M.—<i>memento mori</i>, of +course,—and, at the bottom of the slab—a cruel apology for the old +Huguenot patronymic—“<span class="smcap">Peter Funel. 1742</span>,” and nothing more.</p> + +<p>The explanation, which arises, in my mind, of this striking inconsistency, +is this: I believe this tomb, whose aspect is simple, solid, and antique, +to have been built by Andrew Faneuil, who was a wealthy merchant here as +early as 1709: and I think it is quite certain, that the lady, whom he +married, in Holland, and whose beauty is traditional, among her +descendants, made the great exchange—beauty for ashes—in this very +sepulchre. In this tomb, Andrew was buried, by Peter, Feb. 20, 1737, and +Peter, by his brother, Benjamin, March 10, 1742, old style, and here +Benjamin himself, was laid, after an interval of two-and-forty years, +where there is neither work, nor device, nor will, nor codicil.</p> + +<p>The arms of Peter Faneuil—I have them before me, at this moment, on his +massive, silver pepper-pot—he found a place for them, on many of his +possessions, though I cannot say, if on all the articles which came into +the possession of Gillam Phillips,—were a field argent—no chevron—a +large heart, truly a suitable emblem, in the centre, gules—seven stars +equidistant from each other, and from the margin of the escutcheon, +extending from the sinister chief to the dexter base—in the sinister base +a cross molin, within an annulet—no scroll—no supporters; crest, a +martlet.</p> + +<p>The arms upon the tomb, though generally like these, and like the arms, on +other articles, once Peter’s, and still extant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[Pg 544]</a></span> differ in some important +particulars; and seem to have been quartered with those of another family, +as the arms of Andrew, being a collateral, might have been. A helmet, +beneath the martlet, especially, is wholly different from Peter’s crest. +Such precisely are the arms, on the seal of wax, upon Andrew’s will, in +the Registry. Hence I infer, that Uncle Andrew built this ancient +sepulchre. Arms, in days of old, and still, where a titled nobility +exists, are deemed, for the popular eye, sufficient evidence of ownership, +without a name. So thought Uncle Andrew; and he left the freestone tablet, +without any inscription.</p> + +<p>Some five years after the testator’s burial, the tomb was again opened, to +let in the residuary legatee. Peter’s was a grand funeral. The Evening +Post, of March 3, 1742-3, foretold, that it would be such; but the papers, +which, doubtless, gave an account of it, are lost—the files are +imperfect, of all those primitive journals. At first, and for years, the +resting place of Peter’s remains was well enough known. But the rust of +time began to gather upon men’s memories. The Faneuil arms, ere long, +became unintelligible, to such, as strolled among the tombs. That +“<i>handsome chariot, but nothing gaudy</i>,” with Peter’s armorial bearings +upon its panels, no longer rolled along Treamount, and Queen Streets, and +Cornhill, and drew up, of a Sabbath morning, before Trinity Church, that +brother Peter and the ladies might sit upon their cushions, in No. 40, +while brother Addington Davenport gave them a sermon, upon the Apostolical +succession. The good people had therefore forgotten all about the Faneuil +arms; and, before a great many years had rolled away, the inquiry +naturally arose, in popular phraseology—“<i>Whereabouts was it, that Peter +Faneuil was buried?</i>”</p> + +<p>Some worthy old citizen—God bless him—who knew rather more of this +matter than his neighbors, and was well aware, that the arms would be but +a dead letter to posterity, resolved to serve the public, and remedy the +defect. Up he goes into the Granary Ground, in the very spirit of Old +Mortality, and, with all his orthography in his ear, inscribes <span class="smcap">P. Funel</span> +upon the tablet!</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[Pg 545]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXII" id="No_CXXXII"></a>No. CXXXII.</h2> + + +<p>“<i>But Simon’s wife’s mother lay sick of a fever.</i>” Mark i. 30. From this +text, a clergyman—<i>of the old school</i>—had preached just as many, +consecutive sermons, as I have already published articles, concerning +Peter Faneuil and his family. A day or two after the last discourse, the +bell of the village church was tolled, for a funeral; and a long-suffering +parishioner, being asked, whose funeral it was, replied, that he had no +doubt it was Simon’s wife’s mother’s; for she had been sick of a fever, +for nine weeks, to his certain knowledge. Let the reader possess himself +in patience—our dealings with the Faneuils cannot last forever.</p> + +<p>We have stated, that Peter’s death was sudden, the very death, from which, +as a churchman, he had prayed to be delivered. But let us not forget, that +no death is sudden, in the sense of the good man’s prayers, however +instantaneously the golden bowl may be broken, to him, whose life has been +well spent, and who is prepared to die.</p> + +<p>In this connection, two interesting questions arise—how Peter Faneuil +came to be a churchman—and if his life was a well-spent life, affording +him reasonable assurance of admission into Paradise.</p> + +<p>The old Huguenots styled themselves “<span class="smcap">the Reformers</span>,” and embraced the +doctrines of Calvin, in full. Oppression commonly teaches even intolerant +men the value of toleration. Our Puritan fathers, it is true, who fled +from Episcopal, as the Huguenots from Roman Catholic tyranny, profited +very little, by the lesson they had learned; and turned upon the Catholics +and Quakers, in the spirit of preposterous cruelty. The government of +Massachusetts, according to Hazard, received a profitable lesson of +moderation, from that of Rhode Island.</p> + +<p>The Huguenots soon began to abate somewhat of that exorbitant severity and +punctiliousness, in their religion, which, in no slight degree, had +brought upon them that persecution, which was gathering, and impending +over them, in 1684, a twelvemonth before the revocation of the edict of +Nantes; compelling many of them, thus early, to fly from their homes, into +other lands. The teachings of James Saurin, the great Huguenot preacher of +the refugees, at the Hague, in 1705, and in subsequent years,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[Pg 546]</a></span> were of a +milder type. He was “<i>a moderate Calvinist</i>.” Such, also, were Daillé and +Le Mercier, the ministers of the French Church, in Boston.</p> + +<p>Peter Faneuil, undoubtedly, worshipped in this church, during a certain +period. We have seen the liberal arrangement of his uncle, in 1734, for +the support of its minister, and the testator’s provision for its poor. +Even then, he evidently anticipated, that it might cease to be; and shaped +his testamentary provisions accordingly. Natural causes were in operation; +I have referred to them—intermarriage, with our English people—merging +the language of the few, in that of the many—juxtaposition—all tending +to diminish the necessity for maintaining a separate church.</p> + +<p>There was no dissolution of the society, at first, by any formal vote. The +attendance became irregular and scanty—the members went elsewhere—Le +Mercier, “a worthy character,” says the Rev. Dr. Holmes, ceased to +officiate, and the church broke up. For years, there were no services, +within the little temple; and, in 1748, it was sold, as I have stated, to +the members of another denomination.</p> + +<p>It became a question with these Huguenots, the Faneuils, the Boutineaus, +the Johonnots, the Oliviers, the Sigourneys, and their associates, where +they should worship God. In 1740-41, the preachers, in Boston, were +Charles Chauncey, at the Old Brick—at the Old North, Increase Mather, +supplying the place of his brother Samuel, who, though ordained, in 1732, +preached but one winter, and parted—at the Old South, Joseph Sewall, and +Thomas Prince—at the Baptist, in Back Street, Jeremy Condy—at King’s +Chapel, Stephen Roe—at Brattle Street, William Cooper—at the Quaker +meeting-house, in Leverett’s Lane, whoever was moved by the Spirit—at the +New North, John Webb—at the New South, Samuel Checkley—at the New Brick, +Ellis Gray—at Christ Church, Timothy Cutler—at Long Lane, Jonny +Moorhead—at Hollis Street, Mather Byles—at Trinity, Addington +Davenport—at Lynde Street, William Hooper.</p> + +<p>Several of the descendants of the Huguenots, not at all deterred, by the +resemblance, whatever that might be, between the forms of Episcopalian +worship, and those of their religious persecutors, the Roman Catholics, +mingled with the Episcopalians. Thus they clung to the common element, the +doctrine of the Trinity; and escaped, like Saurin, from the +super-sulphuretted vapors of primitive Calvinism.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[Pg 547]</a></span>It is not very surprising, that the Faneuils should have settled down, +upon the new and fashionable temple—Trinity had been erected but a few +years before; and the new rector was Peter’s brother-in-law, Mr. Addington +Davenport.</p> + +<p>Peter therefore became, <i>pro tanto</i>, an Episcopalian—a liberal subscriber +to the Charitable, Episcopal fund, and to the fund for the rebuilding of +King’s Chapel; and identified himself with the Episcopal interest.</p> + +<p>The religious character of Peter Faneuil, and the present whereabouts of +this public benefactor, will be determined, by different individuals, +according to the respective indications of their spiritual thermometers.</p> + +<p>I have already ventured an opinion, that the mantle of charity, which +covereth a multitude of sins, should be extended, for Peter’s behoof, over +that little affair with Peter Baynton, touching the duties, on those four +hogsheads of brandy. But there is another matter, over which, I am aware, +that some very worthy people will doubt, if the mantle of charity, can be +stretched, without serious danger of lesion—I refer to the importation, +about the same time with the prayer books, of that enormous quantity—six +gross—of “the very best King Henry’s cards.” I have often marvelled, how +the name of the Defender of the Faith ever came to be connected, with such +pestilent things.</p> + +<p>I am well aware, how closely, in the opinions of some learned divines, +cards are associated with the idea of eternal damnation. If it be so; and +a single pack is enough to send the proprietor to the bottomless pit, it +is truly grievous to reflect how much deeper Peter, our great public +benefactor, has gone, with the oppressive weight of six gross of the very +best, upon his soul. Now-a-days, there seem to be very few, the Romanists +excepted, who believe in purgatory; and it is pretty generally agreed, +that all, who attempt the bridge of <i>Al Sirat</i>, will surely arrive, either +at Paradise, or Pandemonium.</p> + +<p>How delightful it would be, to have the opinion of good old André Le +Mercier, in a case like this. Though Peter no longer waited upon Le +Mercier’s ministrations; but, for several years, before the dissolution of +the French Church, had settled down, under brother Addington Davenport, +first, as the assistant at King’s Chapel, and, afterwards, as the Rector +of Trinity; yet Le Mercier could not forget the nephew of his benefactor, +Andrew Faneuil. He was, doubtless, at Peter’s funeral, who died one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[Pg 548]</a></span> and +twenty years, before the holy man was summoned to his account, in 1764. +Yes, he was there.</p> + +<p>I have heard of a man, who accounted, for the dryness of his eyes, when +all around him wept, at a pathetic discourse, on the ground, that he +belonged to another parish. I have known Christian ministers—<i>very</i>—not +many, thank heaven—who were influenced, to such a degree, by that spirit, +which may be supposed to govern the proprietors of opposition omnibuses, +as to consider the chord of human sympathy cut, through and through, and +forever, between themselves, and a parishioner, who, for any cause, +elected to receive his spiritual treasures out of some other earthen +vessel, albeit of the very same denomination of crockery ware.</p> + +<p>Poverty, and disease, and death, and misery, in every type, might stalk +in, and upon, and over that homestead, and hearth, where these Christian +ministers had been warmed, and refreshed, and fostered—but it was no +longer a concern of theirs. No visit of condolence—no kind inquiry—not +one, cheap word of consolation had they, for such, as had ceased to +receive their ideas of damnation from them—enough—these individuals had +sold their pews—“<i>crimen difficile expiandum</i>”—they belonged to another +parish!</p> + +<p>André Le Mercier, was not a man of this description. He was not a holy +huckster of spiritual things, having not one crumb of comfort, for any, +but his regular customers. André was a man, whose neighbor’s ubiquity was +a proverb.</p> + +<p>But what he would say, about these six gross of King Henry’s cards, I am +by no means, certain. He was a man of a tolerant spirit; but on certain +points, the most tolerant are, occasionally, found to be imbued, with +unalterable prejudices. On page 85, of his Church History of Geneva, which +I have read with pleasure, he quotes approvingly, the maxim of “a doctor +of the church.” “<i>In necessariis rebus sit unitas, in dubiis libertas, in +omnibus charitas.</i>” This breathes the spirit of toleration:—what are +<i>dubia</i>, what <i>necessaria</i> are not quite so readily settled, however.</p> + +<p>On page 100, I find a passage, not quite so favorable for Peter, in this +matter of the six gross. Referring to Calvin’s return to Geneva, in 1536, +after his banishment, Le Mercier says—“And then <i>Balls and Dances</i> and +profane songs were forbidden, by the magistrates. And that form of +Discipline remains entire, to the present Time, notwithstanding the +repeated Attempts, that have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[Pg 549]</a></span> been made by wicked People to overset it. +King Henry’s cards, I fear, even of the very best quality, would, +undoubtedly, fall into this category, of things Calvinized on earth, in +the opinion of André Le Mercier.”</p> + +<p>The meaning of the words, “<i>profane songs</i>,” may not be universally +intelligible. It undoubtedly meant, as used by the Council, <i>all songs not +sacred</i>. Calvin, undoubtedly, adopted the commendation of Scripture, to +such, as were merry, to sing psalms. It appears, however, that certain +persons entertained conservative notions, in those early days; even beyond +the dictum of holy writ; for, on page 101, Le Mercier states, that +Sebastian Castalio, a preacher, and professor, in the College of Geneva, +“<i>condemned Solomon’s Songs, as being profane and immodest</i>;” the very +charge, as the reader is aware, which has been so often urged, against the +songs of Tom Moore. Moore, at last, betook himself to sacred melodies. +Solomon, had his life been spared, would, probably, have done the same +thing, to the entire satisfaction of Sebastian Castalio.</p> + +<p>I see wisdom, and mercy, and truth, in a part of the maxim, quoted by +André Le Mercier—<i>in dubiis libertas</i>. I have long suspected there were +some angels in Heaven, who were damned by Calvin, on earth. I verily +believe, that Peter Faneuil is in Paradise.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXIII" id="No_CXXXIII"></a>No. CXXXIII.</h2> + + +<p>Some of my readers, I doubt not, have involuntarily clenched their fists, +and set their teeth hard, while conning over the details of that merciless +and bloody duel, so long, and so deliberately projected, and furiously +fought, at last, near Bergen op Zoom, by the Lord Bruce, and Sir Edward +Sackville, with rapiers, and in their shirts. Gentle reader, if you have +never met with this morceau, literally dripping with blood, and are born +with a relish for such rare provant—for I fear the appetite is +congenital—you will find an ample account of the affair, in numbers 129 +and 133 of the Guardian.</p> + +<p>This wrathful fight is of an early date, having taken place, in 1613. Who +could measure the popular excitement, if tomorrow’s dawn should bring the +tidings of a duel, fought the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[Pg 550]</a></span> night before, on Boston Common, by two +young gentlemen, with rapiers, not, perhaps, quite so brutal, in its +minute details, but quite as deliberately planned, and quite as fatal, in +its result! What then must have been the effect of such an announcement, +on the morning of the fourth of July, 1728, one hundred and twenty-three +years ago, when Boston was a seaport village, just six years, after the +“<i>perlustration</i>” of Mr. Salter had rated the population, at 10,670 souls.</p> + +<p>It is matter of sober history, that such a duel was actually fought, then +and there, on the evening of the third of July, 1728, near the +powder-house, which is indicated, on Bonner’s plan of 1722. This was a +very different affair from the powder-house, erected at West Boston, in +1774, with walls of seven feet in thickness.</p> + +<p>The parties, engaged, in this fatal affair were two young gentlemen, whose +connections were highly respectable, whose lives had been amiable, whose +characters were of good report, and whose friends were numerous and +powerful. The names of Peter Faneuil and of his uncle, Jean Faneuil, of +Rochelle, are associated with this transaction.</p> + +<p>The parties were very young; the survivor twenty-two, and the victim but +little more. The survivor, Henry Phillips, was the brother of Gillam +Phillips, who, the reader of the preceding articles will remember, married +Marie, the sister of Peter Faneuil. Peter was then just twenty-eight; and, +doubtless, if there were dandies in those days, one of the foremost, on +the peninsula. The natural interest he felt, in the brother of his +sister’s husband, engaged his efforts, to spirit the wretched survivor +away. He was consigned to the uncle of Peter, beyond the sea—to whom +Marie, his niece, very probably, wrote a few lines, bespeaking kind +offices, for the unfortunate brother of her husband. It is not impossible, +that old André added a prudential word or two, by way of postscript, +confirming brother Jean, as to the safety of the operation. Be this as it +may, Henry Phillips escaped from his pursuers, who were speedily put upon +the scent, by Governor Dummer. Henry Phillips arrived safely in Rochelle. +What befel him, in the strange land, is not the least interesting portion +of the narrative.</p> + +<p>Benjamin Woodbridge—such was the name of the individual, who was the +victim, in this fatal encounter—was a young merchant, in partnership with +Mr. Jonathan Sewall. Of his particular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[Pg 551]</a></span> origin I am not entirely +satisfied. The name, among us, is of the olden time. Benjamin Woodbridge +was the very earliest alumnus of Harvard College: born in England in 1622, +and graduated here in 1642.</p> + +<p>The originating cause of this duel, like that, which produced the terrible +conflict, between the Lord Bruce and Sir Edward Sackville, is unknown.</p> + +<p>That the reader may walk along with me, confidingly, upon this occasion, +it may be well to indicate the sources, from which I derive my knowledge +of a transaction, so exciting at the time, so fatal in its results, and so +almost universally unknown, to those, who daily pass over the very spot, +on our Common, upon which these young gentlemen met, and where young +Woodbridge fell.</p> + +<p>I have alluded to the subsequent relation of Peter Faneuil, and of his +uncle, Jean, of Rochelle, to this affair. In my investigation into the +history of Peter and his relatives, I have been aided by Mr. Charles +Faneuil Jones, the grandson of Peter’s sister, Mary Ann. Among the +documents, loaned me, by that gentleman, are sundry papers, which belonged +to Gillam Phillips, the brother of Henry, the survivor in the duel.</p> + +<p>Among these papers, are original documents, in Jean Faneuil’s handwriting, +relative to the fate of the miserable wanderer, after his arrival in +Rochelle—accounts of disbursements—regularly authenticated copies of the +testimony, relative to the duel, and to the finding of the dead body of +Woodbridge, and to the coöperation of Peter Faneuil and others, in +concealing the survivor, on board the Sheerness, British man of war, and +of his indictment, the “<i>Billa Vera</i>,” in August, 1728, by the grand jury +of Suffolk, for murder. In addition to these documents, I have found a +certified copy of a statement, highly favorable to the character of Henry +Phillips, the survivor, and manifestly intended to have an influence upon +the public mind. This statement is subscribed, by eighty-eight prominent +citizens, several of them holding high official stations, and among the +number, are four ministers of the Gospel, with the Rev. Timothy Cutler, of +Christ Church, at their head. Appended is the certificate of Governor +Burnett, who, in that very month, succeeded Governor Dummer, stating the +official, professional and social position of the signers of this +document, with which it was clearly intended to fortify an application to +George II. for a pardon of the offender.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[Pg 552]</a></span>The discovery of these papers, affording, as they do, some account of a +transaction, so very remarkable, for the time and place of its occurrence, +and of which I had never heard nor read before, excited my curiosity, and +led me to search for additional information.</p> + +<p>If my reader is of the fancy, he will readily comprehend my chagrin, when, +upon turning over the leaves of Green’s “<i>Boston Weekly News Letter</i>”—the +imperfect files—all that time has left us—preserved in the library of +the Massachusetts Historical Society—the very paper, that next ensued, +after July 3, 1728, the date of the duel, and which, doubtless, referred +to an occurrence, so very extraordinary, was among the “<i>things lost upon +earth</i>.” I was not less unfortunate with the files of the old “Boston +Gazette,” of that early day. I then took up Kneeland’s “New England Weekly +Journal,” but with very little confidence of success. The file, however, +was there—No. 68—July 8, 1728, and my eyes soon fell, as the reader’s +fall at this moment, upon Governor Dummer’s proclamation:—</p> + +<p>“Whereas a barbarous murder was last night committed, on the body of +Benjamin Woodbridge, a young gentleman, resident in the town of Boston; +and Henry Phillips, of said town, is suspected to be the author of said +murder, and is now fled from justice; I have therefore thought proper to +issue this proclamation, hereby commanding all justices, sheriffs, +constables, and all other officers, within this Province, and requiring +all others, in his Majesty’s name, to use their utmost endeavors, that the +said Henry Phillips may be apprehended and brought to justice; and all +persons, whosoever, are commanded, at their utmost peril, not to harbor +nor conceal him. The said Henry Phillips is a fair young man, about the +age of twenty-two years, well set, and well dressed; and has a wound in +one of his hands. Given at Boston, the 4th of July, 1728, in the second +year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord and King, George II.” This +proclamation bears the signature of his Excellency, William Dummer.</p> + +<p>The editor of the journal, which contains the proclamation, expresses +himself as follows—“On Thursday last, the 4th current, about 3 in the +morning, after some hour’s search, was found dead, near the Powder House, +the body of Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, a young gentleman, merchant of this +place. He had a small stab, under the right arm; but what proved fatal to +him was a thrust he received, under his right breast, which came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[Pg 553]</a></span> out, at +the small of his back. The fore-finger of his left hand was almost cut +off, at the uppermost joint, supposed to be done, by grasping a naked +sword. The coroner’s inquest immediately set upon the body; and, after the +best information and evidence they could obtain, upon their oaths say, +that ‘the said Benjamin Woodbridge was killed, with a sword, run through +his body, by the hands of Henry Phillips, of Boston, merchant, on the +Common, in said Boston, on the third of this instant, as appears to us, by +sundry evidences.’ The body was carried to the house of Mr. Jonathan +Sewall, (his partner,) and, on Saturday last, was decently and handsomely +interred, his funeral being attended, by the Commander-in-Chief, several +of the Council, and most of the merchants and gentlemen of the town. There +are many and various reports respecting this tragic scene, which makes us +cautious of relating any of them. But the above, being plain matters of +fact, we thought it not improper to give the public an account thereof. +The unhappy gentleman, who is supposed to have committed the act, is not +as yet found. This new and almost unknown case has put almost the whole +town into great surprise.”</p> + +<p>A sermon, upon this occasion, of uncommon length, was delivered July 18, +1728, by the Rev. Dr. Joseph Sewall, of the Old South, at the Public +Lecture, and published, with a preface, by the “<i>United Ministers</i>” of +Boston. To give dignity to this discourse, it is adorned with a Latin +prefix—“<i>Duellum est damnandum, tam in acceptante quam in provocante; +quamvis major sit culpa provocantis</i>.” This discourse is singularly barren +of all allusion to the cause and circumstances of this event; and appears, +like our almanacs, adapted to any meridian.</p> + +<p>At his Majesty’s Court of Assize and General Gaol Delivery, on the second +Tuesday of August, 1728, the grand jurors, under the Attorney General +Hiller’s instructions, found a “<i>Vera Billa</i>” against Henry Phillips, for +the murder of Benjamin Woodbridge. Phillips was then far beyond the +influence and effect of the <i>vera billa</i>—on the high sea—upon his voyage +of expatriation. For some cause, which I am entirely unable to comprehend, +and can barely conjecture, a sympathy existed, for this young man, +extending far beyond the circle of his personal friends and relatives, and +engaging, on his behalf, the disinterested efforts, not only of several +persons in high official stations, but in holy orders, who cannot be +supposed to have undervalued the crime, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[Pg 554]</a></span> which he was unquestionably +guilty, before God and man. The reader, as we proceed, may possibly be +more successful than I have been, in discovering the occasion of this +extraordinary sympathy.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXIV" id="No_CXXXIV"></a>No. CXXXIV.</h2> + + +<p>That strong sympathy, exhibited for Henry Phillips, by whose sword a +fellow creature had so recently fallen, in a duel, must have sprung, if I +am not greatly mistaken, from a knowledge of facts, connected with the +origin of that duel, and of which the present generation is entirely +ignorant.</p> + +<p>Truth lies not, more proverbially, at the bottom of a well, than, in a +great majority of instances, a woman lurks at the bottom of a duel. If +Phillips, unless sorely provoked, had been the challenger, I cannot think +the gentlemen, who signed the certificate, in his behalf, would have +spoken of him thus:—</p> + +<p>“These may certify to all whom it may concern, that we, the subscribers, +well knew and esteemed Mr. Henry Phillips of Boston, in New England, to be +a youth of a very affable, courteous, and peaceable behavior and +disposition, and never heard he was addicted to quarrelling, he being +soberly brought up, in the prosecution of his studies, and living chiefly +an academical life; and verily believe him slow to anger, and with +difficulty moved to resentment.”</p> + +<p>Among the eighty-eight signers of this certificate, the names of Peter and +Benjamin Faneuil, and of their uncle, Andrew, occur, almost as a matter of +course. They were family connections. Who the others were, appears, by the +Governor’s certificate, under the seal of the Province:—</p> + +<p>“By his Excellency, William Burnet, &c. &c. These may certify whom it may +concern, that John Wentworth Esquire is Lieut. Governor of the Province of +New Hampshire; that William Tailor Esquire was formerly Lieut. Governor of +the Province of the Massachusetts Bay, and is now a member of his +Majesty’s Council for said Province; that James Stevens is Surveyor +General of the Customs, for the Northern district, in America; that Thomas +Lechmere Esquire was late Surveyor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[Pg 555]</a></span> General of the same; that John Jekyll +Esquire is Collector of the Customs, for the port of Boston; that Thomas +Steele is Justice of the Peace; that William Lambert Esquire is Controller +of the Customs, at Boston; that J. Minzies Esquire was Judge of the Vice +Admiralty; that Messieurs Timothy Cutler, Henry Harris, George Pigot, and +Ebenezer Miller are ministers of the Gospel; and that the other +subscribers to the certificate on the other side, are, some of them +merchants and others gentlemen of the town of Boston.” This certificate, +bearing the signature of Gov. Burnet, is dated Oct. 21, 1728.</p> + +<p>Of the origin of this affair, I have discovered nothing. Immediately after +its consummation, Phillips manifested deep distress, at the result. About +midnight, of July 3, 1728, with the assistance of his brother, Gillam, +Peter Faneuil, and several other persons, Henry Phillips was removed to a +place of safety. He was first conducted, by Peter Faneuil, to the house of +Col. Estis Hatch, and there concealed. His brother, Gillam, in the +meanwhile, applied to Captain John Winslow, of “<i>the Pink, Molly</i>,” for a +boat, to carry Henry, on board the British man of war, then lying between +the Castle and Spectacle Island. Gillam and the Captain repaired to +Hatch’s, and had an interview with Peter and Henry, in the yard. It was +then concluded, that Henry should go to Gibbs’ Wharf, probably as the most +retired wharf, for embarkation. The reader, who loves to localize—this +word will do—will find this little wharf, on Bonner’s plan, of 1722, at +the southeastern margin of Fort Hill, about half way between Whitehorn’s +Wharf and South Battery. It lay directly northeast, and not far distant +from the lower end of Gibbs’ Lane, now Belmont Street.</p> + +<p>Henry Phillips, with Peter Faneuil, accordingly proceeded, as quietly as +possible, to Gibbs’ Wharf. I see them now, stealing through Hatch’s back +gate, and looking stealthily behind them, as they take the darker side of +Belcher’s Lane. I trust there was no moon, that night. It was very foggy. +The reader will soon be sure, that I am right, in that particular.</p> + +<p>Gillam and Captain Winslow had gone to the Long Wharf, where the Molly’s +boat lay; and, as the distance was very considerable to the man-of-war, +they went first to the Pink, Molly—named, doubtless, for the Captain’s +lady. There they took on board, four of the Pink’s crew.</p> + +<p>How heavily the moments passed that night! That “<i>fair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[Pg 556]</a></span> young man</i>,” as +Governor Dummer calls him, in the <i>lettres de cachet</i>—too young, it may +seem, at twenty-two, to commence a pilgrimage, like Cain’s—how sublimated +his misery must have been! What sacrifice would he not have made, to break +the dead man’s slumber! There he lay; as yet unfound, stark, and stiff, +and with eyes unclosed—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Cut off, ev’n in the blossoms of my sin,<br /> +Unhousel’d, unanointed, unanneal’d.”</p> + +<p>Bootless sorrow! He had made his bloody bed—and therein must he lie +o’nights, and in no other. There were no hops in that pillow, for his +burning brain. The undying memory of a murdered victim—what an +everlasting agrypnic it must be!</p> + +<p>Time, to this wretched boy, seemed very like eternity, that night—but the +sound of the splashing oar was audible at last—the boat touched the +wharf—for the last time he shook the hand of his friend, Peter Faneuil, +and left the land of his birth, which he was destined never to revisit.</p> + +<p>The boat was turned from the shore, and the rowers gave way. But so +intense was the fog, that night, that they got on shore, at Dorchester +Neck; and, not until long after midnight, reached the Sheerness, man of +war. They were received on board. Captain Conrad and Lieutenant Pritchard +were very naturally disposed to sympathize with “<i>a fair young man</i>,” in a +predicament, like this—it was all in their line. Gillam, the elder +brother, related the occurrence; and, before day, parted from Henry, whom +he was destined to meet no more. Early, on the following morning, the +events of the preceding night had been whispered, from man to man; for the +pleasure of being among the earliest, to communicate the intelligence of a +bloody murder, was precisely the same, in 1728, as it is, at the present +day. Mrs. Winslow, the lady of the Captain of the Molly, had learned all +the details, doubtless, before the morning watch. The surgeons, who +dressed the wounds of Henry Phillips, for he also was wounded, felt +themselves under no obligation to be silent. The sailors of the Molly, who +had overheard the conversation of several of the party, were under no +injunction of secrecy. Indeed, long before the dawn of the fourth of +July—not then the glorious Fourth—the intelligence had spread, far and +wide; and parties were scouring the Common, in quest of the murdered man. +At an early hour, Governor Dummer’s proclamation was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[Pg 557]</a></span> in the hands of some +trusty compositor, in the office of Samuel Kneeland, in Queen Street; and +soon the handbills were upon all the town pumps, and chief corners, +according to the usage of those days.</p> + +<p>There is a pleasure, somewhat difficult of analysis, undoubtedly, in +gazing for hours upon the stuffed skin of a beast, that, when in the +flesh, has devoured a respectable citizen. When good Mr. Bowen—not the +professor—kept his museum in the mansion, occupied, before the +Revolution, by the Rev. Dr. Caner, and upon whose site the Savings Bank, +and Historical Society have their apartments, at present, nothing in all +his collection—not even the Salem Beauty—nor Marat and Charlotte +Cordé—interested me so much, as a broken sword, with a label annexed, +certifying, that, during the horrors of St. Domingo, seven and twenty of +the white inhabitants had fallen, beneath that sword, in the hands of a +gigantic negro! How long, one of the fancy will linger—“<i>patiens pulveris +atque solis</i>” for the luxury of looking upon nothing more picturesque than +the iron bars of a murderer’s cell!</p> + +<p>It had, most naturally, spread abroad, that young Philips was concealed, +on board the man of war. Hundreds may be supposed to have gathered, in +groups, straining their eyes, to get a glimpse of the Sheerness; and the +officer, who, in obedience to the warrant, proceeded, on that foggy +morning, to arrest the offender, found more difficulty, in discovering the +man of war, than was encountered, on the preceding evening, by those, who +had sought for the body of Woodbridge, upon the Common. At length, the fog +fled before the sun—the vista was opened between the Castle and Spectacle +Island—but the Sheerness was no longer there—literally, the places that +had known her, knew her no more.</p> + +<p>Some of our worthy fathers, more curious than the rest, betook themselves, +I dare say, to the cupola of the <i>old</i> townhouse—how few of us are aware, +that the present is the third, that has occupied that spot. There, with +their glasses, they swept the eastern horizon, to find the truant +ship—and enjoyed the same measure of satisfaction, that Mr. Irving +represents the lodger to have enjoyed, who was so solicitous to get a +glimpse of the “Stout Gentleman.”</p> + +<p>Over the waters she went, heavily laden, with as much misery, as could be +pent up, in the bosom of a single individual.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[Pg 558]</a></span>He was stricken with that malady, which knows no remedy from man—a mind +diseased. In one brief hour, he had disfranchised himself for ever, and +become a miserable exile.</p> + +<p>Among the officers of the Sheerness, he must have been accounted a young +lion. His <i>gallantry</i>, in the estimation of the gentlemen of the wardroom, +must have furnished a ready passport to their hearts—<i>he had killed his +man</i>!—with the <i>civilized</i>, not less than with the <i>savage</i>, this is the +proudest mark of excellence! How little must he have relished the +approbation of the thoughtless, for an act, which had made him the +wretched young man, that he was! How paltry the compensation for the +anguish he had inflicted upon others—the mourning relatives of him, whom +he had, that night, destroyed—his own connections—<i>his mother</i>—he was +too young, at twenty-two, to be insensible to the sufferings of that +mother! God knows, she had not forgotten her poor, misguided boy; as we +shall presently see she crossed the ocean, to hold the aching head, and +bind up the broken heart of her expatriated son—and arrived, only in +season, to weep upon his grave, while it was yet green.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXV" id="No_CXXXV"></a>No. CXXXV.</h2> + + +<p>It is known, that <i>old</i> Chief Justice Sewall, who died Jan. 1, 1730, kept +a diary, which is in the possession of the Rev. Samuel Sewall, of +Burlington, Mass., the son of the <i>late</i> Chief Justice Sewall. As the +death of the <i>old</i> Chief Justice occurred, about eighteen months after the +time, when the duel was fought, between Phillips and Woodbridge, it +occurred to me, that some allusion to it, might be found, in the diary.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Samuel Sewall has, very kindly, informed me, that the diary of +the Chief Justice does not refer to the duel; but that the event was +noticed by him, in his interleaved almanac, and by the Rev. Joseph Sewall, +who preached the occasional sermon, to which I have referred—in <i>his</i> +diary: and the Rev. Mr. Sewall, of Burlington, has obligingly furnished me +with such extracts, as seem to have a bearing on the subject, and with +some suggestions, in relation to the parties.</p> + +<p>On the 4th of July, 1728, Judge Sewall, in his interleaved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[Pg 559]</a></span> almanac, +writes thus—“<i>Poor Mr. Benjam. Woodbridge is found dead in the Comon this +morning, below the Powder-house, with a Sword-thrust through him, and his +own Sword undrawn. Henry Phillips is suspected. The town is amazed!</i>” This +wears the aspect of what is commonly called foul play; and the impression +might exist, that Phillips had run his antagonist through, <i>before he had +drawn his sword</i>.</p> + +<p>It is quite likely, that Judge Sewall himself had that impression, when he +made his entry, on the fourth of July: the reader will observe, he does +not say <i>sheathed</i> but <i>undrawn</i>. If there existed no evidence to rebut +this presumption, it would seem, not that there had been murder, in a +duel, but a case of the <i>most atrocious</i> murder; for nothing would be more +unlikely to happen, than that a man, after having received his death +wound, in this manner, should have sheathed his own sword. The wound was +under the right pap; he was run through; the sword had come out, at the +small of his back. How strongly, in this case, the presumptive evidence +would bear against Phillips, not that he killed Woodbridge, for of this +there is no doubt; but that he killed him, before he had drawn his own +sword.</p> + +<p>When the reader shall have read the authenticated testimony, which now +lies before me, he will see, not only that the swords of both were +drawn—but that both were wounded—that, after Woodbridge was wounded, he +either dropped his sword, or was disarmed—and, that, when he had become +helpless, and had walked some little distance from the spot, Phillips +picked up the sword of his antagonist, and returned it to the scabbard. +The proof of this, by an eye-witness, is clear, direct, and conclusive.</p> + +<p>The next extract, in order of time, is from the diary of the Rev. Joseph +Sewall, under date July, 1728—<i>“N. B. On ye 4th (wch was kept, as a Day +of Prayr upon ye account of ye Drought) we were surpris’d wth ye sad +Tidings yt Mr. Henry Phillips and Mr Woodbridge fought a duel in wch ye +latter was slain. O Ld Preserve ye Tow. and Land from the guilt of +Blood”.——“In ye Eveng. I visited Mrs. Ph. O Ld Sanctify thine awful +judgt to her. Give her Son a thorow Rcpentce.”</i></p> + +<p>These extracts are of interest, not simply because they are historical, +but as illustrative of the times.</p> + +<p>“<i>1728, July 18. I preached ye Lecture from yese words, Ps. 119, 115, +Depart from me ye evil Doers, &c. Endeavd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[Pg 560]</a></span> to shew ye evill and danger of +wicked Company.—Condemned Duelling as a bloody crime, &c. O Lord, Bless +my poor labours.</i>”</p> + +<p>“<i>1728-9, January 22. Mr. Thacher, Mr. Prince, and I met at Mrs. +Phillips, and Pray’d for her son. I hope G. graciously assisted. Ld Pardon +the hainous Sins of yt young man, convert and Heal his soul.</i>”</p> + +<p>Writing to a London correspondent, June 2, 1729, Chief Justice Sewall +says—“<i>Richard put the Letter on board Capt. Thomas Lithered, who saild +this day; in who went Madam Hannah Phillips</i>.” In his interleaved almanac +is the following entry—“<i>1729, Sept. 27, Saturday Madam Phillips arrives; +mane</i>.” The explanation of these two last entries is at hand. Jean Faneuil +of Rochelle had, doubtless, written, either to his brother André, in +Boston, or to his nephew, by marriage, Gillam Phillips, giving an account +of the wanderer, Gillam’s brother. At length, the tidings came hither, +that he was sick; and, probably, in May, 1729, intelligence arrived, that +he was <i>dangerously ill</i>. The mother’s heart was stirred within her. By +the first vessel she embarked for London, on her way to Rochelle. The eyes +of that unhappy young man were not destined to behold again the face of +her, whose daylight he had turned into darkness, and whose heart he had +broken.</p> + +<p>He died about the twentieth of May, 1729, as I infer from the documents +before me. The first of these is the account, rendered by Jean Faneuil, to +Gillam Phillips, in Jean’s own hand—“<i>Deboursement fait par Jean faneuil +pour feu Monsieur heny Phillipe de Boston</i>,” &c. He charges in this +account, for amount paid the physician, “<i>pendant sa maladie</i>.” The +doctor’s bill is sent as a voucher, and is also before me. Dr. “<i>Girard De +Villars, Aggregé au College Royal des Medicins de la Rochelle</i>” +acknowledges to have received payment in full <i>pour l’honoraire des +consultes de mes confreres et moy a Monsieur Henry Phillipe Anglois</i>, from +the fourth of April, to the twentieth of May.</p> + +<p>The apothecary’s bill of Monsieur Guinot, covering three folio pages, is +an interesting document, for something of the nature of the malady may be +inferred, from the <i>materia medica</i> employed—<i>potion anodine</i>—<i>baume +tranquille sant</i>—<i>cordial somnifere</i>. How effectually the visions, the +graphic recollections of this miserable young man must have <i>murdered +sleep</i>!</p> + +<p>The Rev. Mr. Sewall of Burlington suggests, that Mr. Benjamin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[Pg 561]</a></span> Woodbridge, +who fell in this duel, was, very probably, the grandson of the Rev. John +Woodbridge of Andover, and he adds, that his partner, Jonathan Sewall, to +whose house the body was conveyed, was a nephew of the <i>old</i> Chief +Justice, and, in 1717, was in business with an elder brother, Major Samuel +Sewall, with whom he resided. In 1726, Major Sewall “lived in a house, +once occupied by Madam Usher, near the Common;” whither the body of +Woodbridge might have been conveyed, without much trouble.</p> + +<p>The General Court, which assembled, on the 28th of that month, in which +this encounter took place, enacted a more stringent law, than had existed +before, on the subject of duelling.</p> + +<p>I shall now present the testimony, as it lies before me, certified by +Elisha Cook, J. P., before whom the examination was had, on the morning +after the duel:—</p> + +<p>“Suffolk, ss. Memorandum. Boston, July 4, 1728. Messrs. Robert Handy, +George Stewart and others being convented on examination, concerning the +murther of Benja. Woodbridge last night, Mr. Handy examined saith—that +sometime before night Mr. Benja. Woodbridge come to me at the White +horse<a name='fna_3' id='fna_3' href='#f_3'><small>[3]</small></a> and desired me to lett him (have) his own sword. I asked ye +reason: he replied he had business called him into the Country. I was +jealous he made an excuse. I urged him to tell me plainly what occasion he +had for a sword, fearing it was to meet with Mr. Henry Phillips, who had +lately fell out. He still persisted in his first story, upon which I gave +him his sword and belt,<a name='fna_4' id='fna_4' href='#f_4'><small>[4]</small></a> and then he left the Compy, Mr. Thomas Barton +being in Company, I immediately followed, and went into the Common, found +said Woodbridge walking the Common by the Powder house, his sword by his +side. I saw no person save him. I againe urged the occasion of his being +there. He denied informing. In some short time, I saw Mr. Henry Phillips +walking towards us, with his Sword by his side and Cloke on. Before he +came nere us I told them I feared there was a Quarrel and what would be +the events. They both denied it.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Phillips replied again Mr. Woodbridge and he had some particular +business that concerned them two onley and desired I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[Pg 562]</a></span> would go about my +business. I still persuaded them to let me know their design, and if any +quarrel they would make it up. Mr. Phillips used me in such a manner with +slites (slights) that I went of and left them by the powder house, this +was about eight in the evening. I went up the Common. They walked down. +After some short space I returned, being justly fearful of their designe, +in order to prevent their fiteing with Swords. I mett with them about the +Powder House. I first saw Mr. Woodbridge making up to me, holding his left +hand below his right breast. I discovered blood upon his coat, asked the +meaning of it. He told me Mr. Phillips had wounded him. Having no Sword I +enquired where it was. He said Mr. Phillips had it. Mr. Phillips +immediately came up, with Woodbridge’s sword in his hand naked, his own by +his side. I told them I was surprized they should quarrel to this degree. +I told Mr. Phillips he had wounded Mr. Woodbridge. He replied yes so he +had and Mr. Woodbridge had also wounded me, but in the fleshy part onley, +shewing me his cut fingers. Mr. Phillips took Mr. Woodbridge’s scabbard, +sheathed the Sword, and either laid it down by him, or gave it to him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Woodbridge beginning to faint satt down, and begged that surgeons +might be sent for. I immediately went away, leaving these two together. +Phillips presently followed, told me for God’s sake to go back to +Woodbridge, and take care of him, till he returned with a surgeon. I +prayed him to hasten, but did not care to returne. Mr. Phillips went away +as fast as he could and went down the lane by the Pound.<a name='fna_5' id='fna_5' href='#f_5'><small>[5]</small></a> I returned to +the White Horse. I found Mr. Barton and Geoe Reason together. I told Mr. +Barton Phillips and Woodbridge having quarreled, Woodbridge was much +wounded. I asked Barton to go and see how it was it with Woodbridge. We +went a little way from the house, with a designe to go, but Barton, +hearing Phillips was gone for a Chirurgeon, concluded Phillips would +procure a Chirurgeon, and so declined going, and went to Mr. Blin’s house +where we ware invited to supper. I have not seen Mr. Hy Phillips or +(heard) any from him, since I left him going for a Chirurgeon.”</p> + +<p>Such is the testimony of Robert Handy; and the reader will agree with me, +that, if he and Barton had been choked with their supper at Mr. Blin’s, it +would have been a “Providence.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[Pg 563]</a></span> It would be difficult to find the record +of more cruel neglect, towards a dying man. When urged to go back and +sustain Woodbridge, till a surgeon could be procured, he “<i>did not care to +returne</i>.” And Barton preferred going to his supper. The principle, which +governed these fellows, was a grossly selfish and cowardly fear of +personal implication. Upon an occasion of minor importance, a similar +principle actuated a couple of Yorkshire lads, who refused to assist, in +righting the carriage of a member of parliament, which had been +overturned, because their father had cautioned them never to meddle with +state affairs.</p> + +<p>I shall present the remaining testimony, in the following number.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXVI" id="No_CXXXVI"></a>No. CXXXVI.</h2> + + +<p>Let us proceed with the examination, before Justice Elisha Cook, on the +fourth of July, 1728.</p> + +<p>“John Cutler, of Boston, Chirurgeon, examined upon oath, saith, that, last +evening, about seven, Dr. George Pemberton came to me, at Mrs. Mears’s, +and informed, that an unhappy quarrel hapned betwene Mr. Henry Phillips +and Benja. Woodbridge, and it was to be feared Mr. Woodbridge was +desperately wounded. We went out. We soon mett Mr. Henry Phillips, who +told us he feared he had killed Mr. Woodbridge, or mortally wounded him; +that he left him at the bottom of the Common, and begged us to repaire +there and see if any relief might be given him. Doct. Pemberton and I +went, in compy with Mr. Henry Phillips, in search of said Woodbridge, but +could not find him, nor make any discovery of the affair. Mr. Phillips +left us. I bid him walk in Bromfield’s lane. We went to Mr. Woodbridge’s +lodgings, and severall other houses, but heard nothing of him. Upon our +return Mr. H. Phillips was at my house. I dresed his wound, which was +across his belly and his fingers. Mr. Phillips shew a great concern and +fear of having killed Mr. Woodbridge. I endeavored to appease him, and +hope better things; but he said, could he think he was alive, he should +think himself a happy man.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[Pg 564]</a></span>“Doct. George Pemberton, sworn, saith that last evening about seven or +eight o’clock Mr. Henry Phillips came to the Sun Tavern and informed me, +first desiring me to go out wch I did and went to my house, where said +Phillips shew me some wounds, and that he had wounded Mr. Benjamin +Woodbridge, and feared they would prove mortal—begged of me to repair to +the Comon. Accompanied with Dr. Cutler and said Phillips, in quest of said +Woodbridge, we went to the Powder house, and searched the ground there, +but could make no discovery. Mr. Phillips then left us, and walked towards +Mr. Bromfield’s lane. Dr. Cutler and I went to Mr. Woodbridge’s lodging, +and several other places, but could hear nothing of him. We returned and +found Henry Phillips, at Dr. Cutler’s, who was very greatly concerned; +fearing he had killed Mr. Woodbridge. We dressed Mr. Phillips’ wounds +which were small.”</p> + +<p>“Capt. John Winslow examined saith that last night being at Mr. Doring’s +house, Mr. Gillam Phillips, about eleven in the evening, came to me and +told me he wanted my boat to carry off his brother Henry, who had wounded +or killed a man. I went, by appointment, to Mr. Vardy’s where I soon mett +Gillam Phillips. I asked him where his brother was—who he had been +fiteing with. He made answer I should see him presently. Went down to +Colo. Estis Hatche’s where Mr. Gillam Phillips was to meet me. I gott +there first, knocked at Mr. Hatche’s door. No answer. From Mr. Hatche’s +house Mr. Peter Faneuil and Henry Phillips came into Mr. Hatche’s +yard—Mr. Gillam Phillips immediately after with Mr. Adam Tuck. I heard no +discourse about the man who was wounded. They concluded, and sent Mr. +Henry Phillips to Gibb’s wharf. Then Gillam Phillips with me to the long +wharf. I took boat there, and went on board my ship, lying in the harbor. +Mr. Phillips (Gillam) being in the bote, I took four of the Ship’s crew, +and rowed to Gibb’s Wharf, where we mett with Mr. Henry Phillips, Peter +Faneuil, and Adam Tuck. I came on shore. Henry Phillips and Tuck entred +the boat. I understood by discourse with Gillam Phillips, they designed on +board his Majestys Ship-Sheerness, Captain James Conrad Comdr. This was +about twelve and one of the Clock.”</p> + +<p>“Adam Tuck of Boston farier, examined upon oath saith, that, about eleven +of the clock, last evening, being at Luke Vardy’s I understood there had +bin a quarril betwene Henry Phillips<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[Pg 565]</a></span> and Benja. Woodbridge, and that +Phillips had killed or mortally wounded Woodbridge. Gillam Phillips Esq. +being there, I walked with him towards Colo. Hatches, where we came up +with Capt. Jno. Winslow, and Henry Phillips, and Peter Faneuil. We all +went to Gibb’s wharf, when we, that is Mr. Gillam and Henry Phillips, with +the examinant went on board Capt. John Winslow’s boat. We designed, as I +understood, to go on board his Majesie’s ship Sheerness, in order to leave +Mr. Henry Phillips on board the man of War, who, as he told me, had, he +feared, wounded a man, that evening on the Comon, near the water side. The +person’s name I understood was Woodbridge. Soon after our being on board +Lt. Pritchard caried us into his apartment, where Gillam Phillips related +to the Leut. the rancounter that hapned betwene his brother Henry and +Benja. Woodbridge. I took the intent of their going on board the man of +War was to conceale Mr. Henry Phillips. We stayed on board about an hour +and a half. We left Mr. Henry Phillips on board the Man of War and came up +to Boston.”</p> + +<p>“John Underwood, at present residing in Boston, mariner, belonging to the +Pink Molle, John Winslow Comdr. now lying in the harbour of Boston, being +examined upon oath, concerning the death or murther of Mr. Benjamin +Woodbridge, saith, that about twelve o’clock last night, his Captn John +Winslow, with another person, unknown to him came on board. The Captn +ordered the boat with four of our hands, I being one, to go to a Wharf at +the South end of the Town, where we went, and there the Capt. went on +Shore, and two other persons came into the Boat without the Captn. We put +of and by the discourse we were designed to go on board the Man of Whar, +but by reason of the fogg or thick weather we gott on shore at Dorchester +neck, went up to a house and stayed there about an hour and half, then +returned to our boat, took in the three persons affore-named, as I +suppose, with our crew, and went on board the Man of War, now lying +betwene the Castle & Specta Island. We all went on board with the men we +took in at the Wharf, stayed there for the space of an hour, and then came +up to Boston, leaving one of the three onley on board, and landed by +Oliver’s Dock.”</p> + +<p>“Wm. Pavice of Boston, one of the Pink Molly’s crew, examined upon oath, +saith as above declared by John Underwood.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[Pg 566]</a></span>“James Wood and John Brown, mariners, belonging to the Pink Molly, being +examined upon oath, declare as above. John Brown cannot say, or knows not +how many persons they took from the shore, at Gibb’s wharf, but is +positive but two returned to Boston. They both say they cant be sure +whether the Capt. went in the boat from the ship to the shoar.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Peter Faneuil examined saith, that, last evening, about twelve, he +was with Gillam Phillips, Henry Phillips and Adam Tuck at Gibb’s wharf, +and understood by Gillam Phillips, that his brother Henry had killed or +mortally wounded Mr. Benja. Woodbridge this evening, that Henry Phillips +went into Capt’n Winslow’s boat, with his brother and Adam Tuck with the +Boat’s crew, where they went he knows not.”</p> + +<p>Such was the evidence, presented before the examining justice, on the +fourth of July, 1728, in relation to this painful, and extraordinary +occurrence.</p> + +<p>I believe I have well nigh completed my operation, upon Peter Faneuil: but +before I throw aside my professional apron, let me cast about, and see, if +there are no small arteries which I have not taken up. I perceive there +are.</p> + +<p>The late Rev. Dr. Gray, of Jamaica Plains, on page 8 of his half century +sermon, published in 1842, has the following passage—“<i>The third or +Jamaica Plain Parish, in Roxbury, had its origin in the piety of an +amiable female. I refer to Mrs. Susanna, wife of Benjamin Pemberton. She +was the daughter of Peter Faneuil, who, in 1740 erected and gave to the +Town of Boston the far-famed Hall, which still bears his name; and who +built also the dwelling house, now standing here, recently known, as late +Dr. John Warren’s Country seat.</i>”</p> + +<p>Nothing could have been farther from the meaning of the amiable Mr. Gray, +than a design to cast a reproach, upon the unimpeachable pedigree of this +excellent lady. But Peter Faneuil was, unfortunately, never married. He +was a bachelor; and is styled “<i>Bachelour</i>,” in the commission, from John, +Archbishop of Canterbury, to Judge Willard, to administer the oath to +Benjamin Faneuil, as administrator, on Peter’s estate. Peter’s estate was +divided, among his brother, Benjamin, and his four sisters, Anne +Davenport, Susanna Boutineau, Mary Phillips, and Mary Ann Jones. This fact +is established, by the original indenture of marriage settlement, now +before me, between John Jones and Mary Ann Faneuil, dated the very month +of Peter’s decease.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[Pg 567]</a></span> He had no daughter to inherit. Mrs. Susanna Pemberton +had not a drop of the Faneuil blood, in her veins. Her nearest +approximation consisted in the fact, that George Bethune, her own brother, +married, as I have already stated, Mary Faneuil, Peter’s niece, and the +daughter of Benjamin. Benjamin occupied that cottage, before he removed to +Brighton. He had also a town residence, in rear of the Old Brick +Meeting-house, which stood where Joy’s buildings now stand.</p> + +<p>Thomas Kilby was the commercial agent of Peter Faneuil, at Canso, Nova +Scotia, in 1737, 8 and 9. He was a gentleman of education; graduated at +Harvard, in 1723, and died in 1740, and according to Pemberton, published +essays, in prose and verse. Not long ago, a gentleman inquired of me, if I +had ever heard, that Peter Faneuil had a wooden leg; and related the +following amusing story, which he received from his collateral ancestor, +John Page, who graduated at Harvard, in 1765, and died in 1825, aged 81.</p> + +<p>Thomas Kilby was an unthrifty, and rather whimsical, gentleman. Being +without property and employment, he retired, either into Maine, or Nova +Scotia. There he made a will, for his amusement, having, in reality, +nothing to bequeath. He left liberal sums to a number of religious, +philanthropic, and literary institutions—his eyes, which were very good, +to a blind relative—his body to a surgeon of his acquaintance, “excepting +as hereinafter excepted”—his sins he bequeathed to a worthy clergyman, as +he appeared not to have any—and the choice of his legs to Peter Faneuil.</p> + +<p>Upon inquiry of the oldest surviving relative of Peter, I found, that +nothing was known of the wooden leg.</p> + +<p>A day or two after, a highly respectable and aged citizen, attracted by +the articles, in the Transcript, informed me, that his father, born in +1727, told him, that he had seen Peter Faneuil, in his garden, and that, +on one foot, he wore a very high-heeled shoe. This, probably, gave +occasion to the considerate bequest of Thomas Kilby.</p> + +<p>The will, as my informant states, upon the authority of Mr. John Page, +coming to the knowledge of Peter, he was so much pleased with the humor of +it, that, probably, having a knowledge of the <i>testator</i> before, he sent +for him, and made him his agent, at Canso.</p> + +<p>Peter was a kind-hearted man. The gentleman who gave me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[Pg 568]</a></span> the fact, +concerning the high-heeled shoe, informed me, upon his father’s authority, +that old Andrew Faneuil—the same, who, in his will, prays God, for “<i>the +perfecting of his charities</i>”—put a poor, old, schoolmaster, named +Walker, into jail, for debt. Imprisonment then, for debt, was a serious +and lingering affair. Peter, in the flesh—not his angel—privately paid +the poor man’s debt, and set the prisoner free.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXVII" id="No_CXXXVII"></a>No. CXXXVII.</h2> + + +<p>Those words of Horace were the words of soberness and truth—<i>Oh +imitatores, vulgum pecus!</i>—I loathe imitators and imitations of all +sorts. How cheap must that man feel, who awakens <i>hesterno vitio</i>, from +yesterday’s debauch, on <i>imitation</i> gin or brandy! Let no reader of the +Transcript suppose, that I am so far behind the times, as to question the +respectability of being drunk, on the real, original Scheidam or Cogniac, +whether at funerals, weddings, or ordinations. But I consider <i>imitation</i> +gin or brandy, at a funeral, a point blank insult to the corpse.</p> + +<p>Everybody knows, that old oaks, old friendships, and old mocha must +grow—they cannot be made. My horse is frightened, nearly out of his +harness, almost every day of his life, by the hissing and jetting of the +steam, and the clatter of the machinery, as I pass a manufactory, or +grindery, of <i>imitation</i> coffee. <i>Imitation</i> coffee! What would my old +friend, Melli Melli, the Tunisian ambassador, with whom—long, long ago—I +have taken a cup of his own particular, once and again, at Chapotin’s +Hotel, in Summer Street, say to such a thing as this!</p> + +<p>This grindery is located, in an Irish neighborhood, and there used to be a +great number of Irish children thereabouts. The number has greatly +diminished of late. I know not why, but, as I passed, the other day, the +story that Dickens tells of the poor sausage-maker, whose broken buttons, +among the sausage meat, revealed his unlucky destiny, came forcibly to +mind. By the smell, I presume, there is a roastery, connected with the +establishment; and, now I think of it, the atmosphere, round about, is +filled with the odor of roast pig—a little overdone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[Pg 569]</a></span>Good things, of all sorts, have stimulated the imitative powers of man, +from the diamond to the nutmeg. Even death—and death is a good thing to +him, whose armor of righteousness is on, <i>cap-a-pie</i>—death has been +occasionally imitated; and really, now and then, the thing has been very +cleverly done. I refer not to cases of catalepsy or trance, nor to cases +of total suspension of sensibility and voluntary motion, for a time, under +the agency of sulphuric ether, or chloroform.</p> + +<p>In 1843, at the request of her Majesty’s principal Secretary of State, for +the Home Department, Mr. Edwin Chadwick, Barrister at Law, made “<i>a report +on the results of a special inquiry into the practice of interment in +towns</i>.” This report is very severe upon our fraternity; but, I must +confess, it is a most able and interesting performance, and full of +curious detail. The demands of the English undertaker, it appears, are so +oppressive upon the poor, that burial societies have been formed, upon the +mutual principle. It is asserted by Mr. Chadwick, that parents, under the +gripings of poverty, have actually poisoned their children, to obtain the +burial money. At the Chester assizes, several trials, for infanticide, +have occurred, on these grounds. “<i>That child will not live, it is in the +burial club</i>,” is a cant and common phrase, among the Manchester paupers.</p> + +<p>Some very clever impositions, have been practised, to obtain the burial +allowance. A man, living in Manchester, resolved to play corpse, for this +laudable object. His wife was privy to the plot, of course,—and gave +notice, in proper form, of her bereavement. The agent of the society made +the customary domiciliary visit. There the body lay—stiff and stark—and +a very straight and proper corpse it was—the jaw decently tied up. The +visitor, well convinced, and quite touched by the widow’s anguish, was +turning on his heel to depart, when a slight motion of the dead man’s +eyelid arrested his attention: he began to smell—not of the body, like +the bear in Æsop—but a rat. Upon feeling the pulse, he begged the chief +mourner to be comforted; there was strong ground for hope! More obstinate +than Rachel, she not only would not be comforted, but abused the visitor, +in good Gaelic, for questioning her veracity. Had she not laid out the +daar man, her own daar Tooly Mashee, with her own hands! and didn’t she +know better than to be after laying him out, while the brith was in his +daar buddy! and would she be guilty of so cruel a thing to her own good +man! The doctor was called;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[Pg 570]</a></span> and, after feeling the pulse, threw a bucket +of water, in the face of the defunct, which resulted in immediate +resurrection.</p> + +<p>The most extraordinary case of imitation death on record, and which, under +the acknowledged rules of evidence, it is quite impossible to disbelieve, +is that of the East India Fakeer, who was buried alive at Lahore, in 1837, +and at the end of forty days, disinterred, and resuscitated. This tale is, +<i>prima facie</i>, highly improbable: let us examine the evidence. It is +introduced, in the last English edition of Sharon Turner’s Sacred History +of the World, vol. iii., in a note upon Letter 25. The witness is Sir +Claude M. Wade, who, at the time of the Fakeer’s burial, and disinterment, +was political resident, at Loodianah, and principal agent of the English +government, at the court of Runjeet Singh. The character of this witness +is entirely above suspicion; and the reader will observe, in his +testimony, anything but the marks and numbers of a credulous witness, or a +dealer in the marvellous. Mr. Wade addressed a letter to the editor of +Turner’s History, from which the following extracts are made:—</p> + +<p>“I was present, at the court of Runjeet Singh, at Lahore, in 1837, when +the Fakeer, mentioned by the Hon. Capt. Osborne, was buried alive, for six +weeks; and, though I arrived, a few hours after his interment, I had the +testimony of Runjeet Singh, himself, and others, the most credible +witnesses of his court, to the truth of the Fakeer having been so buried +before them; and from having been present myself, when he was disinterred, +and restored to a state of perfect vitality, in a position so close to +him, as to render any deception impossible, it is my firm belief that +there was no collusion, in producing the extraordinary fact, that I have +related.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wade proceeds to give an account of the disinterment. “On the approach +of the appointed time, according to invitation, I accompanied Runjeet +Singh to the spot, where the Fakeer had been buried. It was a square +building, called, in the language of the country, <i>Barra Durree</i>, in the +midst of one of the gardens, adjoining the palace at Lahore, with an open +verandah all around, having an enclosed room in the centre. On arriving +there, Runjeet Singh, who was attended on the occasion, by the whole of +his court, dismounting from his elephant, asked me to join him, in +examining the building, to satisfy himself that it was closed, as he had +left it. We did so. There had been an open door, on each of the four sides +of the room, three of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_571" id="Page_571">[Pg 571]</a></span> were perfectly closed with brick and mortar. +The fourth had a strong door, also closed with mud, up to the padlock, +which was sealed with the private seal of Runjeet Singh, in his own +presence, when the Fakeer was interred. In fact, the exterior of the +building presented no aperture whatever, by which air could be admitted, +nor any communication held, by which food could possibly be conveyed to +the Fakeer; and I may also add, that the walls, closing the doorways, bore +no marks of having been recently disturbed or removed.”</p> + +<p>“Runjeet Singh recognized the impression of the seal, as the one, which he +had affixed: and, as he was as skeptical, as any European could be, of the +successful result of such an enterprise, to guard, as far as possible, +against any collusion, he had placed two companies, from his own personal +escort, near the building, from which four sentries were furnished, and +relieved, every two hours, night and day, to guard the building from +intrusion. At the same time, he ordered one of the principal officers of +his court to visit the place occasionally, and report the result of his +inspection to him; while he himself, or his minister, kept the seal which +closed the hole of the padlock, and the latter received the reports of the +officers on guard, morning and evening.”</p> + +<p>“After our examination, and we had seated ourselves in the verandah, +opposite the door, some of Runjeet’s people dug away the mud wall, and one +of his officers broke the seal, and opened the padlock.”</p> + +<p>“On the door being thrown open, nothing but a dark room was to be seen. +Runjeet Singh and myself then entered it, in company with the servant of +the Fakeer. A light was brought, and we descended about three feet below +the floor of the room, into a sort of cell, in which a wooden box, about +four feet long, by three broad, with a square sloping roof, containing the +Fakeer, was placed upright, the door of which had also a padlock and seal, +similar to that on the outside. On opening it, we saw”—</p> + +<p>But I am reminded, by observing the point I have reached, upon my sheet of +paper, that it is time to pause. There are others, who have something to +say to the public, of more importance, about rum, sugar and molasses, +turtle soup and patent medicine, children, that are lost, and puppies, +that are found.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_572" id="Page_572">[Pg 572]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXVIII" id="No_CXXXVIII"></a>No. CXXXVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Sir Claude M. Wade, the reader may remember, was proceeding thus—“On +opening it,” (the box containing the Fakeer) “we saw a figure, enclosed in +a bag of white linen, drawn together, and fastened by a string over the +head; on the exposure of which a grand salute was fired, and the +surrounding multitude came crowding to the door to see the spectacle. +After they had gratified their curiosity, the Fakeer’s servant, putting +his arms into the box, took the figure of his master out; and, closing the +door, placed it, with his back against the door, exactly as he had been +squatted, like a Hindoo idol, in the box itself. Runjeet Singh and I then +descended into the cell, which was so small, that we were only able to sit +on the ground in front, and so close to the body, as to touch it with our +hands and knees. The servant then began pouring warm water over the +figure, but, as my object was to watch if any fraudulent practice could be +detected, I proposed to Runjeet Singh, to tear open the bag, and have a +perfect view of the body, before any means of resuscitation were +attempted. I accordingly did so; and may here remark, that the bag, when +first seen by us, looked mildewed, as if it had been buried for some time. +The legs and arms of the body were shrivelled and stiff, the face full, as +in life, and the head reclining on the shoulder, like that of a corpse.”</p> + +<p>“I then called to the medical gentleman, who was attending me, to come +down and inspect the body, which he did, but could discover no pulsation, +in the heart, temples or the arms. There was however, a heat, about the +region of the brain, which no other part of the body exhibited. The +servant then commenced bathing him with hot water, and gradually relaxing +his arms and legs from the rigid state, in which they were contracted; +Runjeet Singh taking his right and left leg, to aid by friction in +restoring them to their proper action, during which time the servant +placed a hot wheaten cake, about an inch thick, on the top of the head—a +process, which he twice or thrice repeated. He then took out of his +nostrils and ears the wax and cotton plugs, with which they were stopped, +and after great exertion, opened his mouth, by inserting the point of a +knife between the teeth, and while holding his jaws<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573">[Pg 573]</a></span> open, with his left +hand, drew the tongue forward, with the forefinger of the right, in the +course of which the tongue flew back, several times, to its curved +position upwards, that in which it had originally been placed, so as to +close the gullet. He then rubbed his eyelids with ghee (clarified butter) +for some time, till he succeeded in opening them, when the eye appeared +quite motionless and glazed. After the cake had been applied for the third +time, to the top of the head, the body was convulsively heaved, the +nostrils became violently inflated, respiration ensued, and the limbs +began to assume a natural fulness. The servant then put some ghee on his +tongue, and made him swallow it. A few minutes afterwards, the eyeballs +became slowly dilated, recovered their natural color, and the Fakeer, +recognizing Runjeet Singh, sitting close by him, articulated, in a low +sepulchral tone, scarcely audible—‘<i>Do you believe me now?</i>’”</p> + +<p>“Runjeet Singh replied in the affirmative; and then began investing the +Fakeer with a pearl necklace, a superb pair of gold bracelets, shawls, and +pieces of silk and muslin, forming what is called a <i>khilet</i>, such as is +usually conferred, by the princes of India, on persons of distinction. +From the time of the box being opened to the recovery of the voice, not +more than half an hour could have elapsed; and, in another half an hour, +the Fakeer talked with himself and those about him freely, though feebly, +like a sick person, and we then left him, convinced that there had been no +fraud or collusion, in the exhibition, which we had witnessed.”</p> + +<p>The Hon. Captain Osborne, who was attached to the mission of Sir William +Macnaughten, in the following year, 1838, sought to persuade the Fakeer to +repeat the experiment, and to suffer the keys of the vault to remain in +Captain Osborne’s custody. At this the Fakeer became alarmed, though he +afterwards consented, and, at the request of Runjeet Singh, he came to +Lahore for the purpose; but, as he expressed a strong apprehension, that +Captain Osborne intended to destroy him, and as Sir William Macnaughten +and his suite were about to depart, the matter was given up. This is +related by Captain Osborne, in his “Court and Camp of Runjeet Singh.”</p> + +<p>After avowing his entire belief in all the facts, set forth in the +previous narrative, Sir Claude M. Wade remarks—“I took some pains to +inquire into the mode, by which such a result<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_574" id="Page_574">[Pg 574]</a></span> was effected; and was +informed, that it rested on a doctrine of the Hindoo physiologists, that +heat constitutes the self existent principle of life; and, that, if the +functions are so far destroyed, as to leave that one, in perfect purity, +life could be sustained for considerable lengths of time, independently of +air, food, or any other means of sustenance. To produce such a state, the +patients are obliged to go through a severe preparation. How far such +means are calculated to produce such effects physiologists will be better +able to judge than I can pretend to do. I only state what I saw, and +heard, and think.”</p> + +<p>This narrative certainly belongs to the very first part of the very first +book of very wonderful things. But this marvellous book is no longer a +closed volume. Millions of ingenious fingers have, for fifty years, been +busily employed, in breaking its mysterious seals, one after another. +Demonstration has trampled upon doubt, and the world is rapidly coming to +my shrewd old grandmother’s conclusion, that nothing is so truly +wonderful, as that we wonder at all. There is nothing more difficult, than +to exonerate the mind from the weight of its present consciousness, and to +wonder by rule. We readily lose the recollection of our doubt and +derision, upon former occasions, when matters, apparently quite as absurd +and impossible, are presented for contemplation, <i>de novo</i>.</p> + +<p>If putrefaction can be kept off, mere animal life, the vital principle, +may be preserved, for a prodigious length of time, in the lower ranks of +animal creation, while in a state of torpidity. Dr. Gillies relates, that +he bottled up some <i>cerastes</i>, a species of small snakes, and kept them +corked tight, with nothing in the bottle, but a little sand, for several +years; and, when the bottle was uncorked, they came forth, revived by the +air, and immediately acquired their original activity.</p> + +<p>More than fifty years ago, having read Dr. Franklin’s account of the +flies, which he discovered, drowned, in a bottle of old wine, and which he +restored to life, by exposure to the sun’s rays; I bottled up a dozen +flies, in a small phial of Madeira—took them out, at the expiration of a +month—and placed them under a glass tumbler, in a sunny window. Within +half an hour, nine revived; got up; walked about, wiped their faces with +their fore legs; trimmed their wings, with their hinder ones; and began to +knock their heads, against the tumbler, to escape. After waiting a couple +of hours, to give the remaining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_575" id="Page_575">[Pg 575]</a></span> three a fair chance, but to no purpose, +and expecting nothing from the humane society, for what I had already +accomplished, I returned the nine to their wine bath, in the phial. After +rather more than three months, I repeated the experiment of resuscitation. +After several hours, two gave evidence of revival, got upon their legs, +reeled against each other, and showed some symptoms of <i>mania a potu</i>. At +length they were fairly on their trotters. I lifted the tumbler; they took +the hint, and flew to the window glass. It was fly time. I watched one of +those, who had profited by the revival—he got four or five flies about +him, who really seemed to be listening to the account of his experience.</p> + +<p>“Ants, bees, and wasps,” says Sharon Turner, in his Sacred History, vol. +i. ch. 17, “especially the smallest of these, the ants, do things, and +exercise sensibilities, and combine for purposes, and achieve ends, that +bring them nearer to mankind, than any other class of animated nature.” +Aye, I know, myself, some of our fellow-citizens, who make quite a stir, +in their little circles, petty politicians, who extort responses from +great men, and show them, <i>in confidence</i>, to all they meet—overgrown +boys, in bands and cassocks, who, for mere exercise, edit religious +newspapers, and scribble <i>treason</i>, under the name of <i>ethics</i>—who, in +respect to all the qualities, enumerated by Sharon Turner, are decidedly +inferior to pismires.</p> + +<p>The hybernation of various animals furnishes analogous examples of the +matter, under consideration. A suspension of faculties and functions, for +a considerable time, followed by a periodical restoration of their use, +forms a part of the natural history of certain animals.</p> + +<p>Those forty days—that wonderful quarantine of the Fakeer, in the tomb, +and his subsequent restoration, are marvels. I have presented the facts, +upon the evidence of Sir Claude M. Wade. Every reader will philosophize, +upon this interesting matter, for himself. If such experiments can be +made, for forty days, it is not easy to comprehend the necessity of such a +limit. If trustees were appointed, and gave bonds to keep the tomb +comfortable, and free from rats, and to knock up a corpse, at the time +appointed, forty years, or an hundred, might answer quite as well. What +visions are thus opened to the mind. An author might go to sleep, and wake +up in the midst of posterity, and find himself an entire stranger. Weary +partners might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576">[Pg 576]</a></span> find a temporary respite, in the grave, and leave +directions, to be called, in season to attend the funeral. The heir +expectant of some tenacious ancestor might thus dispose of the drowsy and +unprofitable interval. The gentleman of <i>petite fortune</i> might suffer it +to accumulate, in the hands of trustees, and wake up, after twenty or +thirty years, a man of affluence. Instead of making up a party for the +pyramids, half a dozen merry fellows might be buried together, with the +pleasant prospect of rising again in 1949. No use whatever being made of +the time thus relinquished, and the powers of life being husbanded in the +interim, years would pass uncounted, of course; and he, who was buried, at +twenty-one, would be just of age when he awoke. I should like, extremely, +to have the opinion of the Fakeer, upon these interesting points.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXXXIX" id="No_CXXXIX"></a>No. CXXXIX.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>“And much more honest to be hir’d, and stand<br /> +With auctionary hammer in thy hand,<br /> +Provoking to give more, and knocking thrice,<br /> +For the old household stuff or picture’s price.”<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;"><span class="smcap">Dryden.</span></span></td></tr></table> + + +<p>Old customs, dead and buried, long ago, do certainly come round again, +like old comets; but, whether in their appointed seasons, or not, I cannot +tell. Whether old usages, and old chairs, and old teapots revolve in their +orbits, or not, I leave to the astronomers. It would be very pleasant to +be able to calculate the return of hoops, cocked hats, and cork rumpers, +buffets, pillions, links, pillories, and sedans.</p> + +<p>I noticed the following paragraph, in the Evening Transcript, not long +ago, and it led me to turn over some heaps of old relics, in my +possession—</p> + +<p>“A substitute for the everlasting ‘going, going, gone,’ was introduced at +a recent auction in New York. The auctioneer held up a sand-glass, through +which the sand occupied fourteen seconds in passing. If a person made a +bid, the glass was held up in view of all, and if no person advanced on +the bid before the sand passed through, the sale was made. This idea is a +novel one, though we believe it has long been practised in Europe.”</p> + +<p>It was formerly the custom in England, to sell goods, at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_577" id="Page_577">[Pg 577]</a></span>auction, “by +inch of candle.” An inch of candle was lighted, and the company proceeded +to bid, the last crier or bidder, before the candle went out, was declared +the purchaser. Samuel Pepys, who was Secretary of the Admiralty, in the +reigns of the two last Stuarts, repeatedly refers to the practice, in his +Diary. Thus, in Braybrook’s edition, of 1848, he says, vol. i. page 151, +under date Nov. 6, 1660—“To our office, where we met all, for the sale of +two ships, by an inch of candle, (the first time that I saw any of this +kind,) where I observed how they do invite one another, and at last how +they all do cry; and we have much to do to tell who did cry last.”</p> + +<p>Again, Ibid., vol. ii. page 29, Sept. 3, 1662—“After dinner, we met and +sold the Weymouth, Successe, and Fellowship hulkes, where pleasant to see +how backward men are at first to bid; and yet, when the candle is going +out, how they bawl, and dispute afterwards who bid the most first. And +here I observed one man cunninger than the rest, that was sure to bid the +last man, and carry it; and, inquiring the reason, he told me, that, just +as the flame goes out, the smoke descends, which is a thing I never +observed before, and, by that he do know the instant when to bid last.” +Again, Ibid., vol. iv. page 4, Ap. 3, 1667, he refers to certain prize +goods, “bought lately at the candle.”</p> + +<p>Haydn says this species of auction, by inch of candle is derived from a +practice, in the Roman Catholic Church. Where there is an excommunication, +by inch of candle, and the sinner is allowed to come to repentance, while +yet the candle burns. The sinner is supposed, of course, to be +<i>going—going—gone</i>—unless he avails of the opportunity to bid, as it +were, for his salvation. This naturally reminds the reader of the +spiritual distich—</p> + +<p class="poem">“For while the lamp holds out to burn,<br /> +The vilest sinner may return.”</p> + +<p>Where the bids are, from a maximum, downward, the term—<i>auction</i>—is +still commonly, though improperly employed, and in the very teeth of all +etymology. When I was a boy, the poor, in many of our country towns, were +disposed of, in this manner. The question was, who would take Daddy +Osgood, one of the town’s poor, for the smallest weekly sum, to be paid by +the town. The old man was started, at four shillings, and bid down to a +minimum. There was yet a little work in his old bones; and I well remember +one of these auctions, in 1798, in the town<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_578" id="Page_578">[Pg 578]</a></span> of Billerica, at which Dr. +William Bowers bid off Daddy Osgood, for two and sixpence.</p> + +<p>The Dutch have a method of selling fresh fish, which is somewhat analogous +to this, and very simple and ingenious. An account of it may be found, in +Dodsley’s Annual Register, for 1760, vol. iii. page 170. The salesman is +called the Affslager. The fish are brought in, in the morning, and placed +on the ground, near the fish stalls of the retailers. At ten, precisely, +the Affslager rings his bell, which may be heard, for half a mile. +Retailers, and individual consumers collect, and the Affslager—the +auctioneer—puts up a lot, at a maximum price. No one offers a less sum, +but the mynheers stand round, sucking at their pipes, and puffing away, +and saying nothing. When the Affslager becomes satisfied, that nobody will +buy the lot, at the price named, he gradually lowers it, until one of the +mynheers takes his pipe from his mouth and cries “<i>mine!</i>” in High Dutch. +He is, of course, the purchaser; and the Affslager proceeds to the sale of +another lot.</p> + +<p>It will be seen, from one of the citations from Pepys, that some of <i>the +auctions</i> of his time were called <i>the candles</i>; precisely as the +auctions, at Rome, were called <i>hastæ</i>; a spear or <i>hasta</i>, instead of a +flag, being the customary signal for the sale. The proper word, however, +was <i>auctio</i>, and the auctioneer was called <i>auctor</i>. Notice of the sale +was given, by the crier, <i>a præcone prædicari</i>, Plaut. Men., v. 9, 94, or, +by writing on tables. Such is the import of <i>tabulum proscripsit</i>, in +Cicero’s letter to his brother Quintus, ii. 6.</p> + +<p>In the year 1824, passing through the streets of Natchez, I saw a slave, +walking along, and ringing a bell, as he went; the bell very much +resembled our cowbells, in size and form. Upon a signal from a citizen, +the slave stopped ringing, and walked over to him, and stood before him, +till he had read the advertisement of a sale at auction, placarded on the +breast of the slave, who then went forward, ringing his bell, as before. +The Romans made their bids, by lifting the finger; and the auctioneer +added as many <i>sesterces</i>, as he thought amounted to a reasonable bid.</p> + +<p>Cicero uses this expression in his fine oration against Verres, i +54—<i>digitum tollit Junius patruus—Junius, his paternal uncle, raised his +finger</i>, that is, he made a bid.</p> + +<p>The employment of a spear, as the signal of an auction sale,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_579" id="Page_579">[Pg 579]</a></span> is supposed +to have arisen from the fact, that the only articles, originally sold, in +this manner, were the spoils of war. Subsequently, the +spear—<i>hasta</i>—came to be universally used, to signify a <i>sale at +auction</i>. The auction of Pompey’s goods, by Cæsar, is repeatedly alluded +to, by Cicero, with great severity, as the <i>hasta Cæsaris</i>. A passage may +be found, in his treatise, <i>De Officiis</i>, ii. 8, and another, in his +eighth Philippic, sec. 3—“Invitus dico, sed dicendum est. Hasta Cæsaris, +Patres Conscripti, multis improbis spem affert, et audaciam. Viderunt +enim, ex mendicis fieri repente divites: itaque hastam semper videre +cupiunt ii, qui nostris bonis imminent; quibus omnia pollicetur Antonius.” +I say it reluctantly, but it must be said—Cæsar’s auction, Conscript +Fathers, inflames the hopes and the insolence of many bad men. For they +see how immediately, the merest beggars are converted into men of wealth. +Therefore it is that those, who are hankering after our goods and +chattels, and to whom Antony has promised all things, are ever longing to +behold such another auction, as that.</p> + +<p>The auctioneer’s bell, in use, at the Hague, in 1760, was introduced into +Boston, seventy-seven years ago, by Mr. Bicker, whose auction-room was +near the Market. Having given some offence to the public, he inserted the +following notice, in the Boston Gazette and Country Journal, Monday, April +18, 1774—“As the method, lately practised by the Subscriber, in having a +Person at his Door, to invite Gentlemen and others to his public +Sales—has given Dissatisfaction to some (Gentlemen Shopkeepers in +particular) to avoid giving Offence for the future, he shall desist from +that Practice, and pursue one (as follows) which he flatters himself +cannot fail giving universal Satisfaction, as he sincerely wishes so to +do. The Public are most earnestly requested to remember (<i>for their own +advantage</i>) that, for the future, Notice will be given, by sounding a +Bell, which he has purchased for that Purpose, which is erected over the +Auction Room Door, near the Market, Boston, where constant Attendance is +given both early and late, to receive the favors of all such who are +pleased to confer on their <i>Much obliged, Most Obedient, and very humble +Servant</i>, M. Bicker.”</p> + +<p>Albeit there is no less bickering or dickering here now, than of yore, yet +Bicker and his bell have gone, long ago, to the “receptacle of things lost +upon earth.” The very name is no more.</p> + +<p>Haydn says, the first auction in Britain was about 1700, by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_580" id="Page_580">[Pg 580]</a></span> Elisha Yale, +a Governor of Fort George, in the East Indies, of the goods he had brought +home with him. That Mr. Haydn must be mistaken is manifest, from the +citation from Pepys, who speaks of auctions, by inch of candle, as early +as 1660; and not then as a novelty, but the first of the kind that he had +witnessed.</p> + +<p>Fosbroke says, in his Antiquities, page 412—“In the middle age, the goods +were cried and sold to the highest bidder, and the sound of a trumpet +added with a very loud noise. The use of the spear was retained, the +auctions being called <i>Subhastationes</i>; and the <i>Subhastator</i>, or +auctioneer, was sworn to sell the goods faithfully. In Nares, we have, +<i>sold at a pike or spear</i>, i. e. by public auction or outcry; and auctions +called <i>port sales</i>, because originally, perhaps, sales made in ports—the +crier stood under the spear, as in the Roman æra, and was, in the +thirteenth century, called <i>cursor</i>.”</p> + +<p>Of late, <i>mock auctions</i>, as they are termed, have become a very serious +evil, especially in the city of New York. In 1813 petitions, in regard to +these public impositions, were sent to the Lords of the Treasury, from +many of the principal cities of Great Britain. In 1818 a select committee +reported, very fully, upon this subject, to the British Parliament. This +committee, after long and critical investigation, reported, that great +frauds were constantly committed on the public, by <i>mock</i> or fraudulent +<i>auctions</i>. The committee set forth several examples of this species of +knavery. Goods are sold, as the furniture of gentlemen, going abroad. For +this purpose, empty houses are hired for a few days, and filled with +comparatively worthless furniture. Articles of the most inferior +manufacture are made for the express purpose of being put into such sales, +as the property of individuals of known character and respectability. To +impose, more effectually, on the public, the names of the most respectable +auctioneers have been used, with the variation of a letter. This bears +some analogy to the legislative change of name, in this city, for the +purpose of facilitating the sale of inferior pianos. Respectable +auctioneers have been compelled, in self-defence, to appear at such mock +auctions, and disclaim all connection therewith. Great masses of cutlery +and plated ware of base manufacture, with London makers’ names, and +advertised, as made in London, are constantly sold, at these auctions; +forcing the London makers to appear at the sales rooms, and expose the +fraud.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_581" id="Page_581">[Pg 581]</a></span>The committee say that no imposition is more common than the sale of +ordinary wine, in bottles, as the <i>bonne bouche</i> of some respectable +Amphitryon deceased.</p> + +<p>They farther state, that daring men are known to combine, attend real +sales, and by various means, drive respectable purchasers away, purchase +at their own price, and afterwards privately sell, under a form of public +sale, among themselves, at <i>Knock Out</i> auctions, as they are called.</p> + +<p>The committee recommended an entire revision of the auction laws—an +increase of the license—heavier penalties for violation—no sale, without +previous exposure of the goods for twenty-four hours, or printed +catalogue—name and address of the auctioneer to be published—severe +penalty, for using a fictitious name, &c.</p> + +<p>The whole advertising system of mock auctions, like that, connected with +the kindred impostures of quackery and patent medicines, furnishes a vast +amount of curious and entertaining reading; and affords abundant scope, +for the exercise of a vicious ingenuity. I have heard of a horse, that +could not be compelled, by whip or spur, to cross a bridge, which lay in +the way to his owner’s country residence—the horse was advertised to be +sold at auction for no fault but that his owner was <i>desirous of going out +of the city</i>.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXL" id="No_CXL"></a>No. CXL.</h2> + + +<p>Few things are more difficult, than shaving a cold corpse, and making, +what the <i>artistes</i> call <i>a good job of it</i>. I heard Robert New say so, +forty years ago, who kept his shop, at the north—easterly corner of +Scollay’s buildings. He said the barber ought to be called, as soon, as +the breath was out of the body, and a little before, if it was a clear +case, and you wished the corpse “<i>to look wholesome</i>.” I think he was +right. Pope’s Narcissa said—</p> + +<p class="poem">“One need not sure be ugly, though one’s dead.”</p> + +<p>There is considerable mystery, in shaving a living corpse. I find it so; +and yet I have always shaved myself; for I have never been able to +overcome a strong, hereditary prejudice, against being taken by the nose.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_582" id="Page_582">[Pg 582]</a></span>My razor is very capricious; so, I suppose, is everybody’s razor. There is +a deep and mystical philosophy, about the edge of a razor, which seems to +have baffled the most scientific; and is next of kin to witchcraft. A +tract, by Cotton Mather, upon this subject, would be invaluable. The +scholar will smile, at any comparison, between Pliny the elder and Cotton +Mather. So far, as respects the scope of knowledge, and power of +intellect, and inexhaustible treasures, displayed in Pliny’s thirty-seven +books of Natural History, one might as well compare Hyperion to a mummy. I +allude to nothing but the <i>Magnalia</i> or <i>Improbabilia</i>; and, upon this +point of comparison, Mather, witchcraft and all fairly fade out of sight, +before the marvels and fantastical stories of Pliny. In lib. xxviii. 23, +Pliny assigns a very strange cause, why <i>aciem in cultris tonsorum +hebetescere</i>—why the edge of a barber’s razor is sometimes blunted. The +reader may look it up, if he will—it is better in a work, <i>sub sigillo +latinitatis</i>, than in an English journal.</p> + +<p>I have often put my razor down, regretting, that my beard did not spread +over a larger area; so keenly and agreeably has the instrument performed +its work. It really seemed, that I might have shaved a sleeping mouse, +without disturbing his repose. After twelve hours, that very razor, +untouched the while, has come forth, no better than a pot-sherd. The very +reverse of all this has also befallen me. I once heard Revaillon, our old +French barber, say, that a razor could not be strapped with too light a +hand; and the English proverb was always in his mouth—“a good lather is +half the shave.”</p> + +<p>Some persons suppose the razor to be an instrument, of comparatively +modern invention, and barbers to have sprung up, at farthest, within the +Christian era. It is written, in Isaiah vii. 20, “In the same day shall +the Lord shave with a razor, that is hired,” &c. Ezekiel began to +prophecy, according to Calmet, 590 years before Christ: in the first verse +of ch. v. he says—“take thee a sharp knife, take thee a barber’s razor, +and cause it to pass upon thy head and upon thy beard.” To cause a razor +<i>to pass upon the beard</i> seems to mean something very different from +<i>shaving</i>, in the common sense of that word. Doubtless, it does: the +<i>culter</i> or <i>novacula</i>, that is, <i>the razor</i>, of the ancients, was +employed, for <i>shearing</i> or <i>shortening</i>, as well as for <i>shaving</i> the +beard. Barbers were first known, among the Romans A. U. C. 454, i. e. 298 +years before Christ. Pliny says,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_583" id="Page_583">[Pg 583]</a></span> vii. 59—Sequens gentium consensus in +tonsoribus fuit, sed Romanis tardior. In Italiam ex Sicilia venere post +Romam conditam anno quadringentessimo quinquagessimo quarto, adducente P. +Ticinio Mena, ut auctor est Varro: antea intonsi fuere. Primus omnium radi +quotidie instituit Africanus sequens: Divus Augustus cultris semper usus +est. Then barbers came into use, among the nations, but more slowly among +the Romans. In the year of the city 454, according to Varro, P. Ticinius +Mena introduced barbers into Italy from Sicily: until that time, men wore +their beards. The latter Africanus first set the example of being shaven +daily. Augustus constantly used razors. The passage of Varro, referred to +by Pliny, showing, that, before A. U. C. 454, men wore their beards, +states the fact to be established, by the long beards, on all the old male +statues. That <i>passing of the sharp knife or razor, upon the beard</i>, +spoken of, by Ezekiel, I take to be the latter of the two modes, employed +by the Romans—“vel strictim, hoc est, ad cutem usque; vel paulo longius a +cute, interposito pectine”—either close to the skin, or with a comb +interposed. That both modes were in use is clear from the lines of Plautus +in his play of the Captives, Act ii. sc. 2, v. 16—</p> + +<p class="poem">Nunc senex est in tonstrina; nunc jam cultros adtinet;<br /> +Sed utrum strictimne adtonsurum dicam esse, an per pectinem,<br /> +Nescio.</p> + +<p>Now the old man is in the barber’s shop and under the razor; but whether +to be close shaved, or clipped with the comb, I know not.</p> + +<p>Pliny, as we have seen, states, that the practice came from Sicily. There +it had been long in use. There is a curious reference to the custom in +Cicero’s Tusculan Questions, v. 20. Speaking of the tyrant, Dionysius he +says—Quin etiam ne tonsori collum committeret, tondere suas filias +docuit. Ita sordido ancillarique artificio regiæ virgines, ut tonstriculæ +tondebant barbam et capillum patris. For, not liking to trust his throat +to a barber, he taught his daughters to shave him, and thus these royal +virgins, descending to this coarse, servile vocation, became little, she +barbers, and clipped their father’s beard and hair.</p> + +<p>There is a curious passage in Pliny which not only proves, that barbers’ +shops were common in his time, but shows the very ancient employment of +cobweb, as a styptic. In lib. xxix. 36, he says—Fracto capiti aranei tela +ex oleo et aceto imposita, non<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_584" id="Page_584">[Pg 584]</a></span> nisi vulnere sanato, abscedit. Hæc et +vulneribus tonstrinarum sanguinem sistit. Spiders’ web, with oil and +vinegar, applied to a broken head, adheres, till the wound heals. This +also stops the bleeding from cuts, in barbers’ shops.</p> + +<p>Razors were sharpened, some two thousand years ago, very much as they are +at present. Pliny devotes sec. 47, lib. xxxvi. to hones and whetstones, +oil stones and water stones—quarta ratio—he says—est saliva hominis +proficientium in torstrinarum officinis—the fourth kind is such as are +used in the barbers’ shops, and which the man softens with his saliva.</p> + +<p>Most common, proverbial sayings are, doubtless, of great antiquity. +Chopping-blocks with a razor is a common illustration of the employment of +a subtle ingenuity, upon coarse and uninteresting topics. Thus Goldsmith, +in his Retaliation, says of Burke—</p> + +<p class="poem">In short, ’twas his fate, unemploy’d, or in place, sir,<br /> +To eat mutton cold, and chop blocks with a razor.</p> + +<p>The latter illustration is as old as Livy—<i>novacula cotem discindere</i>.</p> + +<p>The Romans made a prodigious fuss, about their beards. The first crop, +called <i>prima barba</i>, and sometimes <i>lanugo</i>, was, according to Petronius, +consecrated to some god. Suetonius says, in his Life of Nero, 12—Gymnico +quod in septis edebat, inter buthysiæ apparatum, barbam primam posuit, +conditamque in auream pyxidem, et pretiosissimis margaritis adornatam, +capitolio consecravit.—During the games, which he had given in the +enclosures, and in the very midst of the splendor of the sacrifice, for +the first time, he laid down his beard, and having placed it in a golden +box, adorned with precious stones, he made a sacred deposit thereof, in +the capitol.</p> + +<p>After the custom of shaving had been introduced, by Mena, A. U. C. 454, it +went out, for a short time, in Rome, during the time of Adrian, who as +Spartianus relates, in his Life of that Emperor, having some ugly +excrescences on his chin, suffered his beard to grow to conceal them—of +course the courtiers followed the example of the emperor—the people, that +of the courtiers. The grave concealed those excrescences, more +effectually, A. D. 139, and the <i>navacula</i> again came into use, among the +Romans: Marcus Antoninus, his successor, had no excrescences on his chin.</p> + +<p>The day, upon which a young Roman was said <i>ponere barbam</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_585" id="Page_585">[Pg 585]</a></span> that is, to +shave for the first time, was accounted a holiday; and Juvenal says, iii. +187, he received presents from his friends.</p> + +<p>Ovid, Trist. iv. 10, 67, dates his earliest literary exhibitions, before +the people, by his first or second shave, or clip—</p> + +<p class="poem">Carmina quum primum populo juvenilia legi,<br /> +Barba resecta mihi bisve semelve fuit.</p> + +<p>Which may be thus translated—</p> + +<p class="poem">When first in public I began<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To read my boyish rhymes,</span><br /> +I scarcely could be call’d a man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And had not shav’d three times.</span></p> + +<p>Cæsar says of the Britons, B. G. V. 14—omni parte corporis rasa, præter +caput et labrum superius—they shave entirely, excepting the head and +upper lip.</p> + +<p>Half-shaving was accounted, in the days of Samuel, I suppose, as reducing +the party to a state of semi-<i>barbarism</i>: thus, in Samuel II. x. +4—“Wherefore Hanan took David’s servants, and shaved off the one half of +their beards.”</p> + +<p>To be denied the privilege of shaving was accounted dishonorable, among +the Catti, a German nation, in the days of Tacitus; for he says, De +Moribus Germanæ, 31—Apud Cattos in consensum vertit, ut primum +adoleverint, crinem barbamque submittere, nec, nisi hoste cæso—It was +settled among the Catti, that no young man should cut his hair, or shave +his beard, till he had killed his man.</p> + +<p>Seneca, Cons. Polyb. xxxvi. 5, blames Caius, for refusing to shave, +because he had lost his sister—Idem ille Caius furiosa in constantia, +modo barbam capillumque submittens—There is that Caius, clinging so +absurdly to his sorrow, and suffering his hair and beard to grow on +account of it.</p> + +<p>There is an admirable letter, from Seneca to Lucillus, Ep. 114, which +shows, that the dandies, in old Rome, were much like our own. He is +speaking of those—qui vellunt barbam, aut intervellunt; qui labra +pressius tondent et abradunt, servata et submissa cætera parte—who pull +out the beard, by the roots, or particular parts of it—who clip and shave +the hair, either more closely, or leave it growing, on some parts of their +lips.</p> + +<p>Juvenal, ii. 99, and Martial, vi. 64, 4, laugh at such, as use a mirror +while shaving. Knives and razors of <i>brass</i>, are of great antiquity, +according to the Archæological Æliana, p. 39.—Fosbroke,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_586" id="Page_586">[Pg 586]</a></span> p. 351, says, +that razors are mentioned by Homer. But I am going to a funeral, this +afternoon, as an amateur, and it is time for me to shave—not with a razor +of brass, however—Pradier is too light for me—I use the Chinese. +Hutchinson, i. 153, says, that Leverett was the first Governor of +Massachusetts, who is painted without a beard, and that he laid it aside, +in Cromwell’s court.</p> + +<p>China is the paradise of barbers. There, according to Mr. Davis, they +abound. No man shaves himself, the part, to be shorn, being out of his +reach. There would be no difficulty in removing the scanty hair upon their +chins; but the exact tonsure of the crown, without removing one hair from +the Chinaman’s long tail, that reaches to his heels, is a delicate affair. +Their razors are very heavy, but superlatively keen.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXLI" id="No_CXLI"></a>No. CXLI.</h2> + + +<p>Barbers were chiefly peripatetics, when I was a boy. They ran about town, +and shaved at their customers’ houses. There were fewer shops. This was +the genteel mode in Rome. The wealthy had their domestic barbers, as the +planters have now, among their slaves. I am really surprised, that we hear +of so few throats cut at the South. Some evidence of this custom—not of +cutting throats—may be found, in one of the neatest epitaphs, that ever +was written; the subject of which, a very young and accomplished +slave-barber, has already taken a nap of eighteen hundred years. I refer +to Martial’s <i>epitaphium</i>, on Pantagathus, a word, which, by the way, +signifies one, who is good at everything, or, as we say—a man of all +works. It is the fifty-second, of Book VI. Its title is <i>Epitaphium +Pantagathi, Tonsoris</i>:</p> + +<p class="poem">Hoc jacet in tumulo raptus puerilibus annis<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pantagathus, domini cura, dolorque sui,</span><br /> +Vix tangente vagos ferro resecare capillos<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doctus, et hirsutas excoluisse genas.</span><br /> +Sic, licet, ut debes, Tellus placata, levisque;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Artificis levior non potes esse manu.</span></p> + +<p>In attempting a version of this, I feel, as if I were about to disfigure a +pretty spinster, with a mob-cap.</p> + +<p class="poem"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_587" id="Page_587">[Pg 587]</a></span> +Here lies Pantagathus, the slave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Petted he liv’d, and died lamented;</span><br /> +No youth, like him could clip and shave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since shears and razors were invented.</span><br /> +<br /> +So light his touch, you could not feel<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The razor, while your cheeks were smoothing;</span><br /> +And sat, unconscious of the steel,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The operation was so soothing.</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh, mother Earth, appeas’d, since thou<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Back to thy grasping arms hast won him,</span><br /> +Soft be thy hand, like his, and now<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lie thou, in mercy, lightly on him.</span></p> + +<p>Rochester was right; few things were ever benefited, by translation, but a +bishop.</p> + +<p>The <i>Tonstrinæ</i>, or barbers’ shops, in Rome, were seldom visited by any, +but the humbler classes. They were sometimes called the <i>Shades</i>. Horace, +Ep. i. 7, 50, describes Philippus, an eminent lawyer, as struck with +sudden envy, upon seeing Vulteius Mena, the beadle, sitting very much at +ease, in one of these shades, after having been shaved, and leisurely +cleaning his own nails, an office commonly performed by the barbers:—</p> + +<p class="poem">Adrasum quendam vacua tonsoris in umbra,<br /> +Cultello proprios purgantem leniter ungues.</p> + +<p>There were she-barbers, in Rome, residing in the <i>Saburra</i> and +<i>Argiletum</i>, very much such localities, as “<i>the Hill</i>,” formerly in +Boston, or <i>Anthony Street</i>, in New York. Martial describes one of these +<i>tonstrices</i>, ii. 17—</p> + +<p class="poem">Tonstrix Saburræ fancibus sedet primis, etc.</p> + +<p>Some there were, of a better order. Plautus, Terence, and Theophrastus +have many allusions to the barbers’ shops. They have ever been the same +“<i>otiosorum conciliabula</i>,” that they were, when Terence wrote—resorts of +the idle and garrulous. In old times—very—not now, of course—not now, a +dressmaker, who was mistress of her business, knew that she was expected +to turn out so much work, and so much <i>slander</i>. That day has fortunately +gone by. But the “barber’s tale” is the very thing that it was, in the +days of Oliver Goldsmith, and it was then the very thing, that it was, as +I verily believe, in the days of Ezekiel. There are many, who think, that +a good story, not less than a good lather, is half the shave.</p> + +<p>It is quite <i>in rerum natura</i>, that much time should be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_588" id="Page_588">[Pg 588]</a></span>consumed, in +waiting, at the <i>tonstrinæ</i>—the barbers’ shops; and to make it pass +agreeably, the craft have always been remarkable, for the employment of +sundry appliances—amusing pictures around the walls—images and +mechanical contrivances—the daily journals—poodles, monkeys, squirrels, +canaries, and parrots. In the older countries, a barber’s boy was greatly +in request, who could play upon the <i>citterne</i>, or some other musical +instrument.</p> + +<p>If there had not been a curious assemblage of <i>materiel</i>, in an old Roman +<i>tonstrina</i>, it would not have been selected as an object for the pencil. +That it was so selected, however, appears from a passage in Pliny, <span class="smcaplc">XXXV.</span> +37. He is writing of Pureicus—arte paucis postferendus: proposito, nescio +an destruxerit se: quoniam humilia quidem sequutus, humilitatis tamen +summam adeptus est gloriam. Tonstrinas, sutrinasque pinxit, et asellos, et +obsonia, ac similia—He had few superiors in his art: I know not if the +plan he adopted was fatal to his fame; for, though his subjects were +humble, yet, in their representation, he attained the highest excellence. +He painted barbers’ and shoemakers’ shops, asses, eatables, and the like.</p> + +<p>A rude sketch of Heemskerck’s picture of a barber’s shop lies now upon my +table. Here is the poodle, with a cape and fool’s cap, walking on his hind +legs—the suspended bleeding basin, and other et cætera of the profession.</p> + +<p>Little is generally known, as to the origin and import of the barber’s +pole. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, surgery was in such low +repute, that farriers, barbers, sow-spayers, and surgeons were much upon a +level. The truth of this, in respect to surgeons and barbers, has been +established by law: and, for about two hundred years, both in London and +Paris, they were incorporated, as one company. I remember a case, reported +by Espinasse—not having the book at hand, I cannot indicate the volume +and page—which shows the judicial estimate of surgery then, compared with +the practice of physic. A physician’s fees, in England, were accounted +<i>quiddam honorarium</i>, and not <i>matter of lucre</i>, and therefore could not +be recovered, in an action at law. Upon an action brought for surgical +services, the fees were recoverable, because surgeons, upon the testimony +of Dr. Mead, were of a lower grade, having nothing to do with the +pathology of diseases, and never prescribing; but simply performing +certain mechanical acts; and being, like all other artificers and +operatives, worthy of their hire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_589" id="Page_589">[Pg 589]</a></span>Nothing can more clearly exhibit the low state of this noble science, at +the time, and the humble estimation of it, by the public. Chirurgery +seemed destined to grovel, in etymological bondage, χειρ εργον, +a mere <i>handicraft</i>. Barbers and surgeons were incorporated, as one +company, in the fifteenth century, in the reign of Edward IV., and were +called barber-surgeons. At the close of the sixteenth century, Ambrose +Paré, the greatest surgeon of his time in France, did not reject the +appellation of <i>barber-surgeon</i>. Henry VIII. dissolved this union, and +gave a new charter in 1540, when it was enacted, that “<i>no person, using +any shaving or barbery in London, shall occupy any surgery, letting of +blood, or other matter, excepting only the drawing of teeth</i>.” The +<i>barber-surgeon</i> was thus reduced to the <i>barber-dentist</i>, which seems not +so agreeable to the practitioner, at present, as the loftier appellation +of <i>surgeon-dentist</i>. Sterne was right: there is something in a name. The +British surgeons obtained a new charter, in 1745, and another, in 1800, +and various acts have been subsequently passed, on their behalf. July 17, +1797, Lord Thurlow, in the House of Peers, opposed a new bill, which the +surgeons desired to have passed. Thurlow was a man of morose temperament, +and uncertain humor.</p> + +<p>He averred, that so much of the old law was in force, that, to use his own +words, “the barbers and surgeons were each to use a pole, the barbers were +to have theirs blue and white, striped, with no other appendage; but the +surgeons’, which was the same, in other respects, was likewise to have a +gallipot and a red rag, to denote the particular nature of their +vocation.”</p> + +<p>Brand, in his Popular Antiquities, says, that the barber’s pole, used in +bleeding, is represented, in an illuminated missal, of the time of Edward +I., Longshanks, whose reign began in 1272. Fosbroke, in his Encyc. of +Antiquities, page 414, says—“A staff, bound by a riband, was held, by +persons being bled, and the pole was intended to denote the practice of +phlebotomy.” According to Lord Thurlow’s statement, in the House of Peers, +the pole was required, by the statute, to be used, as a sign. The first +statute, incorporating the barber-surgeons, was that of Edward IV., as I +have stated. The missal of Edward I., referred to by Brand, shows, that +the usage was older than the law, and, doubtless, that the popular emblem +was adopted, in the statute, to which Lord Thurlow refers, as still in +force, in 1797.</p> + +<p>In Brand’s Newcastle, I find, that “it is ordered, Dec. 11,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_590" id="Page_590">[Pg 590]</a></span> 1711, that +periwig-making be considered part and branch of the Company of +Barber-<i>Chirurgeons</i>.”</p> + +<p>The history of the pole is this: A staff about three feet high, with a +ball on the top, and inserted, at the bottom, in a small cross-piece, was +very convenient for the person to hold, who extended his arm, as he sat +down, to be bled; and a fillet, or tape, was equally convenient for the +ligature. These things the barber-surgeons kept, in a corner of their +shops; and, when not in use, the tape or fillet was wound or twirled round +the staff. When the lawgivers called for a sign, no apter sign could be +given unto them, than this identical staff and fillet; much larger of +course, and to be seen of men much farther.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXLII" id="No_CXLII"></a>No. CXLII.</h2> + + +<p>Ancient plays abound with allusions to the barber’s <i>citterne</i>, or lute, +upon which not only he himself, and his apprentices were accustomed to +play, but all the loiterers in the <i>tonstrina</i>. Much of all this may be +found, in the Glossary of Archdeacon Nares, under the article <span class="smcap">Citterne</span>, +and in Fosbroke’s Antiquities.</p> + +<p>The commonness of its use gave rise to a proverb. In the Silent Woman, Act +II., scene 2, Ben Jonson avails of it. Morose had married a woman, +recommended by his barber, and whose fidelity he suspected, and the +following passage occurs, between Morose and Truewit. Lond., 1816, iii. +411.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Morose.</i> That cursed barber!</p> + +<p><i>Truewit.</i> Yes, faith, a cursed wretch indeed, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Morose.</i> I have married his <i>cittern</i>, that’s common to all men.</p></div> + +<p>Upon this passage is the following note—“It appears from innumerable +passages, in our old writers, that barbers’ shops were furnished with some +musical instrument, commonly a cittern or guitar, for the amusement of +such customers as chose to strum upon it, while waiting for their turn to +be shaved, &c. It should be recollected, that the patience of customers, +if the shop was at all popular, must, in those tedious days of love-locks, +and beards of most fantastical cuts, have been frequently put to very +severe trials. Some kind of amusement therefore was necessary, to beguile +the time.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591">[Pg 591]</a></span>In old times, in old England, barbers were in the habit of making a +variety of noises, with their fingers and their shears, which noises were +supposed to be agreeable to their customers. Fosbroke, p. 414, refers to +Lily’s old play of Mydas, iii. 2, as showing the existence of the custom, +in his time. Lily was born about 1553. There were some, who preferred to +be shaved and dressed quietly. Nares, in his Glossary, refers to Plutarch, +De Garrulitate, for an anecdote of King Archelaus, who stipulated with his +barber to shave him in silence. This barbers’ trick was called the “<i>knack +with the fingers</i>;” and was extremely disagreeable to Morose, in Ben +Jonson’s play, to which I have referred. Thus, in i. 2, Clerimont, +speaking of the partiality of Morose for Cutbeard, the barber, says—“The +fellow trims him silently, and has not the knack with his shears or his +fingers: and that continence in a barber he thinks so eminent a virtue, as +it has made him chief of his counsel.”</p> + +<p>As barbers were brought first into Rome, from Sicily, so the best razors, +according to Nares and Fosbroke, before the English began to excel in +cutlery, were obtained in Palermo. Their form was unlike those now in use, +and seems more perfectly to correspond with one of the Roman names, +signifying a razor, i. e. <i>culter</i>. The blade, like that of a pruning +knife, or sickle, curved slightly inward, the reverse of which is the +modern form.</p> + +<p>Smith, in his Ancient Topography of London, says—“The flying barber is a +character now no more to be seen in London, though he still remains in +some of our country villages: he was provided with a napkin, soap, and +pewter basin, the form of which may be seen, in many of the illustrative +prints of Don Quixote. His chafer was a deep leaden vessel, something like +a chocolate pot, with a large ring or handle, at the top; this pot held +about a quart of water, boiling hot; and, thus equipped, he flew about to +his customers.”</p> + +<p>Old Randle Holme says, “<i>perawickes</i>” were very common in his time, about +1668, though unused before “contrary to our forefathers, who wore their +own hair.” A barber, in Paris, to recommend his bag wigs, hung over his +door the sign of Absalom. Hone, i. 1262, states that a periwig-maker, to +recommend his wares, turned the reason into rhyme:</p> + +<p class="poem">“Oh, Absalom, oh Absalom,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh Absalom, my son,</span><br /> +If thou hadst worn a periwig,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou hadst not been undone.”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_592" id="Page_592">[Pg 592]</a></span>Hutchinson, i. 152, says periwigs were an eyesore in New England, for +thirty years after the Restoration of Charles II.</p> + +<p>Among the Romans, after Mena introduced the practice of shaving, those, +who professed philosophy, still maintained their dignity, and their +beards, as an <i>ecce signum</i>. Hence the expression of Horace, Sat. ii. 3, +35, <i>sapientem pascere barbam</i>: and of Persius, iv. 1, when speaking of +Socrates:</p> + +<p class="poem"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">barbatum hæc crede magistrum</span><br /> +Dicere, sorbitio tollit quem dira cicutæ.</p> + +<p>Of those, who wear beards, at the present day, it has been computed, that, +for one philosopher, there are five hundred fools, at the very lowest +estimate. Manage them as you will, they are troublesome appendages; of +very questionable cleanliness; and mightily in the way of such, as are +much addicted to gravy and spoon victual. Like the burden of our sins, the +postprandial odor of them must be sometimes intolerable.</p> + +<p>What an infinite variety of colors we have now-a-days! Bottom, in +Midsummer Night’s Dream, i. 2, is in doubt, what beard he shall play +Pyramus in, and, at last, he says—“I will discharge it in either your +straw-colored beard, your orange tawny beard, your purple ingrain beard, +or your French crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.” Now I can +honestly aver, that every fifth dandy I meet, looks precisely like Bottom, +performing Pyramus. Now and then, I meet a fine, full, black beard; but, +even then, it seems to me, that the proud satisfaction the fortunate +proprietor must feel, in going about town with it, must be, in some +degree, counterbalanced, by the necessity of sleeping in it, during the +summer solstice.</p> + +<p>The fancy colors, proposed by Bottom, refer to the dyes, in use, at the +period, when Bottom flourished. Indeed, dyeing the beard is of the highest +antiquity. I have no authority that Aaron dyed his. In 1653, John Bulwer +published his “Anthropo-Metamorphosis,” or Artificial Changeling, a very +able and curious production. For the antiquity of the silly practice of +dyeing the beard, he refers to Strabo. Old John Bulwer, ch. ix., comments, +with just severity, upon the conduct of those ancient fools, who adopt the +practice—“<i>In every haire of these old coxcombs, you shall meet with +three divers and sundry colors; white at the roots, yellow in the middle, +and black at the point, like unto one of your parrat’s feathers</i>.” What a +graphic <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593">[Pg 593]</a></span>description of this nasty appendage! It has ever been to me a +matter of infinite surprise, how any mortal can presume to say his +prayers, with one of these pied abominations on his chin; giving the lie +direct to the volume of inspiration, which avers that he cannot make one +hair black nor white.</p> + +<p>Another mystery—how can any man’s better half become reconciled to a +husband, dyed thus, in the wool! The colors are not all fast colors, I +believe; and are liable to be rubbed off, by attrition.</p> + +<p>Beards were cultivated, to such an excess, in Elizabeth’s time, as to +require and receive a check from the legislature. “The growth of beards,” +says Nares, in his Glossary, “was regulated by statute, at Lincoln’s Inn, +in the time of Eliz.—Primo Eliz. it was ordered, that no fellow of that +house should wear a beard above a fortnight’s growth. Transgression was +punished with fine, loss of commons, and finally expulsion. But fashion +prevailed, and in November, the following year, all previous orders, +touching beards, were repealed.”</p> + +<p>It was formerly calculated, by Lord Stanhope, that the sum, expended upon +snuff, and the value of the time, consumed in taking it, and the cost of +snuff-boxes, handkerchiefs, &c., if duly invested, would pay off the +national debt. I have a proposal to offer, and I offer it, timidly and +respectfully, for the consideration of those amiable females, who go +about, so incessantly, doing good. Perhaps I may not be able to awaken +their interest, more effectually, than by suggesting the idea, that here +is a very fair opportunity, for the formation of another female auxiliary +society. I take it for granted, that there are some of these bearded +gentlemen, from whom contributions in money, could not easily be obtained, +for any benevolent object. There are some, whose whole estate, real, +personal, and mixed, comprehends very little, beyond a costly malacca +joint, a set of valuable shirtstuds, and a safety chain. Still if we +cudgel the doctrine of political economy, we may get some small +contributions, even from them.</p> + +<p>Cortez found, in the treasury of Montezuma, a multitude of little bags, +which were, at last, discovered to be filled with dead lice. The Emperor, +to keep the Mexican beggars out of mischief, had levied this species of +tax. I am well aware, that the power of levying taxes is not vested in +young ladies. They have certain, natural, inherent rights, however, and, +among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_594" id="Page_594">[Pg 594]</a></span> them, the right and the power of persuasion. Let them organize, +throughout the Union, and establish committees of correspondence. Let them +address a circular to every individual, who wears a beard; and, if their +applications succeed, they will enjoy the luxury of supplying a +comfortable hair mattrass, to every poor widow, and aged single woman in +the United States.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXLIII" id="No_CXLIII"></a>No. CXLIII.</h2> + + +<p>The barber’s brush is a luxury of more modern times. Stubbe, in his +“Anatomy of Abuses,” says—“When they come to washing, oh, how gingerly +they behave themselves therein. For then shall your mouths be bossed with +the lather or some that rinseth of the balles, (for they have their sweete +balles, wherewith all they use to washe) your eyes closed must be anointed +therewith also. Then snap go the fingers, ful bravely, God wot. Thus, this +tragedy ended; comes the warme clothes to wipe and dry him with all.” +Stubbe wrote, about 1550.</p> + +<p>Not very long ago, a writer in the Gentleman’s Magazine, observed—“I am +old enough to remember when the operation of shaving in this kingdom, was +almost exclusively performed by the <i>barbers</i>: what I speak of is some +threescore years ago, at which time gentlemen shavers were unknown. +Expedition was then a prime quality in a barber, who smeared the lather +over his customer’s face with his hand; for the delicate refinement of the +brush had not been introduced. The lathering of the beard being finished, +the operator threw off the lather, adhering to his hand, by a peculiar +jerk of his arm, which caused the joints of his fingers to crack, this +being a more expeditious mode of clearing the hand, than using a towel for +that purpose; and, the more audible the crack, the higher the shaver +stood, in his own opinion, and in that of the fraternity. This I presume +is the custom alluded to by Stubbe.”</p> + +<p>The Romans, when bald, wore wigs. Some of the emperors wore miserable +periwigs. Curly locks, however becoming in a male child, are somewhat +ridiculous, trained with manifest care, and descending upon the shoulders +of a full grown boy of forty. In addition to the pole, a peruke was +frequently employed, as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_595" id="Page_595">[Pg 595]</a></span> barber’s sign. There was the short bob, and +the full bottom; the “hie perrawycke” and the scratch; the top piece, and +the periwig with the pole lock; the curled wig with a dildo, and the +travelling wig, with curled foretop and bobs; the campain wig, with a +dildo on each side, and the toupet, a la mode.</p> + +<p>It may seem a paradox to some, that the most <i>barbarous</i> nations should +suffer the hair and beard to grow longest. The management of the hair has +furnished an abundant subject matter for grave attention, in every age and +nation. Cleansing, combing, crimping, and curling, clipping, and +consecrating their locks gave ample occupation to the ladies and gentlemen +of Greece and Rome. At the time of adolescence, and after shipwreck, the +hair was cut off and sacrificed to the divinities. It was sometimes cut +off, at funerals, and cast upon the pile. Curling irons were in use, at +Rome. Girls wore the hair fastened upon the top of the head; matrons +falling on the neck. Shaving the crown was a part of the punishment of +conspirators and thieves. We know nothing, at present, in regard to the +hair, which was unknown at Rome—our <i>frizzing</i> was their <i>capillorum +tortura</i>. They had an instrument, called <i>tressorium</i>, for plaiting the +hair. In the time of Edward the Confessor, the hair was worn, universally, +long, the laws of England not compelling all, but the nobility, as in +France, to cut the hair short, in that age.</p> + +<p>The Romans are said, occasionally to have worn wigs of an enormous size, +which gave occasion to the term, in Martial’s epigram, <i>caput calceatum</i>. +We have no exact record of the size of those Roman wigs—but I sincerely +wish, that Augustus Cæsar or—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Mæcenas, whose high lineage springs,<br /> +From fair Etruria’s ancient kings,”</p> + +<p>could have seen the Rev. Dr. Lathrop’s! In Mr. Ward’s journal of Samuel +Curwen, that venerable and truly respectable, and amiable, old tory is +represented, with precisely such a wig, but of much smaller diameter. Dr. +John Lathrop died, Jan. 4, 1816, at the age of 75. He published a +considerable number of sermons on various occasions, no one of which is +remarkable for extraordinary talent, or learning. It was, by some +intelligent persons, supposed, that the wig was a great help to him. In +his latter days, he found himself unable, any longer, to bear up, under +such a portentous superstructure, which really appeared to “<i>overhang</i>,” +contrary to the statute, and he laid it aside. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596">[Pg 596]</a></span> influence certainly +appeared to diminish, in some measure, probably, from the increasing +infirmities of age; but, doubtless, in some degree, from the deposition of +the wig. I honestly confess, that I never felt for Dr. Lathrop the same +awful reverence, after he had laid aside this emblem of wisdom. A “wig +full of learning” is an ancient saying, and Cowper makes use of it, in one +of his lighter poems.</p> + +<p>I have always looked upon barbers, as an honorable race of men, quite as +much so, as brokers; the barbers seldom fail to shave more gently, and +commonly dismiss an old customer, without drawing blood, or taking off the +skin. We owe them a debt of gratitude withal, on other scores. How very +easily they might cut our throats!</p> + +<p>In this goodly city, at the present time, there are more than one hundred +and ten gentlemen, who practice the art of barbery, beside their +respective servants and apprentices. When I was a small boy—very—some +sixty years ago, there were but twenty-nine, and many of them were most +respectable and careful operators—an honor to their profession, and a +blessing to the community.</p> + +<p>There was Charles Gavett, in Devonshire Street, the Pudding Lane of our +ancestors. Gavett was a brisk, little fellow; his <i>tonstrina</i> was small, +and rather dark, but always full.</p> + +<p>In Brattle Square, just behind the church, John Green kept a shop, for +several years. But John became unsteady, and cut General Winslow, and some +other of his customers, and scalded several others, and lost his business.</p> + +<p>In Fish Street, which had then, but recently, ceased to be the court end +of the town, there were several clever barbers—there was Thomas Grubb, +and Zebulon Silvester, and James Adams, and Abraham Florence. I never +heard a syllable against them, or their lather.</p> + +<p>At No. 33, Marlborough Street, William Whipple kept a first rate +establishment, and had a high name, among the dandies, as an accomplished +haircutter.</p> + +<p>Jonathan Edes kept a small shop, in Ann Street, and had a fair run of +transient custom. He had always a keen edge and a delicate hand. He was +greatly urged to take a larger establishment, in a more fashionable part +of the town, near Cow Lane, but Mr. Edes was not ambitious, and turned a +wiry edge to all such suggestions.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_597" id="Page_597">[Pg 597]</a></span>William Mock kept a shop, in Newbury Street, an excellent shaver, but +slow; his shop was not far from the White Horse. He was a peripatetic. I +suspect, but am not certain, that he shaved Dr. Lemuel Hayward.</p> + +<p>At the corner of Essex Street, old Auchmuty’s Lane, George Gideon kept a +fine stand, clean towels, keen edge, and hot lather; but he had a rough, +coarse hand. He had been one of the sons of liberty, and his shop being +near the old site of Liberty tree, he was rather apt to take liberties +with his customers’ noses, especially the noses of the disaffected.</p> + +<p>There were two professed wig-makers, in Boston, at that time, who +performed the ordinary functions of barbers beside, William Haslet, in +Adams Street, and John Bosson, in Orange Street. Mr. Bosson was very +famous, in his line, and in great request, among the ladies.</p> + +<p>In Marshall’s Lane, Edward Hill was an admirable shaver; but, in the +department of hair cutting, inferior to Anthony Howe, whose exceedingly +neat and comfortable establishment was in South Latin School Street. An +excellent hotel was then kept, by Joshua Bracket, at the sign of +Cromwell’s Head, on the very spot, where Palmer keeps his fruit shop, and +the very next door below the residence of Dr. John Warren. Bracket +patronized Howe’s shop, and sent him many customers. Captain John Boyle, +whose house and bookstore were at No. 18 Marlborough Street, patronized +Anthony Howe.</p> + +<p>Samuel Jepson kept his <i>barbery</i>, as the shop was sometimes called, in +Temple Street, between the two bakeries of William Breed and Matthew +Bayley.</p> + +<p>James Tate was established in Purchase Street. He would have been a good +barber, had he not been a poor poet. He was proud of his descent from +Nahum Tate, the psalmodist, the copartner of Brady. Richard Fox kept also +in Purchase Street, and had a large custom.</p> + +<p>A much frequented barber’s shop was kept, by William Pierce, near the +Boston Stone. Jonathan Farnham was an excellent barber, in Back Street. He +unluckily had an ominous squint, which was inconvenient, as it impressed +new comers, now and then, with a fear lest he might cut their throats. +Joseph Alexander shaved in Orange Street, and Theodore Dehon, on the north +side of the Old State House.</p> + +<p>Joseph Eckley was one of the best shavers and hair cutters in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_598" id="Page_598">[Pg 598]</a></span> town, some +sixty years ago. His shop was in Wing’s Lane. Daniel Crosby, who was also +a wig maker, in Newbury Street, was clerk of Trinity Church.</p> + +<p>Augustine Raillion, whose name was often written Revaillion kept his +stand, at No. 48 Newbury Street. He was much given to dogs, ponies, and +other divertisements.</p> + +<p>State Street was famous, for four accomplished barbers, sixty years +ago—Stephen Francis, John Gould, John M. Lane, and Robert Smallpiece. The +last was the father of Robert Smallpiece, who flourished here, some thirty +years ago or more, and kept his shop, in Milk Street, opposite the Old +South Church.</p> + +<p>It is well known, that the late Robert Treat Paine wrote an ode, upon the +occasion of the Spanish successes, to which he gave the title of “<i>Spain, +Commerce and Freedom, a National Ode</i>.” It bore unquestionable marks of +genius; but some of the ideas and much of the phraseology were altogether +extravagant. It commenced finely—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Sound the trumpet of fame! Strike that pæan again!<br /> +Religion a war against tyranny wages;<br /> +From her seat springs, in armor, regenerate Spain,<br /> +Like a giant, refresh’d by the slumber of ages.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">From the place, where she lay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">She leaps in array,</span><br /> +Like Ajax, to die in the face of the day.”</p> + +<p>The ode contained some strange expressions—“redintegrant war”—“though +the dismemberd earth effervesce and regender,” and so many more, that the +ode, though evidently the work of a man of genius, was accounted +bombastic. A wag of that day, published a parody, of which this Robert +Smallpiece was the hero. It was called, if I mistake not—“Soap, Razors, +and Hot Water, a Tonsorial Ode.” The first stanza ran thus—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Strap that razor so keen! Strap that razor again!<br /> +And Smallpiece will shave ’em, if he can come at ’em;<br /> +From his stool, clad in aprons, he springs up amain,<br /> +Like a barber, refresh’d by the smell of pomatum.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">From the place, where he lay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He leaps in array,</span><br /> +To lather and shave, in the face of the day.<br /> +He has sworn from pollution our faces to clean,<br /> +Our cheeks, necks, and upper lips, whiskers and chin.”</p> + +<p>“Paullo majora canamus.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_599" id="Page_599">[Pg 599]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="No_CXLIV" id="No_CXLIV"></a>No. CXLIV.</h2> + + +<p>In 1784, Mr. Thomas Percival, an eminent physician, of Manchester, in +England, published a work, against duelling, and sent a copy to Dr. +Franklin. Dr. Franklin replied to Mr. Percival, from Passy, July 17, 1784, +and his reply contains the following observations—“Formerly, when duels +were used to determine lawsuits, from an opinion, that Providence would in +every instance, favor truth and right, with victory, they were excusable. +At present, they decide nothing. A man says something, which another tells +him is a lie. They fight; but whichever is killed, the point in dispute +remains unsettled. To this purpose, they have a pleasant little story +here. A gentleman, in a coffee-house, desired another to sit further from +him. ‘Why so?’—‘Because, sir, you stink.’—‘That is an affront, and you +must fight me.’—‘I will fight you, if you insist upon it; but I do not +see how that will mend the matter. For if you kill me, I shall stink too; +and, if I kill you, you will stink, if possible, worse than you do at +present.’”</p> + +<p>This is certainly germain to the matter. So far from perceiving any moral +courage, in those, who fight duels, nothing seems more apparent, than the +triumph of one fear, over four other fears—the fear of shame, over the +fear of bringing misery upon parents, wives and children—the fear of the +law—the fear of God—and the fear of death. Many a man will <i>brave</i> +death, who fears it.</p> + +<p>Death is the king of terrors, and all men stand in awe of him, saving the +Christian, with his armor of righteousness about him, <i>cap-a-pie</i>; and +even he, perhaps, is slightly pricked, by that fear, now and then, in +articulo, between the joints of the harness. I must honestly confess, that +I once knew a man, who had a terrible vixen of a wife, and, when about to +die, he replied to his clergyman’s inquiry, if he was not afraid to meet +the king of terrors, that he was not, for he had lived with the queen, for +thirty years.</p> + +<p>I do not suppose there is a more hypocritical fellow, upon earth, than a +duellist. Mandeville, in his Fable of the Bees, in the second dialogue, +part ii., puts these words into the mouth of Cleomenes, when speaking to +Horatio, on the subject of his duel: “I saw you, that very morning, and +you seemed to be sedate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[Pg 600]</a></span> and void of passion: you could have no concern.” +Horatio replies—“It is silly to show any, at such times; but I know best +what I felt; the struggle I had within was unspeakable: it is a terrible +thing. I would then have given a considerable part of my estate, that the +thing which forced me into it, had not happened; and yet, upon less +provocation, I would act the same part again, tomorrow.” Such is human +nature, and many, who sit down quietly, to write in opposition to this +silly, senseless, selfish practice, would be quite apt enough, upon the +emergency, to throw aside the pacific steel, wherewith they indite, and +take up the cruel rapier. When I was a young man, a Mr. Ogilvie gave +lectures, in Boston, on various subjects. He was the son of Mr. Ogilvie, +to whose praises of the prospects in Scotland, Dr. Johnson replied, by +telling him, that “the noblest prospect, which a Scotchman ever sees, is +the high road, that leads him to England.”</p> + +<p>The son of this gentleman gave his lectures, in the old Exchange Coffee +House, where I heard him, several times. Under the influence of opium, +which he used very freely, he was, occasionally, quite eloquent. He +lectured, one evening, with considerable power, against duelling. On his +way to his lodgings, some person repeated to him, several piquant and +cutting things, which a gentleman had said of his lecture. Ogilvie was +exceedingly incensed, and swore he would call him out, the very next day.</p> + +<p>This law of honor is written nowhere, unless, in letters of blood, in the +volume of pride, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. “What,” +says Cleomenes, in the work I have just now referred to—“What makes so +just and prudent a man, that has the good of society so much at heart, act +knowingly against the laws of his country?”—“The strict obedience,” says +Horatio, “he pays to the laws of honor, which are superior to all +others.”—“If men of honor,” says Cleomenes, “would act consistently, they +ought all to be Roman Catholics.”—“Why so?”—“Because,” he rejoins, “they +prefer oral tradition, to all written laws; for nobody can tell, when, in +what king’s or emperor’s reign, in what country, or by what authority, +these laws of honor were first enacted: it is very strange they should be +of such force.”</p> + +<p>It is certainly very strange, that their authority should have been +acknowledged, in some cases, not only by professing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[Pg 601]</a></span>Christians, but even +by the ministers of religion. Four individuals, of this holy calling, +stand enrolled, as duellists, on the blood-guilty register of England. In +1764, the Rev. Mr. Hill was killed in a duel, by Cornet Gardner. On the +18th of June, 1782, the Rev. Mr. Allen killed Mr. Lloyd Dulany, in a duel. +In August, 1827, Mr. Grady was wounded in a duel, by the Rev. Mr. Hodson. +The Rev. Mr. Bate fought two duels—was subsequently made Baronet—fought +a third duel, and was made Dean. If such atrocities were not preëminently +horrible, how ridiculous they would be!</p> + +<p>It would not be agreeable to be placed in that category, in which a worthy +bishop placed those, who, after Dr. Johnson’s death, began to assail his +reputation. “<i>The old lion is dead</i>,” said the bishop, “<i>and now every ass +will be kicking at his hide</i>.” Better and safer, however, to be there, +than to bide with those, who receive all the coarse, crude, mental +eructations of this truly good and great man, for <i>dicta perennia</i>. A +volume of outrageously false teachings might readily be selected, from the +recorded outpourings of this great literary whale, whenever Boswell, by a +little tickling, caused his Leviathan to spout. Too much tea, or none at +all, too much dinner, or too little certainly affected his qualifications, +as a great moral instructor; and, under the teazle of contradiction, the +nap of his great spirit fairly stood on end; and, at such times, he sought +victory too often, rather than the truth. It has always seemed to me, that +dinner-table philosophy, especially <i>aprés</i>, is often of very questionable +value.</p> + +<p>Dr. Johnson has frequently been quoted, on the subject of duelling. Some +of his opinions were delivered, on this subject, suddenly, and seem +entirely unworthy of his majestic powers. At a dinner party, at Gen. +Oglethorpe’s—I refer to Boswell’s Johnson, in ten volumes, Lond. 1835, +vol. iii. page 216—Boswell brought up the subject of duelling. Gen. +Oglethorpe, <i>the host</i>, “fired at this, and said, with a lofty air, +‘undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his honor.’”</p> + +<p>Dr. Johnson, the <i>principal guest</i>, did the civil thing, and took the same +side, and is reported, by Boswell, to have said substantially—“Sir, as +men become in a high degree refined, various causes of offence arise; +which are considered to be of such importance, that life must be staked to +atone for them; though, in reality, they are not so. A body, that has +received a very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[Pg 602]</a></span> fine polish, may be easily hurt. Before men arrive at +this artificial refinement, if one tells his neighbor he lies—his +neighbor tells him he lies—if one gives his neighbor a blow, his neighbor +gives him a blow: but, in a state of highly polished society, an affront +is held to be a serious injury. It must therefore be resented, or rather a +duel must be fought upon it; as men have agreed to banish, from society, +one, who puts up with an affront, without fighting a duel. Now, sir, it is +never unlawful to fight, in self-defence. He, then, who fights a duel, +does not fight from passion against his antagonist, but out of +self-defence, to avert the stigma of the world, and to prevent himself +from being driven out of society. I could wish there was not that +superfluity of refinement; but, while such notions prevail, no doubt a man +may lawfully fight a duel.” I must have another witness, besides Mr. +Boswell, before I believe, that Dr. Johnson uttered these words. Dr. +Johnson could never have maintained, that the <i>lawfulness</i> of an act +depended upon the existence of certain popular <i>notions</i>. Nor is it true, +nor was it then true, that <i>men have agreed to banish, from society, one, +who puts up with an affront, without fighting a duel</i>.</p> + +<p>Dr. Johnson seems to have made no distinction, between military men and +the rest of the world. It is impossible to doubt, that the Doctor was +graciously disposed to favor Gen. Oglethorpe’s <i>notions</i>, and that he +would have taken the opposite side, had he been the guest of the +Archbishop of Canterbury. “<i>It is not unlawful to fight, in +self-defence</i>:” the law, by punishing all killing, in a duel, as murder, +in the very first degree, shows clearly enough, that duelling is never +looked upon, as fighting, in self-defence. It is remarkable, that Mr. +Boswell, himself a lawyer, should have thought this paragraph worthy of +preservation.</p> + +<p>On page 268, of the same volume, Mr. Boswell has the following +record—“April 19, 1773, he again defended duelling, and put his argument +upon what I have ever thought the most solid basis; that, if public war be +allowed to be consistent with morality, private war must be equally so.” +And this, in Mr. Boswell’s opinion, was <i>the most solid basis</i>! It is +difficult to perceive what is stubble, if this is not. Whither does this +argument carry us all, but back to the state of nature—of uncovenanted +man—of man, who has surrendered none of his natural rights, as a +consideration for the blessings of government and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[Pg 603]</a></span> law? A state of nature +and a state of society are very different things. Who will doubt, that, if +Dr. Johnson really uttered these things, he would have talked more warily, +could he have imagined, that Bozzy would have transmitted them to distant +ages?</p> + +<p>It is, nevertheless, perfectly clear, that Dr. Johnson, upon both these +occasions, had talked, only for the pride and pleasure of talking; for Mr. +Boswell records a very different opinion, vol. iv. page 249. Sept. 19, +1773.—Dr. Johnson then had thoroughly digested General Oglethorpe’s +dinner; and Mr. Boswell’s record runs thus—“<i>He fairly owned he could not +explain the rationality of duelling</i>.”</p> + +<p>Poor Mr. Boswell! It is not unreasonable, to suppose, that he had +inculcated his notions, upon the subject of duelling, in his own family, +and repeated, for the edification of his sons, the valuable sentiments of +Dr. Johnson. Mr. Boswell died, May 19, 1795. Seven and twenty years after +his death, his son, Sir Alexander Boswell, was killed, in a duel, at +Auchterpool, by Mr. James Stuart, March 26, 1822. Upon the trial of +Stuart, for murder, Mr. Jeffrey, who defended him, quoted the very +passage, in which Dr. Johnson had justified, to the father, that fatal sin +and folly, which had brought the son to an untimely grave!</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXLV" id="No_CXLV"></a>No. CXLV.</h2> + + +<p>Dr. Franklin, in his letter to Mr. Percival, referred to, in my last +number, observes, that, “formerly, when duels were used, to determine +lawsuits, from an opinion, that Providence would, in every instance, favor +truth and right with victory, they were excusable.” Dr. Johnson did not +think this species of duel so absurd, as it is commonly supposed to be: +“it was only allowed,” said he, “when the question was in equilibrio, and +they had a notion that Providence would interfere in favor of him, who was +in the right.” Bos., vol. iv. page 14. The lawfulness of a thing may +excuse it: but there are some laws, so very absurd, that one stares at +them, in the statute book, as he looks at flies in amber, and marvels +“<i>how the devil they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[Pg 604]</a></span> got there</i>.” There was, I am gravely assured, in the +city of New Orleans, not very long ago, a practitioner of the healing art, +who was called <i>the Tetotum doctor</i>—he felt no pulse—he examined no +tongue—he asked no questions for conscience’ sake, nor for any other—his +tetotum was marked with various letters, on its sides—he sat down, in +front of the patient, and spun his tetotum—if B. came uppermost, he bled +immediately—if P., he gave a purge—if E., an emetic—if C., a clyster, +and so on. If there be less wisdom, in this new mode of practice, than in +the old wager of Battel, I perceive it not.</p> + +<p>Both Drs. Franklin and Johnson refer to it, as an <i>ancient</i> practice. It +was supposed, doubtless, to have become obsolete, and a dead letter, +extinguished by the mere progress of civilization. Much surprise, +therefore, was excited, when, at a period, as late as 1818, an attempt was +made to revive it, in the case of Ashford <i>vs.</i> Thornton, tried before the +King’s Bench, in April of that year. This was a case of appeal of murder, +under the law of England. Thornton had violated, and murdered the sister +of Ashford; and, as a last resort, claimed his right to <i>wager of battel</i>. +The court, after full consideration, felt themselves obliged to admit the +claim, under the unrepealed statute of 9, William II., passed A. D. 1096. +Ashford, the appellant, and brother of the unfortunate victim, declined to +accept the challenge, and the murderer was accordingly discharged. This +occurred, in the 58th year of George III., and a statute was passed, in +1819, putting an end to this terrible absurdity. Had the appellant, the +brother, accepted this legalized challenge, what a barbarous exhibition +would have been presented to the world, at this late day, through the +inadvertence of Parliament, in omitting to repeal this preposterous law!</p> + +<p>In a former number, I quoted a sentiment, attributed, by Boswell, to Dr. +Johnson, and which, I suppose, was no deliberate conviction of his, but +uttered, in the course of his dinner-table talk, for the gratification of +Gen. Oglethorpe, “<i>Men have agreed to banish from society, a man, who puts +up with an affront without fighting a duel</i>.” This is not asserted, as an +independent averment, but assumed or taken for granted, as the basis of +the argument, such as it was. Is this a fact? Cannot cases innumerable be +stated, to prove, that it is not? The words, ascribed to Dr. Johnson, are +not confined to any class or profession, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[Pg 605]</a></span> are of universal +application. Have men agreed to banish from society every man, who refuses +to fight a duel, when summoned to that refreshing amusement? Let us +examine a few cases. General Jackson did not lose caste, because he +omitted to challenge Randolph, for pulling his nose. Josiah Quincy was not +banished from society, for refusing the challenge of a Southern Hotspur. I +believe, that Judge Thacher, of Maine, would have been much less +respected, had he gone out to be shot, when invited, than he ever has +been, for the very sensible answer to his antagonist, that he would talk +to Mrs. Thacher about it, and be guided by her opinion. Nobody ever +supposed, that Judge Breckenridge suffered, in character or standing, +because he told his challenger, that he <i>wouldn’t come</i>; but, that he +might sketch his, the Judge’s, figure, on a board, and fire at that, till +he was weary, at any distance he pleased; and if he hit it, upon a +certificate of the fact, the Judge would agree to it.</p> + +<p>Had Hamilton refused the challenge of Burr, his <i>deliberate murderer</i>, his +fame would have remained untarnished—his countrymen would never have +forgotten the 14th of October, 1781—the charge of that advanced +corps—the fall of Yorktown! On his death-bed, Hamilton expressed his +abhorrence of the practice; and solemnly declared, should he survive, +never to be engaged in another duel. “<i>Pendleton knows</i>,” said he, in a +dying hour, referring to Burr, and addressing Dr. Hossack, “<i>that I did +not intend to fire at him</i>.” How different from the blood-thirsty purposes +of his assassin! In vol. x. of Jeremy Bentham’s works, pages 432-3, the +reader will find a letter from Dumont to Bentham, in which the Frenchman +says, referring to a conversation with Burr, in 1808, four years after the +duel—“<i>His duel with Hamilton was a savage affair</i>:” and Bentham +adds—“<i>He gave me an account of his duel with Hamilton; he was sure of +being able to kill him, so I thought it little better than murder</i>.”</p> + +<p>In England, <i>politics</i> seem to have given occasion to very many affairs of +this nature—the duels of the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun, in 1712, +fatal to both—Mr. Martin and Mr. Wilkes, in 1763—the Lords Townshend and +Bellamont, in 1773—C. J. Fox and Mr. Adam, in 1779—Capt. Fullerton and +Lord Shelburne, in 1780—Lord Macartney and Major General Stuart, in +1786—the Duke of York and Colonel Lenox, in 1789—Mr. Curran and Major +Hobart, in 1790—Earl of Lonsdale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606">[Pg 606]</a></span> and Capt. Cuthbert, in 1792—Lord +Valentia and Mr. Gawler, in 1796—William Pitt and George Tierney, in +1798—Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Paull, in 1807—Lord Castlereagh and Mr. +Canning, in 1809—Mr. O’Connell and Mr. D’Esterre, in 1815—Mr. Grattan +and the Earl of Clare, in 1820—Sir A. Boswell and James Stuart, in +1822—Mr. Long Wellesly and Mr. Crespigny, in 1828—the Duke of Wellington +and the Earl of Winchelsea, in 1829—Lord Alvanley and Morgan O’Connell, +in 1835—Sir Colquhon Grant and Lord Seymour, in 1835—Mr. Roebuck and Mr. +Black, in 1835—Mr. Ruthven and Mr. Scott, in 1836—the Earl of Cardigan +and Mr. Tuckett, in 1840.</p> + +<p>Sir J. Barrington says, that, during his grand climacteric, two hundred +and twenty-seven duels were fought. In different ages and nations, various +preventives have been employed. Killing in a duel, here and in England, is +murder, in the surviving principal, and seconds. To add effect to the law, +it was proclaimed, by 30, Charles II., 1679, to be <i>an unpardonable +offence</i>.</p> + +<p>Disqualification from holding office, and dismissal from the army and navy +have, at different times, been held up, in terrorem. In England, eighteen +survivors have suffered the penalty, provided against duelling. Major +Campbell was hung, in 1808, for having killed Capt. Boyd, in a duel.</p> + +<p>In 1813, Lieutenant Blundell was killed in a duel at Carisbroke Castle: +the survivor and both seconds were tried, and convicted of murder; and, +though subsequently pardoned, dismissed the service. “Duels,” says Sir +George Mackenzie, “are but illustrious murders.” Mr. Addison recommends +the pillory. The councils of Valentia and Trent excommunicated such +combatants; but a man, who has made up his mind to fight a duel, cares +little for the church.</p> + +<p>During the first eighteen years of the reign of Henry IV., four thousand +persons were slain, in duels, in France. He published his famous edict of +Blois, against duels, in 1602: and, in 1609, added, to the existing +penalties, punishment by death, confiscations, fines, and imprisonment, +respectively, for all, concerned in fighting or abetting, even as +spectators, or as casual passers, who did not interpose. All this, +however, was the work of Sully: for this consistent king, at this very +time, gave Crequi leave to fight the Duke of Savoy, and even told him, +that he would be his second, were he not a king.</p> + +<p>Duels were so frequent, in the reign of his successor, Louis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[Pg 607]</a></span> XIII., that +Lord Herbert, who was then ambassador, at the court of France, used to +say, there was not a Frenchman, worth looking at, who had not killed his +man. “<i>Who fought yesterday?</i>” was the mode of inquiring after the news of +the morning. The most famous duellist of the age was Montmorenci, Count de +Bouttville. He and the Marquis de Beuoron, setting their faces against all +authority, and, persisting in this amusement, it was found necessary to +take their stubborn heads off. They were tried, convicted, and beheaded. A +check was, at length, put to these excesses, by Louis XIV. A particular +account of all this will be found in Larrey, <i>Histoire de France, sons le +Régne de Louis XIV.</i>, tom. ii. p. 208. Matters, during the minority of +Louis XIV., had come to a terrible pass. The Dukes de Beaufort and Nemours +had fought a duel, with four seconds each, and converted it into a <i>Welch +main</i>, as the cock-fighters term a <i>meleé</i>. They fought, five to five, +with swords and pistols. Beaufort killed Nemours—the Marquis de Villars +killed D’Henricourt, and D’Uzerches killed De Ris. In 1663, another affair +took place, four to four. The king finally published his famous edict of +1679. The marshals of France and the nobility entered into a solemn league +and covenant, never to fight a duel, on any pretence whatever; and Louis +le Grand adhered to his oath, and resolutely refused pardon to every +offender. This greatly checked the evil, for a time.</p> + +<p>Kings will die, and their worthy purposes are not always inherited by +their successors; soon after the death of the great monarch, the practice +of duelling revived in France.</p> + +<p>The only radical and permanent preventive, of this equally barbarous, and +foolish custom, lies, in the moral and religious education of the people. +The infrequency of the practice, in New England, arises entirely from the +fact, that the moral and religious training of the community has taught +them to look upon a duellist, as an exceedingly unfashionable personage.</p> + +<p>New Englanders are a calculating race. They <i>calculate</i>, that it is +infinitely better to mind their business, and die quietly in their beds, +than to go out and be shot, by the very fellow, who has not the decency to +say he is sorry, for treading on their toes, when he was drunk—and they +are a fearful race, for they fear the reprehension of the wise and good, +and the commands of God, more than they fear the decisions of a lawless +tribunal, where fools sit in judgment, and whose absurd decrees are +written on the sand.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[Pg 608]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="No_CXLVI" id="No_CXLVI"></a>No. CXLVI.</h2> + + +<p>Some nine and thirty years ago, I was in the habit, occasionally, when I +had no call, in my line, of strolling over to the Navy Yard, at +Charlestown, and spending an evening, in the cabin of a long, dismantled, +old hulk, that was lying there. Once in a while, we had a very pleasant +dinner party, on board that old craft. That cabin was the head-quarters of +my host. It was the cabin of that ill-fated frigate, the Chesapeake. My +friend had been one of her deeply mortified officers, when she was +surrendered, by James Barron, to the British frigate Leopard, without +firing a gun, June 23, 1807.</p> + +<p>A sore subject this, for my brave, old friend. I well remember to have +dined, in that cabin, one fourth of July, with some very pleasant +associates—there were ten of us—we were very noisy then—all, but +myself, are still enough now—they are all in their graves. I recollect, +that, towards the close of the entertainment, some allusion to the old +frigate, in which we were assembled, revived the recollection of the day, +when those stars and stripes came down. We sat in silence, listening to +the narrative of our host, whose feelings were feverishly and painfully +excited—“It would have been a thousand times better,” said he, “if the +old hulk had gone to bottom and every man on board. The country might +then, possibly, have been spared the war; for our honor would have been +saved, and there would have been less to fight for. Unprepared as we were, +for such an attack, at a time of profound peace, we ought to have gone +down, like little Mudge, who, while his frigate was sinking, thanked God +the Blanche was not destined to wear French colors!”</p> + +<p>When he paused, and, with the back of his hand, brushed away the tears +from his eyes, we were all of his mind, and wished he had been in command, +that day, instead of James Barron; for this old friend of mine was a very, +very clever fellow—a warmer heart never beat in a braver bosom. There was +one thing, however, that I could never break him of, and yet I had some +little influence with him, in those days—I mean the <i>habit</i> of fighting +duels. He would not harm a fly, but he would shoot a man, in an honorable +way, at the shortest notice, and the shortest distance. He fought a duel, +on one <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609">[Pg 609]</a></span>occasion, when, being challenged, and having the choice of +distance, he insisted on three paces, saying he was so near-sighted, he +could not hit a barn door, at ten. He was apt to be, not affectedly, but +naturally, jocular, on such occasions.</p> + +<p>Another old friend of mine, in by-gone days, the elder son of the late +Governor Brooks, was second, in one of these duels, to the friend, of whom +I am speaking. Major Brooks had, occasionally, indulged himself, in the +publication of poetical effusions. When the parties and their seconds came +upon the ground, he found, that he had brought no leather, to envelop the +ball, as usual, in loading; and, drawing a newspaper from his pocket, tore +off the corner, on which some verses were printed: at this moment, his +principal drawing near, said, in an under tone, “<i>I hope that isn’t one of +your fugitive pieces, Alek</i>.”</p> + +<p>Though our lines were, of late years, cast far apart, I always rejoiced in +his good fortune. After having occupied a very elevated position, for some +time, in the naval department, he fell—poor fellow—not in a duel—but in +a moment, doubtless, of temporary, mental derangement, by his own hand. +The news of my old friend’s death reached me, just before dinner—I +postponed it till the next day—went home—sat alone—and had that old +dinner, in the cabin of the Chesapeake, warmed over, upon the coals of the +imagination, and seated around me every guest, who was there that day, +just as fresh, as if he had never been buried.</p> + +<p>James Barron was an unlucky dog, to say the least of it. Striking the +stars and stripes, without firing a gun, was enough for one life. For this +he was tried, found guilty, and suspended from duty, for five years, from +Feb. 8, 1808, and deprived of his pay. He went abroad; and, during his +absence, war was declared, which continued about two years, after the +termination of his suspension. He returned, at last, and sought +employment; Decatur officially opposed his claims; and thereupon he +challenged, and killed Decatur, the pride of the American navy; and, after +this, he received employment from the government. The services of James +Barron are not likely to be undervalued. Decatur’s offence consisted, in +his declaration of opinion, that Barron did not return to the service of +his country, as in duty bound. The duel took place March 22, 1820. After +this, Barron demanded a Court of Inquiry, to settle this point. The Court +consisted of Commodores Stewart and Morris and Captain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_610" id="Page_610">[Pg 610]</a></span> Evans, and +convened May 10, 1821, and the conclusion of the sentence is this—“It is +therefore the opinion of the court, that his (Barron’s) absence from the +United States, without the permission of the government, was contrary to +his duty, as an officer, in the navy of the United States.”</p> + +<p>Here then was another silly and senseless duel. Mr. Allen, in his +Biographical Dictionary remarks—“The correspondence issued in a challenge +from Barron, though he considered duelling ‘<i>a barbarous practice, which +ought to be exploded from civilized society</i>.’ And the challenge was +accepted by Decatur, though he ‘<i>had long since discovered, that fighting +duels is not even an unerring criterion of personal courage</i>.’”</p> + +<p>They fired at the same instant; Barron fell immediately, wounded in the +hip, where Decatur had mercifully declared his intention to wound him; +Decatur stood erect, for a moment—put his hand to his right side—and +fell, mortally wounded. He was raised, and supported, a few steps, and +sunk down, exhausted, near Barron. Captain Mackenzie, in his Life of +Decatur, page 322, gives his opinion, that this duel could have been +gracefully prevented, on the ground; and such will be the judgment, +doubtless, of posterity. Capt. Jesse D. Elliot was the second of +Barron—Com. Bainbridge of Decatur. After they had taken their stands, +Barron said to Decatur, that he hoped, “<i>on meeting, in another world, +they would be better friends, than they had been in this</i>.”</p> + +<p>To this Decatur replied, “<i>I have never been your enemy, sir</i>.” “Why,” +says Captain Mackenzie, “could not this aspiration for peace, between +them, in the next world, on one part, and this comprehensive disclaimer of +all enmity, on the other, have been seized by the friends, for the +purposes of reconciliation?” A pertinent question truly—but of very ready +solution. These seconds, like most others, acted, like military +undertakers; their office consists, as they seem to suppose, in seeing the +bodies duly cared for; and all consideration for the chief mourners, and +such the very principals often are, is out of the question. With all his +excellent qualities, Commodore Bainbridge, as every one, who knew him +well, will readily admit, was not possessed of that happy mixture of +qualities, to avail of this pacific <i>prestige</i>. It was an overture—such +Barron afterwards avowed it to have been. On the 10th of October, 1818, +Decatur had been the second of Com. Perry, in his duel with Captain Heath, +which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611">[Pg 611]</a></span> was terminated, after the first fire, by Decatur’s declaration, +that Com. Perry had avowed his purpose, not to fire at Capt Heath. Had +Perry lived, and been at hand, it is highly probable, that Decatur would +not have fallen, for Perry would, doubtless, have been his second, and +readily availed of the expressions of the parties, on the ground.</p> + +<p>Had Charles Morris, whose gallantry and discretion have mingled into a +proverb—had he been the second of his old commander, by whose side, he +stood, on the Philadelphia’s deck, in that night of peril, February, 1804, +who can doubt, the pacific issue of this most miserable adventure! +Seconds, too frequently, are themselves the instigators and supporters of +these combats. True or false, the tale is a fair one, of two friends, who +had disputed over their cups; and, by the exciting expressions of some +common acquaintances, were urged into a duel. They met early the next +morning—the influence of the liquor had departed—the seconds loaded the +pistols, and placed their principals—but, before the word was given, one +of them, rubbing his eyes, and looking about him, exclaims—“there is some +mistake, there can be no enmity between us two, my old friend; these +fellows, who have brought us here, upon this foolish errand, are our +enemies, let us fire at them.” The proposition was highly relished, by the +other party, and the seconds took to their heels.</p> + +<p>Well: we left Decatur and Barron, lying side by side, and weltering in +their blood. The strife was past, and they came to a sort of friendly +understanding. Barron, supposing his wound to be fatal, said all things +had been conducted honorably, and that he forgave Decatur, from the bottom +of his heart. Mackenzie, in a note, on page 325, refers to a conversation +between them, as they lay upon the ground, until the means of +transportation arrived. He does not give the details, but says they would +be “creditable to the parties, and soothing to the feelings of the +humane.” I understood, at the time, from a naval officer of high rank, and +have heard it often, repeated, that Decatur said, “Barron, why didn’t you +come home and fight your country’s battles?” that Barron replied, “I was +too poor to pay my debts, and couldn’t get away,”—and that Decatur +rejoined, “If I had known that, we should not be lying here.” Strip this +matter of its honorable epidermis, and there is something quite ridiculous +in the idea of doing such an unpleasant thing, and all for nothing!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_612" id="Page_612">[Pg 612]</a></span>These changes, from hostility to amity, are often extremely sudden. I have +read, that Rapin, the historian, when young, fought a duel, late in the +evening, with small swords. His sword broke near the hilt—he did not +perceive it, and continued to fence with the hilt alone. His antagonist +paused and gave him notice; and, like the two girls, in the Antijacobin, +they flew into each other’s arms, and “swore perpetual amity.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXLVII" id="No_CXLVII"></a>No. CXLVII.</h2> + + +<p>M. De Vassor wrote with a faulty pen, when he asserted, in his history, +that the only good thing Louis XIV. did, in his long reign of fifty-six +years, consisted in his vigorous attempts, to suppress the practice of +duelling. Cardinal Richelieu admits, however, in his <i>Political +Testament</i>, that his own previous efforts had been ineffectual, although +he caused Messieurs de Chappelle and Bouteville to be executed, for the +crime, in disregard of the earnest importunities of their numerous and +powerful friends. No public man ever did more, for the suppression of the +practice, than Lord Bacon, while he was attorney general. His celebrated +charge, upon an information in the star chamber, against Priest & Wright, +vol. iv. page 399, Lond. 1824, was ordered to be printed, by the Lords of +Council; and was vastly learned and powerful, in its way. It is rather +amusing, upon looking at the decree, which followed, dated Jan. 26, 2 +James I., to see how such matters were then managed; the information, +against Priest, was, “<i>for writing and sending a letter of challenge +together with a stick, which should be the length of the weapon</i>.”</p> + +<p>Such measures are surely well enough, as far as they go; but can be of no +lasting influence, unless certain processes are simultaneously carried on, +to meliorate the moral tone, in society. Without the continual employment +of moral and religious alteratives—laws, homilies, charges, decrees, +ridicule, menances of disinherison here, and damnation hereafter will be +of very little use. They are outward applications—temporary repellants, +which serve no other purpose, than to drive back the distemper, for a +brief space, but reach not the seat of the disorder. As was stated, in a +former number, nothing will put an end to this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_613" id="Page_613">[Pg 613]</a></span> practice, but +indoctrination—the mild, antiphlogistic system of the Gospel. Wherever +its gentle spirit prevails, combined with intellectual and moral culture, +there will be no duels. Temperance forms, necessarily, an important part +of that antiphlogistic system—for a careful examination will show, that, +in a very great number of cases, duels have originated over the table—we +import them, corked up in bottles, which turn out, now and then, to be +vials of wrath.</p> + +<p>One of the most ferocious duels, upon record, is that, between Lord Bruce +and Sir Edward Sackville, of which the survivor, Sir Edward, wrote an +account from Louvain, Sept. 8, 1613. These fellows appear to have been +royal tigers, untameable even by Herr Driesbach. This brutal and bloody +fight took place, at Bergen op Zoom, near Antwerp. The <i>cause</i> of this +terrible duel has never been fully ascertained, but the <i>manner and +instrument</i>, by which these blood-thirsty gentlemen were put in the +ablative, are indicated in the letter—they fought with <i>rapiers and in +their shirts</i>. I have neither room nor taste for the details: by the +curious in such matters, some account may be gathered, in Collins’s +Peerage, which refers to the correspondence, preserved in manuscript, in +Queen’s College library, Oxford. These, with Sir Edward’s letter, may be +found in Wood’s Athenæ Oxonienses also, vol. iii. page 314, Lond. 1817. +Wood says—“<i>he (Sackville) entered into a fatal quarrel, upon a subject +very unwarrantable, with a young Scottish nobleman, the Lord Bruce</i>.” +Sackville was afterward Earl of Dorset. A more accessible authority, for +the reader, probably, is the Guardian, vol. iii. No. 133, though the +former is more full, and taken from the original manuscript, in the +Ashmole Museum, with the ancient spelling.</p> + +<p>The duel, with swords, between the Lords Mohun and Hamilton, in Hyde Park, +Nov. 15, 1712, was nearly as brutal. Both were killed. Richard Brinsley +Sheridan’s duel with Matthews—the second I mean, for they had two +duels—was a very doglike thing indeed. They fought, first, with pistols, +and, not killing each other, as speedily as they wished, resorted to their +swords. They cut and pricked each other, at a terrible rate; and, losing +all patience and temper, closed, rough and tumble, went heels over head, +rolled, and puffed, and tussled, in the dust and dirt, till, at last, they +were literally pulled apart, like two dogs, by their tails, and a part of +Matthews’ sword was found sticking in Sheridan’s ear. Gentlemanly +satisfaction this! It has <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_614" id="Page_614">[Pg 614]</a></span>sometimes occurred, that advantages, unduly +taken, on the ground, such as firing out of order, for example, have +converted the killing into murder, in the eyes even of the seconds, which +it ever is, at all such meetings, in the eye of the law. Such was the case +in the duels, between M’Keon and Reynolds, Jan. 31, 1788, and between +Campbell and Boyd, June 23, 1808.</p> + +<p>Doubtless, there are men of wonderfully well balanced minds, who go about +their business, with great apparent composure, after they have killed +their antagonists in duels. Now and then, there is one, who takes things +more gravely—<i>nervously</i>, perhaps. Poor fellow, he feels rather +unpleasantly, when he chances to go by the husbandless mansion—or passes +that woman, whom he has made a widow—or sees, hand in hand, those little +children, in their sober garments, whom the accursed cunning of his red, +right hand has rendered orphans! Such feeble spirits there are—the heart +of a duellist should be made of sterner stuff.</p> + +<p>June 8, 1807, Mr. Colclough was killed in a duel, by Mr. Alcock, who +immediately lost his reason, and was carried from the ground to the +madhouse. Some years ago, I visited the Lunatic Hospital in Philadelphia; +and there saw, among its inmates, a well known gentleman, who had killed +<i>his friend</i>, in a duel. He had referred, while conversing, to his hair, +which had grown very gray, since I last saw him. A bystander said, in a +mild way—gray hairs are honorable—“<i>Aye</i>,” he replied, “<i>honor made my +hairs gray</i>.”</p> + +<p>I know, very well, that the common, lawless duel is supposed, by many +persons, to have sprung from the old <i>wager of battel</i>, defined, by Fleta, +in his law Latin, <i>singularis pugnus inter duos ad probandum litem, et qui +vicit probasse intelligitur</i>. The first time we hear of the <i>wager of +Battel</i>, as a written judicial rule, is A. D. 501, in the reign of +Gundibald, king of Burgundy; and it was in use, among the Germans, Danes, +and Franks. The practice or usage was common, however, to all the Celtic +nations. It came into England, with William the Conqueror. It happens, +however, that men have ever been disposed to settle their disputes, by +fighting about them, since the world began.</p> + +<p>If the classical reader will open his Velleius Paterculus, lib. ii., and +read the first sentence of section 118, he will see, that, when Quintilius +Varus endeavored to persuade the rude Germans, to adopt the laws and +usages of Rome, in the adjustment of their disputes, between man and man, +they laughed at his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615">[Pg 615]</a></span> simplicity, and told him they had a summary mode of +settling these matters, among themselves, by the arm of flesh. This +occurred, shortly after the birth of Christ, or about 500 years <i>before</i> +the time of Gundibald. Instead of attempting to trace the origin of modern +duelling to the legalized <i>wager of battel</i>, we may as well look for its +moving cause, in the heart of man.</p> + +<p>Duels are of very ancient origin. Abel was a noncombatant. Had it been +otherwise, the affair, between him and Cain, would have been the first +affair of honor; and his death would not have been <i>murder</i>, but <i>killing +in a duel</i>! One thousand and fifty-eight years, according to the +chronology of Calmet, before the birth of Christ, the very first duel was +fought, near a place called <i>Shochoh</i>, which certainly sounds as roughly, +on the ear, as <i>Hoboken</i>. There seems not to have been, upon that +occasion, any of the ceremony, practised, now-a-days—there were no +regular seconds—no surgeons—no marking off the ground—and each party +had the right, to use whatever weapons he pleased.</p> + +<p>Two armies were drawn up, in the face of each other. A man, of unusually +large proportions, stepped between them, and proposed an adjustment of +their national differences, by single combat, and challenged any man of +his opponents, to fight a duel with him. He was certainly a fine looking +fellow, and armed to the teeth. He came, without any second or friend, to +adjust the preliminaries; and no one was with him, but an armor bearer, +who carried his shield. The audacity of this unexpected challenge, and the +tremendous limbs of the challenger, for a time, produced a sort of panic, +in the opposite army—no man seemed inclined to break a spear with the +tall champion. At last, after he had strutted up and down, for some time, +there came along a smart little fellow, a sort of cowboy or sheep-herd, +who was sent to the army by his father, with some provisions, for his +three brothers, who had enlisted, and a few fine cheeses, for the colonel +of their regiment, the father thinking, very naturally, doubtless, that a +present of this kind might pave the way for their promotion. The old +gentleman’s name was Jesse—an ancestor, doubtless, of John Heneage Jesse, +whose memoirs of George Selwyn we have all read, with so much pleasure. +The young fellow arrived with his cheeses, at the very time, when this +huge braggart was going about, strutting and defying. Hearing, that the +King had offered his daughter in marriage, with a handsome dowry, to any +one, who would kill this great bugbear out of the way, this stripling +offered to do it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_616" id="Page_616">[Pg 616]</a></span>When he was brought into the royal presence, the King, struck by his youth +and slender figure, told him, without ceremony, that the proposition was +perfect nonsense, and that he would certainly get his brains knocked out, +by such a terrible fellow. But the young man seemed nothing daunted, and +respectfully informed his majesty, that, upon one occasion, he had had an +affair with a lion, and, upon another, with a bear, and that he had taken +the lion by the beard, and slain him.</p> + +<p>The King finally consented, and proceeded to put armor on the boy, who +told his majesty, that he was very much obliged to him, but had much +rather go without it. The challenge was duly accepted. But, when they came +together, on the ground, all the modern notions of etiquette appear to +have been set entirely at defiance. Contrary to all the rules of +propriety, the principals commenced an angry conversation. When the +challenger first saw the little fellow, coming towards him, with a stick +and a sling, he really supposed they were hoaxing him. He felt somewhat, +perhaps, like Mr. Crofts, when he was challenged, in 1664, by Humphrey +Judson, the dwarf; who, nevertheless, killed him, at the first fire.</p> + +<p>When the youngster marched up to him, the challenger was very indignant, +and asked if he took him for a dog, that he came out to him, with a stick; +and, in a very ungentlemanly way, hinted something about making mince meat +of his little antagonist, for the crows. The little fellow was not to be +outdone, in this preparatory skirmish of words; for he threatened to take +off the giant’s head in a jiffy, and told him the ravens should have an +alderman’s meal, upon his carcass.</p> + +<p>Such bandying of rough words is entirely out of order, on such occasions. +At it they went; and, at the very first fire, down came the bully upon his +face, struck, upon the frontal sinus, with a smooth stone from a sling. +The youngster, I am sorry to say, contrary to all the rules of duelling, +ran up to him, after he was down, and chopped off his head, with his own +sword; for, as I have already stated, there were no seconds, and there was +no surgeon at hand, to attend to the mutilated gentleman, after he was +satisfied.</p> + +<p>The survivor, who seems to have been the founder of his own +fortune—<i>novus homo</i>—became eminently distinguished for his fine +poetical talents, and composed a volume of lyrics, which have passed +through innumerable editions. The one hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_617" id="Page_617">[Pg 617]</a></span> and forty-fourth of the +series is supposed, by the critics, to have been commemorative of this +very affair of honor—<i>Blessed be the Lord, my strength, who teacheth my +hands to war, and my fingers to fight</i>.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXLVIII" id="No_CXLVIII"></a>No. CXLVIII.</h2> + + +<p>The duel, between David and Goliath, bears a striking resemblance to that, +between Titus Manlius and the Gaul, so finely described, by Livy, lib. +vii. cap. 10. In both cases, the circumstances, at the commencement, were +precisely alike. The armies of the Hernici and of the Romans were drawn +up, on the opposite banks of the Anio—those of the Israelites and of the +Philistines, on two mountains, on the opposite sides of the valley of +Elah. “Tum eximia corporis magnitudine in vacuum pontem Gallus processit, +et quantum maxima voce potuit, <i>quem nunc</i> inquit <i>Roma virum fortissimum +habet, procedat, agedum, ad pugnam, ut noster duorum eventus ostendat, +utra gens bello sit melior</i>.” Then, a Gaul of enormous size, came down +upon the unoccupied bridge, and cried out, as loud as he could, let the +bravest of the Romans come forth—let him come on—and let the issue of +our single combat decide, which nation is superior in war.—And there went +out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath of Gath, +whose height was six cubits and a span. * * * * And he stood, and cried +unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them, why are ye come out to set +your battle in array? Am not I a Philistine, and ye servants of Saul? +Choose you a man for you, and let him come down to me. If he be able to +fight with me and to kill me, then will we be your servants; but if I +prevail against him and kill him, then shall ye be our servants, and serve +us.</p> + +<p>The next point, is the effect upon the two armies: “Diu inter primores +juvenum Romanorum silentium fuit, quum et abnuere certamen vererentur, et +præcipuam sortem periculi petere nollent.” There was a long silence, upon +this, among the chiefs of the young Romans; for, while they were afraid to +refuse the challenge, they were reluctant to encounter this peculiar kind +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_618" id="Page_618">[Pg 618]</a></span> peril.—When Saul and all Israel heard those words of the Philistine, +they were dismayed and greatly afraid.</p> + +<p>After Titus Manlius had accepted the challenge, he seems desirous of +giving his commander a proof of his confidence in himself, and the +reasons, or grounds, of that confidence: “Si tu permittis, volo ego illi +belluæ ostendere, quando adeo ferox præsultat hostium signis, me ex ea +familia ortum, quæ Gallorum agmen ex rupe Tarpeia dejecit.” If you will +permit me, I will show this brute, after he has vaunted a little longer, +in this braggart style, before the banners of the enemy, that I am sprung +from the family, that hurled the whole host of Gauls from the Tarpeian +rock.—And David said to Saul, let no man’s heart fail because of him, thy +servant will go and fight with this Philistine. * * * * Thy servant kept +his father’s sheep, and there came a lion and a bear, and took a lamb out +of the flock. And I went out after him, and delivered it out of his mouth; +and when he arose against me, I caught him, by his beard, and smote him +and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear, and this +uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them.</p> + +<p>The difference in their port and appearance may also be considered. +“Nequaquam visu ac specie æstimantibus pares. Corpus alteri magnitudine +eximium, versicolori veste, pictisque et auro cælatis refulgens armis; +media in altero militaris statura, modicaque in armis habilibus magis quam +decoris species.” In size and appearance, there was no resemblance. The +frame of the Gaul was enormous. He wore a vest whose color was changeable, +and his refulgent arms were highly ornamented and studded with gold. The +Roman was of middle military stature, and his simple weapons were +calculated for service and not for show. Of Goliath we read—He had a +helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail. * * * +And he had greaves of brass upon his legs, and a target of brass between +his shoulders, and the staff of his spear was like a weaver’s beam; and +David took his staff in his hand, and chose him five smooth stones out of +the brook, and put them in a shepherd’s bag which he had, even in a scrip, +and his sling was in his hand. The General’s consent is given to Titus +Manlius, in these words—“Perge et nomen Romanum invictum, juvantibus +diis, præsta.” Go, and have a care, the gods assisting thee, that the +Roman name remains unconquered. And Saul said unto David, Go,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_619" id="Page_619">[Pg 619]</a></span> and the +Lord be with thee. The Philistine and the Gaul were both speedily killed, +and here the parallel ends; for David hewed off the Philistine’s head. The +Roman was more generous than the child of Israel—“Jacentis inde corpus, +ab omni alia vexatione intactum, uno torque spoliavit; quem, respersum +cruore, collo circumdedit suo.” He despoiled the body of his fallen foe, +in no otherwise insulted, of a chain, which, bloody, as it was, he placed +around his own neck. I cannot turn from this gallant story, without +remarking, that this Titus Manlius must have been a terrible wag: Livy +says, that his young companions having prepared him for the duel—“armatum +adornatumque adversus Gallum stolide lætum, et (quoniam id quoque memoria +dignum antiquis visum est) linguam, etiam ab irrisu exscrentem, +producunt”—they brought him forward, armed and prepared for his conflict +with the Gaul, childishly delighted, and (since the ancients have thought +it worth repeating) waggishly thrusting his tongue out of his mouth, in +derision of his antagonist.</p> + +<p>Doubtless, the challenge of Charles V. by Francis I., in which affair, +Charles, in the opinion of some folks, showed a little, if the cant phrase +be allowable, of the white feather, gave an impetus to the practice of +duelling. Doubtless, the <i>wager of battel</i> supplied something of the form +and ceremony, the use of seconds, and measuring the lists, the signal of +onset, &c. of modern duels: but the principle was in the bosom of Adam, +and the practice is of the highest antiquity.</p> + +<p>Woman, in some way or other, has been, very often, at the bottom of these +duels. Helen, as the chief occasion of the Trojan war, was, of course, the +cause of Hector’s duel with Ajax, which duel, as the reader will see, by +turning to his Iliad, lib. viii. v. 279, was stopped, by the police, at +the very moment, when both gentlemen, having thrown their lances aside, +were drawing their long knives. Lavinia set Turnus and Æneas by the cars. +Turnus challenged him twice. Upon the first occasion, Æneas was unwell; +but, upon the second, they had a meeting, and he killed his man. David +would not have accepted Goliath’s challenge, had not his heart been set +upon Saul’s daughter, <i>and the shekels</i>. I find nothing of this, in the +commentators; but the reader may find it, in the Book of Nature, <i>passim</i>. +For one so young, David practised, with all the wariness of an old +bachelor. When he first arrived in camp, some one asked him, if he had +seen Goliath, and added, <i>and it shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_620" id="Page_620">[Pg 620]</a></span> be that the man who killeth him +the King will enrich him with great riches, and will give him his +daughter</i>. David had no idea of going upon a fool’s errand; and, to make +matters sure, he turned to those about him, and inquired, clearly for +confirmation, <i>what shall be done to the man that killeth this +Philistine?</i> And they repeated what he had heard before. David was a +discreet youth, for one of his time, the titman, as he was, of Jesse’s +eight children—and, to avoid all chance of mistake, he walks off to +another person, near at hand, and repeats his inquiry, and receives a +similar answer. Sam. I. xvii. 30. A wide difference there is, between the +motives of Titus Manlius, in accepting the challenge of the Gaul, and +those of David, in accepting that of the Philistine—the love of country +and of glory in the first—in the last, the desire of possessing Saul’s +daughter <i>and the shekels</i>.</p> + +<p>Duels have been occasioned, by other Helens than her of Troy. A pleasant +tale is told, by Valvasor, in his work, <i>La Gloire de Duche de Carniole</i>, +Liv. ii. p. 634—of Andrew Eberhard Rauber, a German Knight, and Lord of +the fortress of Petronel. Maximilian II., Emperor of Germany, had a +natural daughter, Helen Scharseginn, of exquisite beauty, who had a brace +of gallant admirers, of whom Rauber was one—the other was a Spanish +gentleman, of high rank. Both were at the court of Maximilian, and in such +high favor, that the Emperor was extremely unwilling to disoblige either. +Upon the lifting of a finger, these gallants were ready to fight a score +of duels, for the lady’s favor, in the most approved fashion of the day. +To this the Emperor was decidedly opposed; and, had they resorted to such +extremities, neither would have taken anything, by his motion. The Emperor +secretly preferred the German alliance, but was unwilling to offend the +Spaniard. He was young and of larger proportions, than his German rival; +but Rauber’s prodigious strength had become a proverb, through the land. +He had the power of breaking horse-shoes with his thumbs and fingers; and, +upon one occasion, at Gratz, in the presence of the Archduke Charles, +according to Valvasor’s account, he seized an insolent Jew, by his long +beard, and actually pulled his jaw off. He was a terrible antagonist, of +course.</p> + +<p>Maximilian, heartily wearied with their incessant strife and importunity, +finally consented, that the question should be settled, by a duel, in +presence of the whole court. The hour was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_621" id="Page_621">[Pg 621]</a></span> appointed, and the parties duly +notified. The terms of the conflict were to be announced, by the Emperor. +The day arrived. The Lords and Ladies of the Court were assembled, to +witness the combat; and the rivals presented themselves, with their +weapons, prepared to struggle manfully, for life and love.</p> + +<p>The Emperor commanded the combatants to lay their rapiers aside, and each +was presented with a large bag or sack; and they were told, that whichever +should succeed, in putting the other into the sack, should be entitled to +the hand of the fair Helen Scharseginn.</p> + +<p>Though, doubtless, greatly surprised, by this extraordinary announcement, +there appeared to be no alternative, and at it they went. After a +protracted struggle, amid shouts of laughter from the spectators, Rauber, +Lord of the fortress of Petronel, obtained the victory, bagged his bird, +and encased the haughty Spaniard in the sack, who, shortly after, departed +from the court of Maximilian.</p> + +<p>Would to God, that all duels were as harmless, in their consequences. It +is not precisely so. When the gentleman, that does the murder, and the two +or more gentlemen, who aid and abet, have finished their handiwork, the +end is not yet—mother, wife, sisters, brothers, children are involuntary +parties—the iron, or the lead, which pierced that selfish heart, must +enter their very souls.</p> + +<p>Where these encounters have proved fatal, the survivors, as I have stated, +have, occasionally, gone mad. It is not very common, to be sure, for duels +to produce such melancholy consequences, as those, which occurred, after +that, between Cameron and McLean, in 1722. McLean was killed. Upon +receiving the intelligence, his aged mother lost her reason, and closed +her days in a mad-house. The lady, to whom he was betrothed, expired in +convulsions, upon the third day, after the event—<i>n’importe!</i></p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CXLIX" id="No_CXLIX"></a>No. CXLIX.</h2> + + +<p>It is quite unpleasant, after having diligently read a volume of memoirs, +or voyages, or travels, and carefully transferred a goodly number of +interesting items to one’s common-place <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_622" id="Page_622">[Pg 622]</a></span>book—to discover, that the work, +<i>ab ovo usque ad mala</i>, is an ingenious tissue of deliberate lies. It is +no slight aggravation of this species of affliction, to reflect, that one +has highly commended the work, to some of his acquaintances, who are no +way remarkable, for their bowels of compassion, and whose intelligible +smile he is certain to encounter, when they first meet again, after the +<i>éclaircissement</i>.</p> + +<p>There is very little of the <i>hæc olim meminisse juvabit</i>, in store, for +those, who have been thus misled. If there had been, absolutely, no +foundation for the story, in the credulity of certain members of the Royal +Society, Butler would not, probably, have produced his pleasant account of +“<i>the elephant in the moon</i>.” There were some very grave gentlemen, of +lawful age, who were inclined to receive, for sober truth, that +incomparable hoax, of which Sir John Herschell was represented, as the +hero.</p> + +<p>Damberger’s travels, in Africa, and his personal adventures there gave me +great pleasure, when I was a boy; and I remember to have felt excessively +indignant, when I discovered, that the work was written, in a garret, in +the city of Amsterdam, by a fellow who had never quitted Europe.</p> + +<p>I never derived much pleasure or instruction, from Wraxall’s memoirs of +the Kings of France of the race of Valois, nor from his tour through the +Southern Provinces, published in 1777. But his Historical memoirs of his +own time, prepared, somewhat after the manner of De Thou, and Bishop +Burnet, and extending from 1772 to 1784, I well remember to have read, +with very considerable pleasure, in 1816; and was pained to find them cut +up, however unmercifully, with so much irresistible justice, in the +Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews, and the British Critic. Mr. Wraxall made +matters immeasurably worse, by his defence. There could be no adequate +defence, for a man, who had asserted, that Lord Dorset told him an +anecdote, touching an event, <i>which event did not happen, till Lord Dorset +was dead</i>. A single instance of this kind, in a writer of common accuracy, +might be carried, in charity, to the debit of chance, or forgetfulness; +but the catalogue, presented by the reviewers, is truly overpowering. To +close the account, Sir N. W. Wraxall was, in May, 1816, convicted of a +libel, in these very memoirs, upon Count Woronzow, the Russian minister; +and Mr. Wraxall was imprisoned in Newgate, for that offence.</p> + +<p>After this disqualification of my witness, I am, nevertheless,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_623" id="Page_623">[Pg 623]</a></span> about to +vouch in Mr. Wraxall, by reciting one of his stories, in illustration of a +principle. I quote from memory—I have not the work—the reviewers +prevented me from buying it. June 16, 1743, the battle of Dettingen was +fought, and won, by George II. in person, and the Earl of Stair, against +the Marechal de Noailles and the Duke de Grammont. Mr. Wraxall +relates—<i>me memoria mea non fallente</i>—the following incident. After the +battle, the Earl gave a dinner, at his quarters; and, among the guests, +were several of the French prisoners of war. Of course, the Earl of Stair +presided, at one end of the table—at the other sat a gentleman, of very +common-place appearance, of small stature, thin and pale, evidently an +invalid, and who, unless addressed, scarcely opened his lips, during the +entertainment. This unobtrusive, and rather unprepossessing, young man was +the Lord Mark Kerr, the nephew, and the aid-de-camp of the Earl. After the +removal of the cloth, the gentlemen discussed the subject of the battle, +and the manœuvres, by which the victory had been achieved. A difference +of opinion arose, between the Earl and one of the French Colonels, as to +the time of a particular movement. The latter became highly excited, and +very confident he was right. The Earl referred to Lord Mark Kerr, whose +position, at the time of that movement, rendered his decision conclusive. +Lord Mark politely assured the French Colonel, that he was mistaken; upon +which the Frenchman instantly insulted him, without saying a word, but in +that felicitous manner, which enables a Frenchman to convey an insult, +even by his mode of taking snuff. Soon after, the party broke up, and the +Earl of Stair was left alone. In about half an hour, Lord Mark Kerr +returned, and found his uncle very much disturbed.</p> + +<p>“Nephew,” said he, “you know my strong dislike of duelling. In our +situation we are sometimes, perhaps, unable to avoid it. The French +Colonel insulted you, at table; others noticed it, besides myself. I fear, +my dear nephew, you will have to ask him to apologize.”</p> + +<p>“I noticed it myself, my Lord,” replied the Lord Mark; “you need have no +trouble, on that account—we have already met—I ran him through the body; +and they are now burying him, in the outer court.”</p> + +<p>Duels are often produced, by a foolish, and fatal misestimate, which one +man makes of another’s temperament. The diminutive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_624" id="Page_624">[Pg 624]</a></span> frame, the pale cheek, +and small voice, modest carriage, youth, and inexperience, afford no +certain indicia: <i>nimium ne crede colori</i>. Men of small stature, are +sometimes the more <i>brusque</i>, and more on the <i>qui vive</i>, from this very +circumstance.</p> + +<p class="poem">Ingentes animos angusto in pectore volvunt.</p> + +<p>That a man will not fight, like a dragon, simply because he has neither +the stature of Falstaff, nor the lungs of Bottom, is a well authenticated +<i>non sequitur</i>.</p> + +<p>A well told, and well substantiated illustration of all this, may be +found, in Mackenzie’s Life of Decatur, page 55. I refer to the case of +Joseph Bainbridge, who, in 1803, when a midshipman, and an inexperienced +boy, was purposely and wantonly insulted, at Malta, by a professed +duellist, the Secretary of Sir Alexander Ball, the Governor. No one can +read Mackenzie’s Narrative, without a conviction, that Bainbridge owed the +preservation of his life, to the address of Decatur. They met—fired +twice, at four paces; and, at the second fire, the English duellist fell, +mortally wounded in the head: Bainbridge was untouched.</p> + +<p>When I was a school boy, more than fifty years ago, I remember to have +read, in an English journal, whose name I have now forgotten, a story, +which may have been a fiction; but which was very naturally told, and made +a deep impression upon me then. I will endeavor to draw it forth from the +locker of my memory; and engage, beforehand, to be very much indebted to +any one, who will indicate its original source.</p> + +<p>Three young gentlemen, who had finished the most substantial part of their +repast, were lingering over their fruit and wine, at an eating-house, in +London; when a man, of middle age, and middle stature, entered the public +room, where they were sitting; seated himself, at one end of a small, +unoccupied table; and, calling the waiter, ordered a simple mutton chop, +and a glass of ale. His appearance, at first view, was not likely to +arrest the attention of any one. His hair was getting to be thin and gray; +the expression of his countenance was sedate, with a slight touch, +perhaps, of melancholy; and he wore a gray surtout, with a standing +collar, which, manifestly, had seen service, if the wearer had not—just +such a thing, as an officer would bestow upon his serving man. He might be +taken for a country magistrate, or an attorney, of limited practice, or a +schoolmaster.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_625" id="Page_625">[Pg 625]</a></span>He continued to masticate his chop, and sip his ale, in silence, without +lifting his eyes from the table, until a melon seed, sportively snapped, +from between the thumb and finger of one of the gentlemen, at the opposite +table, struck him upon the right ear. His eye was instantly upon the +aggressor; and his ready intelligence gathered, from the illy suppressed +merriment of the party, that this petty impertinence was intentional.</p> + +<p>The stranger stooped, and picked up the melon seed, and a scarcely +perceptible smile passed over his features, as he carefully wrapped up the +seed, in a piece of paper, and placed it in his pocket. This singular +procedure, with their preconceived impressions of their customer, somewhat +elevated, as they were, by the wine they had partaken, capsized their +gravity entirely, and a burst of irresistible laughter proceeded from the +group.</p> + +<p>Unmoved by this rudeness, the stranger continued to finish his frugal +repast, in quiet, until another melon seed, from the same hand, struck +him, upon the right elbow. This also, to the infinite amusement of the +other party, he picked from the floor, and carefully deposited with the +first.</p> + +<p>Amidst shouts of laughter, a third melon seed was, soon after, discharged, +which hit him, upon the left breast. This also he, very deliberately took +from the floor, and deposited with the other two.</p> + +<p>As he rose, and was engaged in paying for his repast, the gayety of these +sporting gentlemen became slightly subdued. It was not easy to account for +this. Lavater would not have been able to detect the slightest evidence of +irritation or resentment, upon the features of the stranger. He seemed a +little taller, to be sure, and the carriage of his head might have +appeared to them rather more erect. He walked to the table, at which they +were sitting, and with that air of dignified calmness, which is a thousand +times more terrible than wrath, drew a card from his pocket, and presented +it, with perfect civility, to the offender, who could do no less than +offer his own, in return. While the stranger unclosed his surtout, to take +the card from his pocket, they had a glance at the undress coat of a +military man. The card disclosed his rank, and a brief inquiry at the bar +was sufficient for the rest. He was a captain, whom ill health and long +service had entitled to half pay. In earlier life he had been engaged in +several affairs of honor, and, in the dialect of the fancy, was a dead +shot.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_626" id="Page_626">[Pg 626]</a></span>The next morning a note arrived at the aggressor’s residence, containing a +challenge, in form, and one only of the melon seeds. The truth then +flashed before the challenged party—it was the challenger’s intention to +make three bites at this cherry, three separate affairs out of this +unwarrantable frolic! The challenge was accepted, and the challenged +party, in deference to the challenger’s reputed skill with the pistol, had +half decided upon the small sword; but his friends, who were on the alert, +soon discovered, that the captain, who had risen by his merit, had, in the +earlier days of his necessity, gained his bread, as an accomplished +instructor, in the use of that very weapon. They met and fired, +alternately, by lot; the young man had elected this mode, thinking he +might win the first fire—he did—fired, and missed his opponent. The +captain levelled his pistol and fired—the ball passed through the flap of +the right ear, and grazed the bone; and, as the wounded man involuntarily +put his hand to the place, he remembered that it was on the right ear of +his antagonist, that the first melon seed had fallen. Here ended the first +lesson. A month had passed. His friends cherished the hope, that he would +hear nothing more from the captain, when another note—a challenge of +course—and another of those accursed melon seeds arrived, with the +captain’s apology, on the score of ill-health, for not sending it before.</p> + +<p>Again they met—fired simultaneously, and the captain, who was unhurt, +shattered the right elbow of his antagonist—the very point upon which he +had been struck by the second melon seed: and here ended the second +lesson. There was something awfully impressive, in the <i>modus operandi</i>, +and exquisite skill of this antagonist. The third melon seed was still in +his possession, and the aggressor had not forgotten, that it had struck +the unoffending gentleman, upon the left breast! A month had +past—another—and another, of terrible suspense; but nothing was heard +from the captain. Intelligence had been received, that he was confined to +his lodgings, by illness. At length, the gentleman who had been his +second, in the former duels, once more presented himself, and tendered +another note, which, as the recipient perceived, on taking it, contained +the last of the melon seeds. The note was superscribed in the captain’s +well known hand, but it was the writing evidently of one, who wrote +<i>deficiente manu</i>. There was an unusual solemnity also, in the manner of +him, who delivered it. The seal was broken, and there was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_627" id="Page_627">[Pg 627]</a></span> melon seed, +in a blank envelope—“And what, sir, am I to understand by this?”—“You +will understand, sir, that my friend forgives you—he is dead.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CL" id="No_CL"></a>No. CL.</h2> + + +<p>A curious story of vicarious hanging is referred to, by several of the +earlier historians, of New England. The readers of Hudibras will remember +the following passage, Part ii. 407—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Justice gives sentence, many times,<br /> +On one man for another’s crimes.<br /> +Our brethren of New England use<br /> +Choice malefactors to excuse,<br /> +And hang the guiltless in their stead,<br /> +Of whom the churches have less need:<br /> +As lately ’t happen’d:—in a town<br /> +There liv’d a cobbler, and but one,<br /> +That out of doctrine could cut use,<br /> +And mend men’s lives, as well as shoes.<br /> +This precious brother having slain,<br /> +In times of peace, an Indian,<br /> +Not out of malice, but mere zeal,<br /> +Because he was an infidel;<br /> +The mighty Tottipottymoy<br /> +Sent to our ciders an envoy;<br /> +Complaining sorely of the breach<br /> +Of league, held forth by brother Patch,<br /> +Against the articles in force<br /> +Between both churches, his and ours,<br /> +For which he crav’d the saints to render<br /> +Into his hands, or hang th’ offender:<br /> +But they, maturely having weigh’d<br /> +They had no more but him o’ the trade,<br /> +A man that served them, in a double<br /> +Capacity, to teach and cobble,<br /> +Resolved to spare him; yet to do<br /> +The Indian Hoghan Moghan too<br /> +Impartial Justice, in his stead did<br /> +Hang an old weaver, that was bedrid.”</p> + +<p>This is not altogether the sheer <i>poetica licentia</i>, that common readers +may suppose it to be. Hubbard, Mass. Hist. Coll. xv. 77, gives the +following version, after having spoken of the theft—“the company, as some +report pretended, in way of satisfaction, to punish him, that did the +theft, but in his stead, hanged a poor, decrepit, old man, that was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_628" id="Page_628">[Pg 628]</a></span>unserviceable to the company, and burthensome to keep alive, which was +the ground of the story, with which the merry gentleman, that wrote the +poem, called Hudibras, did, in his poetical fancy, make so much sport. Yet +the inhabitants of Plymouth tell the story much otherwise, as if the +person hanged was really guilty of stealing, as may be were many of the +rest, and if they were driven by necessity to content the Indians, at that +time to do justice, there were some of Mr. Weston’s company living, it is +possible it might be executed not on him that most deserved, but on him +that could be best spared, or was not likely to live long, if let alone.”</p> + +<p>Morton published his English Canaan, in 1637, and relates the story Part +iii. ch. iv. p. 108, but he states, that it was a proposal only, which was +very well received, but being opposed by one person, “they hanged up the +real offender.”</p> + +<p>As the condemned draw nigh unto death—the scaffold—the gibbet—it would +be natural to suppose, that every avenue to the heart would be effectually +closed, against the entrance of all impressions, but those of terrible +solemnity; yet no common truth is more clearly established, than that +ill-timed levity, vanity, pride, and an almost inexplicable pleasure, +arising from a consciousness of being the observed of all observers, have +been exhibited, by men, on their way to the scaffold, and even with the +halter about their necks.</p> + +<p>The story is well worn out, of the wretched man, who, observing the crowd +eagerly rushing before him, on his way to the gallows, exclaimed, +“gentlemen, why so fast—there can be no sport, till I come!”</p> + +<p>In Jesse’s memoirs of George Selwyn, i. 345, it is stated, that John +Wisket, who committed a most atrocious burglary, in 1763, the evidence of +which was perfectly clear and conclusive, insisted upon wearing a large +white cockade, on the scaffold, as a token of his innocence, and was swung +off, bearing that significant appendage.</p> + +<p>In the same volume, page 117, it is said of the famous Lord Lovat, that, +in Scotland, a story is current, that, when upon his way to the Tower, +after his condemnation, an old woman thrust her head into the window of +the coach, which conveyed him, and exclaimed—“<i>You old rascal, I begin to +think you will be hung at last</i>.” To which he instantly replied—“<i>You old +b——h, I begin to think I shall</i>.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_629" id="Page_629">[Pg 629]</a></span>In Walpole’s letters to Mann, 163, a very interesting and curious account +may be found, of the execution of the Lords Kilmarnock, and Balmarino. +These Lords, with the Lord Cromartie, who was pardoned, were engaged, on +the side of the Pretender, in the rebellion of 1745. “Just before they +came out of the Tower, Lord Balmarino drank a bumper to King James’s +health. As the clock struck ten, they came forth, on foot, Lord Kilmarnock +all in black, his hair unpowdered, in a bag, supported by Forster, the +great Presbyterian, and by Mr. Home, a young clergyman, his friend. Lord +Balmarino followed, alone, in a blue coat, turned up with red, <i>his +rebellious regimentals</i>, a flannel waistcoat, and his shroud beneath, the +hearses following. They were conducted to a house near the scaffold; the +room forwards had benches for the spectators; in the second was Lord +Kilmarnock; and in the third backwards Lord Balmarino—all three chambers +hung with black. Here they parted! Balmarino embraced the other, and +said—‘My lord, I wish I could suffer for both.’”</p> + +<p>When Kilmarnock came to the scaffold, continues Walpole,—“He then took +off his bag, coat, and waistcoat, with great composure, and, after some +trouble, put on a napkin cap, and then several times tried the block, the +executioner, who was in white, with a white apron, out of tenderness +concealing the axe behind himself. At last the Earl knelt down, with a +visible unwillingness to depart, and, after five minutes, dropped his +handkerchief, the signal, and his head was cut off at once, only hanging +by a bit of skin, and was received in a scarlet cloth, by four +undertakers’ men kneeling, who wrapped it up, and put it into the coffin +with the body; orders having been given not to expose the heads, as used +to be the custom. The scaffold was immediately new strewed with sawdust, +the block new covered, the executioner new dressed, and a new axe brought. +Then came old Balmarino, treading with the air of a general. As soon as he +mounted the scaffold, he read the inscription on his coffin, as he did +again afterwards: he then surveyed the spectators, who were in amazing +numbers, even upon masts of ships in the river; and, pulling out his +spectacles, read a treasonable speech, which he delivered to the sheriff, +and said the young Pretender was so sweet a prince, that flesh and blood +could not resist following him; and, lying down to try the block, he +said—‘if I had a thousand lives I would lay them all down here in the +same cause.’ He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_630" id="Page_630">[Pg 630]</a></span> said, if he had not taken the sacrament the day before, +he would have knocked down Williamson, the Lieutenant of the Tower, for +his ill usage of him. He took the axe and felt of it, and asked the +headsman how many blows he had given Lord Kilmarnock, and gave him two +guineas. Then he went to the corner of the scaffold, and called very loud +to the Warder, to give him his periwig, which he took off, and put on a +night cap of Scotch plaid, and then pulled off his coat and waistcoat and +lay down; but being told he was on the wrong side, vaulted round, and +immediately gave the sign, by tossing up his arm, as if he were giving the +signal for battle. He received three blows, but the first certainly took +away sensation. As he was on his way to the place of execution, seeing +every window open, and the roofs covered with spectators—‘Look, look,’ he +cried, ‘see how they are piled up like rotten oranges!’”</p> + +<p>Following the English custom, the clergymen of Boston were in the habit, +formerly, of preaching to those, who were under sentence of death. I have +before me, while I write, the following manuscript memoranda of Dr. Andrew +Eliot—“1746, July 24. Thursday lecture preached by Dr. Sewall to three +poor malefactors, who were executed P. M.” “1747, Oct. 8. Went to Cambridge +to attend Eliza Wakefield, this day executed. Mr. Grady began with prayer. +Mr. Appleton preached and prayed.” There is a printed sermon, preached by +Dr. Andrew Eliot, on the Lords’ day before the execution of Levi Ames, who +was hung for burglary Oct. 21, 1773. Ames was present, and the sermon was +preached, by his particular request. The desire of distinction dies hard, +even in the hearts of malefactors.</p> + +<p>Dr. Andrew Eliot was a man of excellent sense, and disapproved of the +practice, then in vogue, of lionizing burglars and murderers, of which, +few, at the present day, I believe, have any just conception. For their +edification I subjoin a portion of a manuscript note, in the hand writing +of the late Dr. Ephraim Eliot, appended to the last page of the sermon, +delivered by his father. “Levi Ames was a noted offender—though a young +man, he had gone through all the routine of punishment; and there was now +another indictment against him, where there was positive proof, in +addition to his own confession. He was tried and condemned, for breaking +into the house of Martin Bicker, in Dock Square. His condemnation excited +extraordinary sympathy. <i>He was every Sabbath carried through the streets +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_631" id="Page_631">[Pg 631]</a></span> chains about his ankles and handcuffed, in custody of the Sheriff’s +officers and constables, to some public meeting, attended by an +innumerable company of boys, women and men.</i> Nothing was talked of but +Levi Ames. The ministers were successively employed in delivering +occasional discourses. Stillman improved the opportunity several times, +and absolutely persuaded the fellow, that he was to step from the cart +into Heaven.”</p> + +<p>It is quite surprising, that our fathers should have suffered this +interesting burglar—“<i>misguided</i>” of course—to be hung by the neck, till +he was dead. When an individual, as sanguine, as Dr. Stillman appears to +have been, in regard to Levi Ames, remarked of a notorious burglar, a few +days after his execution, that he had certainly been <i>born again</i>, an +incredulous bystander observed, that he was sorry to hear it, for some +dwelling-house or store would surely be broken open before morning.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLI" id="No_CLI"></a>No. CLI.</h2> + + +<p>We are sufficiently acquainted with the Catholic practice of roasting +heretics—that of boiling thieves and other offenders is less generally +known. <i>Caldariis decoquere</i>, to boil them in cauldrons, was a punishment, +inflicted in the middle ages, on thieves, false coiners, and others. In +1532, seventeen persons, in the family of the Bishop of Rochester, were +poisoned by Rouse, a cook; the offence was, in consequence, made treason, +by 23 Henry VIII., punishable, by boiling to death. Margaret Davie was +boiled to death, for the like crime, in 1541. Quite a number of Roman +ladies, in the year 331 B. C., formed a poisoning society, or club; and +adopted this quiet mode of divorcing themselves from their husbands: +seventy of the sisterhood were denounced, by a slave, to the consul, +Fabius Maximus, who ordered them to be executed. None of these ladies were +boiled.</p> + +<p>Boiling the dead has been very customary, after beheading or hanging, and +drawing, and quartering, whenever the criminal was sentenced to be hung +afterwards, in chains. Thus father Strype—“1554.—Sir Thomas Wyatt’s +fatal day was come, being the 11th of April, when, between nine and ten of +the clock, aforenoon, on Tower Hill, he was beheaded; and, by eleven of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_632" id="Page_632">[Pg 632]</a></span> +the clock, he was quartered on the scaffold, and his bowels and members +burnt beside the scaffold; and, a car and basket being at hand, the four +quarters and the head were put into the basket, and conveyed to Newgate, +to be parboiled.” One more quotation from Strype—“1557.—May 28th, was +Thomas Stafford beheaded on Tower Hill, by nine of the clock, Mr. Wode +being his ghostly father; and, after, three more, viz., Stowel, Proctor, +and Bradford were drawn from the Tower, through London, unto Tyburn, and +there hanged and quartered: and, the morrow after, was Stafford quartered, +and his quarters hanged on a car, and carried to Newgate to boil.”</p> + +<p>How very ingenious we have been, since the days of Cain, in torturing one +another! Boiling and roasting are not to be thought of. The Turkish +bowstring will never be adopted here, nor the Chinese drop, nor their mode +of capital punishment, in which the criminal, having been stripped naked, +is so confined, that he can scarcely move a muscle, and, being smeared +with honey, is exposed to myriads of insects, and thus left to perish. +Crucifixion will never be popular in Massachusetts, though quite common +among the Syrians, Egyptians, Persians, Africans, Greeks, Romans, and +Jews. Starving to death, sawing in twain, and rending asunder, by strong +horses, have all been tried, but are not much approved of, by the moderns. +The rack may answer well enough, in Catholic countries, but, in this +quarter, there is a strong prejudice against it. Exposure to wild beasts +is objectionable, for two reasons; one of these reasons resembles the +first of twenty-four, offered to the Queen of Hungary, for not ringing the +bells upon her arrival,—there were no bells in the village—we have no +wild beasts. The second reason is quite germain—man is savage enough, +without any foreign assistance. Burying alive, though it has been +employed, as a punishment, in other countries, is, literally, too much for +flesh and blood; and, I am happy to say, there is not a sexton in this +city, who would, knowingly, be a party to such a barbarous proceeding.</p> + +<p>Death has been produced, by preventing sleep, as a mode of punishment. +Impaling, and flaying alive, tearing to pieces with red hot pincers, +casting headlong from high rocks, eviscerating the bowels, firing the +criminals from the mouths of canons, and pressing them slowly to death, by +weights, gradually increased, upon the breast, the <i>peine forte et dure</i>, +are very much out of fashion; though one and all have been frequently +employed, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_633" id="Page_633">[Pg 633]</a></span> other times. There is a wheel of fashion, as well as a wheel +of fortune, in the course of whose revolutions, some of these obsolete +modes of capital punishment may come round again, like polygon porcelain, +and antiquated chair-backs. Should our legislature think proper to revive +the practice, in capital cases, of heading up the criminal in a barrel, +filled with nails, driven inward, a sort of inverted <i>cheval de frize</i>, +and rolling him down hill, I have often thought the more elevated corner +of our Common would be an admirable spot for the commencement of the +execution, were it not for interrupting the practice of coasting, during +the winter; by which several innocent persons, in no way parties to the +process, have been very nearly executed already.</p> + +<p>Shooting is apt to be performed, in a bungling manner. Hanging by the +heels, till the criminal is dead, is very objectionable, and requires too +much time. The mode adopted here and in England, and also in some other +countries, of hanging by the neck, is, in no respect agreeable, even if +the operator be a skilful man; and, if not, it is highly offensive. The +rope is sometimes too long, and the victim touches the ground—it is too +frail, and breaks, and the odious act must be performed again—or the +noose is unskilfully adjusted, the neck is not broken, and the struggles +are terrible.</p> + +<p>The sword, in a Turkish hand, performs the work well. It was used in +France. Charles Henry Sanson, the hereditary executioner, on the third of +March, 1792, presented a memorial to the Constituent Assembly, in which he +objected to decollation, and stated that he had but two swords; that they +became dull immediately; and were wholly insufficient, when there were +many to be executed, at one time. Monsieur Sanson knew nothing then of +that delightful instrument, which, not long afterward, became a mere +plaything, in his hands.</p> + +<p>Stoning to death and flaying alive have been employed, occasionally, since +the days of Stephen and Bartholomew. The axe, so much in vogue, formerly, +in England, was a ruffianly instrument, often mangling the victim, in a +horrible manner.</p> + +<p>After all, there is nothing like the guillotine; and, should it ever be +thought expedient to erect one here, I should recommend, for a location, +the knoll, near the fountain, on our Common, which would enable a very +large concourse of men, women, and children, to witness the performances +of both, at the same moment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_634" id="Page_634">[Pg 634]</a></span>The very best account of the guillotine, that I have ever met with, is +contained in the London Quarterly Review, vol. lxxiii. page 235. It is +commonly supposed, that this instrument was invented by Dr. Guillotin, +whose name it bears. It has been frequently asserted, that Dr. Guillotin +was one of the earliest, who fell victims to its terrible agency. It has +been still more generally believed, that this awfully efficient machine +was conceived in sin and begotten in iniquity, or in other words, that its +original contrivers were moved, by the spirit of cruelty. All these +conjectures are unfounded.</p> + +<p>The guillotine, before its employment, in France, was well known in +England, under the name of the Halifax gibbet. A copy of a print, by John +Doyle, bearing date 1650, and representing the instrument, may be found, +in the work, to which I have, just now, referred. Pennant, in his Tour, +vol. iii. page 365, affirms, that he saw one of the same kind, “in a room, +under the Parliament house, at Edinburgh, where it was introduced by the +Regent, Morton, who took a model of it, as he passed through Halifax, and, +at length, suffered by it, himself.”</p> + +<p>The writer in the London Quarterly, puts the question of invention at +rest, by exhibiting, on page 258, a copy of an engraving, by Henry +Aldgrave, bearing date 1553, representing the death of Titus Manlius, +under the operation of “an instrument, identical with the guillotine.”</p> + +<p>During the revolution, Dr. Guillotin was committed to prison, from which +he was released, after a tedious confinement. He died in his bed, at +Paris, an obscure and inoffensive, old man; deeply deploring, to the day +of his decease, the association of his name, with this terrible +instrument—an instrument, which he attempted to introduce, in good faith, +and with a merciful design, but which had been employed by the devils +incarnate of the revolution, for the purposes of reckless and +indiscriminating carnage.</p> + +<p>Dr. Guillotin was a weak, consequential, well-meaning man, willing to +mount any hobby, that would lift him from the ground. He is described, in +the <i>Portraits des Personnes célebres</i>, 1796, as a simple busybody, +meddling with everything, <i>à tort et à travers</i>, and being both +mischievous and ridiculous.</p> + +<p>He had sundry benevolent visions, in regard to capital punishment, and the +suppression, <i>by legal enactment</i>, of the <i>sentiment</i> of prejudice, +against the families of persons, executed for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_635" id="Page_635">[Pg 635]</a></span> crime! Among the members of +the faculty, in every large city, there are commonly two or three, at +least, exhibiting striking points of resemblance to Dr. Guillotin. In +urging the merits of this machine, upon merciful considerations, his +integrity was unimpeachable. He considered hanging a barbarous and cruel +punishment; and, by the zeal and simplicity of his arguments, produced, +even upon so grave a topic, universal laughter, in the constituent +assembly—having represented hanging, as a tedious and painful process, he +exclaimed, “Now, with my machine, <i>Je vous sauter le tête</i>, I strike off +your head, in the twinkling of an eye, and you never feel it.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLII" id="No_CLII"></a>No. CLII.</h2> + + +<p>The Sansons, hereditary executioners, in Paris, were gentlemen. In 1684, +Carlier, executioner of Paris, was dismissed. His successor was Charles +Sanson a lieutenant in the army, born in Abbeville, in Picardy, and a +relative of Nicholas Sanson, the celebrated geographer. Charles Sanson +married the daughter of the executioner of Normandy, and hence a long line +of illustrious executioners. Charles died in 1695; and was succeeded by +his son Charles.</p> + +<p>Charles Sanson, the second, was succeeded by his son, Charles John +Baptiste, who died Aug. 4, 1778, when his son Charles Henry was appointed +in his place; and, in 1795, retired on a pension. By his hand, with the +assistance of two of his brothers, the King, Louis XVI. was guillotined. +This Charles Henry had two sons. His eldest, the heir-apparent to the +guillotine, was killed, by a fall from the scaffold, while holding forth +the head of a man, executed for the forgery of assignats. Henry, the +younger son of Charles Henry, therefore became his successor, at the time +of his retirement, in 1795. To fill this office, he gave up his military +rank, as captain of artillery. He died Aug. 18, 1840. He was an elector, +and had a taste for music and literature. He was succeeded by his son, +Henry Clement, Dec. 1, 1840. These particulars will be found on page 27 of +<i>Recherches Historiques et Physiologiques, sur la Guillotine, &c.</i>, par M. +Louis du Bois. Paris, 1843. Monsieur du Bois informs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_636" id="Page_636">[Pg 636]</a></span> us, that all these +Sansons were very worthy men, and that the present official possesses a +fine figure, features stamped with nobility, and an expression sweet and +attractive. How very little all this quadrates with our popular +impressions of the common hangman!</p> + +<p>The objection to the guillotine, which was called, for a time, <i>Louison</i>, +after M. Louis, Secretary of the College of Surgeons, that it would make +men familiar with the sight of blood, was urged by the Abbé Maury, and +afterwards, by A. M. La Cheze. The Duke de Liancourt, inclined to <i>mercy</i>, +that is, to the employment of the guillotine. He contended, that it was +necessary to efface all recollections of hanging, which, he gravely +remarked, had recently been so <i>irregularly applied</i>, referring to the +summary process of lynching, as we term it—<i>à la lanterne</i>.</p> + +<p>It is curious to note the doubt and apprehension, which existed, as to the +result of the first experiment of decollation. March 3, 1792, the +minister, Duport du Tertre, writes thus to the Legislative Assembly—“It +appears, by the communications, made to me, by the executioners +themselves, that, without some precautions, the act of decollation will be +horrible to the spectators. It will either prove them to be monsters, if +they are able to bear such a spectacle; or the executioner, himself, +alarmed, will fall before the wrath of the people.”</p> + +<p>The matter being referred to Louis, then Secretary of the Academy of +Surgeons, he made his report, March 7, 1792. The new law required, that +the criminal should be decapitated—<i>aura la tête tranchée</i>; and that the +punishment should be inflicted <i>without torture</i>. Louis shows how +difficult the execution of such a law must be—“We should recollect,” says +he, “the occurrences at M. de Lally’s execution. He was upon his knees, +with his eyes covered—the executioner struck him, on the back of his +neck—the blow was insufficient. He fell upon his face, and three or four +cuts of the sabre severed the head. Such <i>hacherie</i> excited a feeling of +horror.” To such a polite and gentle nation, this must have been highly +offensive.</p> + +<p>April 25, 1798. Rœderer, Procureur Genéral, wrote a letter to +Lafayette, telling him, that a public trial of the new instrument would +take place, that day, in the <i>Place de Grève</i>, and would, doubtless, draw +a great crowd, and begging him not to withdraw the gens d’armes, till the +apparatus had been removed. In the Courrier Extraordinaire, of April 27, +1792, is the following notice—“They made yesterday (meaning the 25th) the +first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_637" id="Page_637">[Pg 637]</a></span> trial of the <i>little Louison</i>, and cut off a head, one Pelletier. I +never in my life could bear to see a man hanged; but I own I feel a +greater aversion to this species of execution. The preparations make me +shudder, and increase the moral suffering. The people seemed to wish, that +M. Sanson had his old gallows.”</p> + +<p>After the <i>Louison</i>, or guillotine, had been in operation rather more than +a year, the following interesting letter was sent, by the Procureur +Genéral, Rœderer, to citizen Guideu. “13 May, 1793. I enclose, citizen, +the copy of a letter from citizen Chaumette, solicitor to the commune of +Paris, by which you will perceive, that complaints are made, that, after +these public executions, the blood of the criminals remains in pools, upon +the <i>Place de Grève</i>, that dogs came to drink it, and that crowds of men +feed their eyes with this spectacle, which naturally instigates their +hearts to ferocity and blood. I request you therefore to take the earliest +and most convenient opportunity, to remove from the eyes of men a sight so +afflicting to humanity.”</p> + +<p>Voltaire, who thought very gravely, before he delivered the sentiment to +the world, has stated of his countrymen, that they were a mixture of the +monkey and the tiger. Undoubtedly he knew. In the revolution of 1793, and +in every other, that has occurred in France—those excepted which may have +taken place, since the arrival of the last steamer—the tiger has had the +upper hand. Prudhomme, the prince of pamphleteers, having published +fifteen hundred, on political subjects, and author of the General History +of the crimes, committed, during the revolution, writing of the execution +of Louis XVI. remarks—“Some individuals steeped their handkerchiefs in +his blood. A number of armed volunteers crowded also to dip in the blood +of the despot their pikes, their bayonets, and their sabres. Several +officers of the Marseillais battalion, and others, dipped the covers of +letters in this impure blood, and carried them, on the points of their +swords, at the head of their companies, exclaiming ‘this is the blood of a +tyrant.’ One citizen got up to the guillotine itself, and plunging his +whole arm into the blood of Capet, of which a great quantity remained; he +took up handsful of the clotted gore, and sprinkled it over the crowd +below, which pressed round the scaffold, each anxious to receive a drop on +his forehead. ‘Friends,’ said this citizen in sprinkling them, ‘we were +threatened, that the blood of Louis should be on our heads, and so you see +it is.’” Rev. de Paris, No. 185, p. 205.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_638" id="Page_638">[Pg 638]</a></span>Upon the earnest request of the inhabitants of several streets, through +which the gangs of criminals were carried, the guillotine was removed, +June 8, 1794, from the <i>Place de la Revolution</i> to the <i>Place St. +Antoine</i>, in front of the ruins of the Bastile; where it remained five +days only, during which time, it took off ninety-six heads. The proximity +of this terrible revolutionary plaything annoyed the shopkeepers. The +purchasers of finery were too forcibly reminded of the uncertainty of +life, and the brief occasion they might have, for all such things, +especially for neckerchiefs and collars. Once again then, the guillotine, +after five days’ labor, was removed; and took its station still farther +off, at the <i>Barrière du Trône</i>. There it stood, from June 9 till the +overthrow of Robespierre, July 27, 1794: and, during those forty-nine +days, twelve hundred and seventy heads dropped into its voracious basket. +July 28, it was returned to the <i>Place de la Revolution</i>.</p> + +<p>Sanson, Charles Henry, the executioner of Louis XVI. had not a little +<i>bonhomie</i> in his composition—his infernal profession seems not to have +completely ossified his heart. He reminds me, not a little, of Sir Thomas +Erpingham, who, George Colman, the younger, says, carried on his wars, in +France, in a benevolent spirit, and went about, I suppose, like dear, old +General Taylor, in Mexico, “pitying and killing.” On the day, when +Robespierre fell, forty-nine victims were ascending the carts, to proceed +to the guillotine, about three in the afternoon. Sanson, at the moment, +met that incomparable bloodhound, the <i>Accusateur Public</i>, Fouquier de +Tinville, going to dinner. Sanson suggested the propriety of delaying the +execution, as a new order of things might cause the lives of the condemned +to be spared. Fouquier briefly replied, “the law must take its course;” +and went to dine—the forty-nine to die; and, shortly after, their fate +was his.</p> + +<p>The guillotine, viewed as an instrument of justice, in cases of execution, +for capital offences, is certainly a most merciful contrivance, liable, +undoubtedly, during a period of intense excitement, to be converted into a +terrible toy.</p> + +<p>During the reign of terror, matters of extreme insignificancy, brought +men, women, and children to the guillotine. The record is, occasionally, +awfully ridiculous. A few examples may suffice—Jean Julian, wagoner, +sentenced to twelve years’ imprisonment, took it into his head, on the +way—<i>s’avisa</i>—to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_639" id="Page_639">[Pg 639]</a></span>cry—<i>Vive +le Roi</i>; executed September, 1792.—Jean Baptiste Henry sawed a tree of liberty; executed Sept. 6, 1793.—M. +Baulny, ex-noble, assisted his son to emigrate; executed Jan. 31, +1794.—La veuve Marbeuf <i>hoped</i> the Austrians would come; executed Feb. 5, +1794.—Francis Bertrand, publican, sold sour wine; executed May 15, +1793.—Marie Angelique Plaisant, sempstress, exclaimed—“a fig for the +nation;” executed July 19, 1794.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLIII" id="No_CLIII"></a>No. CLIII.</h2> + + +<p>An interesting, physiological question arose, in 1796, whether death, by +decollation, under the guillotine, were instantaneous or not. Men of +science and talent, and among them Dr. Sue, and a number of German +physicians, maintained, that, in the brain, after decapitation, there was +a certain degree—<i>un reste</i>—of thought, and, in the nerves, a measure of +sensibility. An opposite opinion seems to have prevailed. The controversy, +which was extremely interesting, acquired additional interest and +activity, from an incident, which occurred, on the scaffold, immediately +after the execution of Marie Anne Charlotte de Corday d’Armont—commonly +known, under the imperishable name of <i>Charlotte Corday</i>. A brute, +François Le Gros, one of the assistant executioners, held up the beautiful +and bleeding head, and slapped the cheek with his hand. A blush was +instantly visible to the spectators. In connection with the physiological +question, to which I have referred, a careful inquiry was instituted, and +it was proved, very satisfactorily, that the color—the blush—appeared on +<i>both</i> cheeks, after the blow was given. Dr. Sue’s account of this matter +runs thus—“The countenance of Charlotte Corday expressed the most +unequivocal marks of indignation. Let us look back to the facts—the +executioner held the head, suspended in one hand; the face was then pale, +but had no sooner received the slap, which the sanguinary wretch +inflicted, than both cheeks visibly reddened. Every spectator was struck, +by the change of color, and with loud murmurs cried out for vengeance, on +this cowardly and atrocious barbarity. It can not be said, that the +redness was caused by the blow—for we all know, that no blows will recall +anything like color to the cheeks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_640" id="Page_640">[Pg 640]</a></span> of a corpse; besides this blow was +given on one cheek, and the other equally reddened.” <i>Sue; Opinion sur le +supplice de la guillotine, p. 9.</i></p> + +<p>Sir Thomas Browne, in his Religio Medici, remarked, that he had never +known a religion, in which there were impossibilities enough to give full +exercise to an active faith. This remark greatly delighted Sir Kenelm +Digby, who was an ultra Catholic. The faith of Browne, in regard to things +spiritual, was not an overmatch for his credulity, in regard to things +temporal, which is the more remarkable, as he gave so much time to his +Pseudodoxia, or exposition of vulgar errors? He was a believer in the +existence of invisible beings, holding rank between men and angels—in +apparitions; and affirmed, <i>from his own knowledge</i>, the certainty of +witchcraft. Hutchinson, in his essay on witchcraft, repeats the testimony +of Dr. Browne, in the case of Amy Duny and Rose Cullender, who were tried, +before Sir Matthew Hale, in 1664; and executed, at St. Edmunds Bury, as +witches. Sir Thomas stated in court, “<i>that the fits were natural, but +heightened, by the devil’s coöperating with the malice of the witches, at +whose instance he did the villanies</i>.” He added that “a great discovery +had lately been made, in Denmark, of witches, who used the very same way +of afflicting persons, by conveying pins into them.” Now it would be +curious to know what Sir Thomas thought of the famous and apposite story +of Sir Everard Digby, the father of Sir Kenelm, and if the faith of Sir +Thomas were strong enough, to credit that extraordinary tale.</p> + +<p>Charlotte Corday was <i>beheaded</i>, and Sir Everard Digby was <i>hanged</i>. The +difference must be borne in mind, while considering this interesting +subject. Sir Everard, who was an amiable young man, was led astray, and +executed Jan. 30, 1606, for the part he bore, in the gunpowder plot. Wood, +in his “Athenæ Oxonienses,” vol. iii. p. 693, Lond. 1817, has the following +passage—“Sir Everard Digby, father to Sir Kenelme, was a goodly +gentleman, and the handsomest man of his time, but much pitied, for that +it was his ill fate to suffer for the powder plot, in 1605, aged 24, at +which time, when the executioner pluck’d out the heart, when the body was +to be quartered, and, according to the manner, held it up, saying, <i>here +is the heart of a traytor</i>, Sir Everard made answer, <i>thou liest</i>. This a +most famous author mentions, but tells us not his name, in his <i>Historia +Vitæ et<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_641" id="Page_641">[Pg 641]</a></span> Mortis</i>.” This most famous author is Lord Bacon—Hist. Vit. et +Mort., vol. viii. p. 446, Lond. 1824. The passage is so curious, that I +give it entire—“Anguillæ, serpentes et insecta diu moventur singulis +partibus, post concisionem. Etiam aves, capitibus avulsis, ad tempus +subsultant: quin et corda animalium avulsa diu palpitant. Equidem +meminimus ipsi vidisse hominis cor, qui evisceratus erat (supplicii genere +apud nos versus proditores recepto) quod in ignem, de more, injectum, +saltabat in altum, primo ad sesquipedem, et deinde gradatim ad minus; +durante spatio (ut meminimus) septem aut octo minutarum. Etiam vetus et +fide digna traditio est, de bove sub evisceratione mugiente. At magis +certa de homine, qui co supplicii genere (quod diximus) evisceratus, +postquam cor avulsum penitus esset, et in carnificis manu, tria aut +quatuor verba precum auditus est proferre”—which may be Englished +thus—Snakes, serpents, and insects move, a long time, after they have +been cut into parts. Birds also hop about, for a time, after their heads +have been wrung off. Even the hearts of animals, after they have been torn +out, continue long to palpitate. Indeed, we ourselves remember to have +seen the heart of a man, who had been drawn, or eviscerated, in that kind +of punishment, which we employ against traitors, and which, when cast upon +the fire, according to custom, leapt on high, at first, a foot and a half, +and gradually less and less, during the space, if we justly remember, of +seven or eight minutes. There is also an ancient tradition, well entitled +to credit, of a cow, that bellowed, under the process of evisceration. And +more certain is the story of the man, who was eviscerated, according to +the mode of punishment we have referred to, who, when his heart was +actually torn out, and in the hands of the executioner, was heard to utter +three or four words of imprecation. Sir Everard was executed, as I have +stated, in 1605. Lord Bacon was born Jan. 22, 1561, and died April 9, +1626, twenty-one years only after Digby’s execution, and at the age of 65. +Lord Bacon was therefore 44 years old, when Digby’s execution took place, +which fact has some bearing upon the authenticity of this extraordinary +story. Lord Bacon speaks confidently of the fact; and his suppression of +the name was very natural, as the family of Sir Everard were then upon the +stage.</p> + +<p>A writer in the London Quarterly Review remarks, in a note on page 274, +vol. 73, comparing the case of Charlotte Corday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_642" id="Page_642">[Pg 642]</a></span> with that of Sir Everard +Digby—“This” (Sir Everard’s) “was a case of <i>evisceration</i>, and not of +<i>decapitation</i>, which makes the whole difference, as to the credibility of +the story.”</p> + +<p>Chalmers relates the anecdote, and refers to Wood’s Athenæ, and Lord +Bacon’s Historia Vitæ et Mortis, but speaks of the tale, as “<i>a story, +which will scarcely now obtain belief</i>.” In the Harleian Miscellany, vol. +iii. page 5, Lond. 1809, there is an account of the discovery of the +gunpowder plot, imprinted at London, by Robert Barker, 1605. On page 47, a +very brief cotemporaneous account is given of Digby’s execution, in St. +Paul’s churchyard, which contains no allusion whatever to the +circumstance, stated by Wood, and so very confidently, by Lord Bacon.</p> + +<p>I suppose few will really believe, that any man’s conversational abilities +can be worth much, after his head is off, or his heart is out. From the +expression of the Quarterly reviewer, it may be inferred, that he did not +consider the story of Sir Everard Digby utterly impossible and incredible. +For my own part, I am very much inclined to hand over this extraordinary +legend to Judæus Appella. Every man, who has not, by long experience, like +George Selwyn, acquired great self-possession, while enjoying an +execution, inclines to the marvellous. Sir Everard, before the work of +evisceration began, it must be remembered, had been hanged, the usual +length of time; and the words—“<i>thou liest</i>”—are stated to have been +uttered, at the moment, when the heart, having been plucked out, was held +up by the executioner. It is more easy of belief, that some guttural +noise, like that, spasmodically uttered by certain birds, after their +heads have been chopped off, may have sounded to the gaping bystanders, +who looked and listened, <i>auribus arrectis</i>, not very unlike the words in +question. The belief, that Digby spoke these words, seems to be analogous +to the belief, that, in <i>hydrophobia</i>, the sufferers bark like dogs, +simply because, oppressed with phlegm, and nearly strangled, their +terrific efforts, to clear the breathing passages, are accompanied with a +variety of unintelligible, and horrible sounds.</p> + +<p>There are some curious cases, on record, which may have something to do +with our reasoning, upon this subject. A similar species of death, +attended by spasms or convulsions, is said to have been produced, by the +bite of other animals. Dr. Fothergill relates cases of death, from the +bite of a cat. Thiermayer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_643" id="Page_643">[Pg 643]</a></span> recites two cases, both terminating fatally, +from the bite of a goose, and a hen. Le Cat, Receuil Periodique, ii. page +90, presents a similar case, from the bite of a duck. But we are not +informed, that, the patient, in either of these cases, during the spasms, +mewed, quacked, cackled, or hissed; and yet there seems to be no rational +apology for a patient’s <i>barking</i>, simply because he has been bitten, by a +cat, or a duck, a goose, or a hen.</p> + +<p>Spasmodic or convulsive motion, in a human body, which has been hung, or +shot, or eviscerated, is a very different thing, from an intelligent +exercise of the will, over the organs of speech, producing the utterance +even of a word or syllable.</p> + +<p>In the cases of persons, who have been shot through the heart, violent +spasmodic action is no unusual phenomenon. When I was a boy, the duel took +place, between Rand and Millar, at Dorchester Point, then a locality as +solitary, as Hoboken, or the Hebrides. The movements of the parties were +observed, and their purposes readily surmised, by the officers, on Castle +William; and a barge was immediately despatched, from the fort. Shots were +exchanged, between the combatants, while the barge was passing over. Rand +fell, wounded through the heart; and, after lying motionless, for a very +brief space, was seen to leap into the air several feet, and fall again, +upon the earth.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLIV" id="No_CLIV"></a>No. CLIV.</h2> + + +<p>We are living and learning, forever. Life is a court of cassation, where +truth sits, as chancellor, daily reversing the most incomparably beautiful +decrees of theoretical philosophy.</p> + +<p>It is not unlikely, that a very interesting volume of 600 pages, folio, +might be prepared, to be called the <i>Mistakes of Science</i>. The elephant in +the moon, and the weighing of the fish have furnished amusement, in their +day. Even in our own times, philosophers, of considerable note, have +seriously <i>doubted</i> the truth of that incomparable hoax, concerning Sir +John Herschell’s lunar discoveries.</p> + +<p>Savans were completely deceived, for a considerable period, by the +electrical beatifications of Mr. Bose. One of the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_644" id="Page_644">[Pg 644]</a></span> amusing +occurrences, upon record, on which occasion, the philosopher, unlike Mr. +Bose, was a perfectly honest man, befell the famous mathematical +instrument-maker, Mr. Troughton. He became fully possessed, by the idea, +that certain persons, a select few, were capable of exerting a magnetic +influence, over the needle, by advancing their faces towards it. So far +from being common, this power was limited to a very small number. The +statements of Mr. Troughton, and his well-established reputation, for +integrity, caused the subject to be gravely discussed, by members of the +Royal Society.</p> + +<p>Every individual of the very small number, who possessed this remarkable +power—every <i>medium</i>—was carefully examined. Collusion seemed utterly + +impossible. A new theory appeared to be established. Amazement ran through +the learned assembly. A careful inquiry was instituted, in relation to the +manner of life of these <i>mediums</i>, from their youth upwards, their +occupations, diet, &c., and some very learned papers would, erelong, have +been read, before the Royal Society, if Mr. Troughton himself had not +previously made a most fortunate discovery—he discovered, that he wore a +wig, constructed with <i>steel</i> springs—such, also, was the case with every +other <i>medium</i>!</p> + +<p>The tendency to predicate certainty, of things, manifestly doubtful, is +exceedingly common. I fell, recently, into the society of some very +intelligent gentlemen, who were <i>certain</i>, that Sir John Franklin was +lost, irrecoverably lost.</p> + +<p>There are some—perhaps their name is not Legion—whose faith is of +superior dimensions to the mustard seed, and who believe, that Sir John +Franklin is not destroyed; that he yet lives; and, that, sooner or later, +he will come back to his friends and the world, with a world of wonders to +relate, of all that he has seen and suffered. God, all merciful, grant it +may be so. To all human observation, after a careful balancing of +probabilities, there is certainly nothing particularly flattering in the +prospect. Yet, on the other hand, absolute, unqualified despair is +irrational, and unjustifiable.</p> + +<p>The present existence of Sir John Franklin is certainly <i>possible</i>. No +one, I presume, will say it is <i>probable</i>. Some half a dozen good, +substantial words are greatly needed, to mark shades between these two, +and to designate what is more than <i>possible</i>, and less than <i>probable</i>.</p> + +<p>A careful consideration of the narrative of Sir John Ross, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_645" id="Page_645">[Pg 645]</a></span> narrative, +I mean, of his second voyage, in quest of a northwest passage, and of his +abode in the Arctic regions, and of the opinion, very generally +entertained, for a great length of time, that he was lost, will strengthen +the impression, that Sir John Franklin also may be yet alive, <i>somewhere</i>! +Even then, a question may arise, in connection with the force of certain +currents, referred to, by those, who have lately returned, from an +unsuccessful search for Sir John Franklin, whether it may be possible to +return, against those currents, with such means and appliances, as he +possessed; and whether, even on this side the grave, there may not be a +bourne, from which no presumptuous voyager ever shall return.</p> + +<p>The residence of Sir John Ross, in the Arctic regions, continued, through +five consecutive years, 1829, ’30, ’31, ’32, ’33. To such, as imagine there +is any effective summer, in those regions, and who have been accustomed to +associate spring and summer, with flowers and fruits, it may not be amiss, +by way of corrective, to administer a brief passage, from the journal of +Sir John Ross, in August, 1832—“But to see, to have seen, ice and snow, +to have felt snow and ice forever, and nothing forever but snow and ice, +during all the months of a year; to have seen and felt but uninterrupted +and unceasing ice and snow, during all the months of four years, this it +is, that has made the sight of those most chilling and wearisome objects +an evil, which is still one in recollection, as if the remembrance would +never cease.”</p> + +<p>At this period, August, 1832, very little hope was entertained, that Sir +John Ross and his companions were living. Even a year before, they were +generally supposed to be lost.</p> + +<p>The abandonment of their ship, which had been locked fast in the ice, for +years, and their almost inconceivable toil, while crossing, with their +boats, on sledges, to the confluence of Regent’s Inlet, and Barrow’s +Strait, are fully presented in the narrative. Their hour of deliverance +came at last, and the event cannot be better described, than in the words +of Sir John Ross himself. As they were standing along the southern shore +of Harrow’s Strait, in their boats, on the 26th of August, a sail, to +their inexpressible joy, hove in sight. After a period of great anxiety, +lest she should not observe their signals of distress, their deep delight +may be imagined, even by an unpractised landsman, when they first became +assured, that they had attracted the notice of the crew, in one of the +ship’s boats. The reader<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_646" id="Page_646">[Pg 646]</a></span> will be better satisfied with an account from +the lips of the πολυτροπος ὀς +μαλλα πολλα, himself.</p> + +<p>“She was soon along side, when the mate in command addressed us, by +presuming, that we had met with some misfortune and lost our ship. This +being answered in the affirmative, I requested to know the name of his +vessel, and expressed our wish to be taken on board. I was answered, that +it was the ‘Isabella, of Hull, once commanded by Captain Ross;’ on which I +stated, that I was the identical man in question, and my people the crew +of the Victory. That the mate, who commanded this boat, was as much +astonished, as he appeared to be, I do not doubt; while, with the usual +blunderheadedness of men, on such occasions, he assured me, that I had +been dead two years. I easily convinced him, however, that what ought to +have been true, according to his estimate, was a somewhat premature +conclusion; as the bear-like form of the whole set of us, might have shown +him, had he taken time to consider, that we were certainly not whaling +gentlemen, and that we carried tolerable evidence of our being ‘true men +and no imposters,’ on our backs, and in our starved and unshaven +countenances.”</p> + +<p>However close the resemblance, between Sir John Ross and his comrades to +<i>bears</i>, they soon become <i>lions</i> on board the Isabella. Sir John +continues thus—</p> + +<p>“A hearty congratulation followed, of course, in the true seaman style, +and, after a few natural inquiries, he added, that the Isabella was +commanded by Captain Humphreys; when he immediately went off in his boat +to communicate his information on board; repeating, that we had long been +given up as lost, not by them alone, but by all England.”</p> + +<p>In this precedent, there is kindling stuff for hope, if not substantial +fuel. After reading this account, the hearts of the strong-hearted cannot +fail to be strengthened the more. A scientific and elaborate comparison of +all the facts and circumstances, in the respective cases of Ross and +Franklin, may lead to dissipate our hope. But hope is a vivacious +principle, like the polypus, from the minutest particle remaining, growing +up to be the integral thing, that it was. Science, philosophy, perched +upon theoretical stilts, occasionally walk confidently into the mire. Sir +John Franklin may yet be among the living, notwithstanding those negative +demonstrations, in which many so very plausibly indulge themselves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_647" id="Page_647">[Pg 647]</a></span>Let us follow Sir John Ross and his companions on board the Isabella.—“As +we approached slowly after him (the mate of the Isabella) he jumped up the +side, and, in a minute, the rigging was manned; while we were saluted with +three cheers, as we came within cable’s length, and were not long in +getting on board my old vessel, where we were all received, by Captain +Humphreys, with a hearty seaman’s welcome. Though we had not been +supported by our names and characters, we should not the less have +claimed, from charity, the attentions we received; for never was seen a +more miserable looking set of wretches. If to be poor, wretchedly poor, as +far as all our present property was concerned, were to have a claim on +charity, none could well deserve it more; but, if to look so, be to +frighten away the so called charitable, no beggar, that wanders in +Ireland, could have outdone us, in exciting the repugnance of those, who +know not what poverty can be. Unshaven, since I know not when, dirty, +dressed in the rags of wild beasts, instead of the tatters of +civilization, and starved to the very bones, our gaunt and grim looks, +when contrasted with those of the well dressed and well fed men around us, +made us all feel, I believe, for the first time, what we really were, as +well as what we seemed to others.”</p> + +<p>Very considerable training must, doubtless, be required, to reconcile a +Mohawk Indian to a feather bed. A short passage from the Journal of Sir +John Ross forcibly illustrates the truth, that we are the creatures of +habit. “Long accustomed, however, to a cold bed, on the hard snow or the +bare rock, few could sleep, amid the comforts of our new accommodations. I +was myself compelled to leave the bed, which had been kindly assigned me, +and take my abode in a chair for the night, nor did it fare much better +with the rest. It was for time to reconcile us to this sudden and violent +change, to break through what had become habit, and to inure us, once +more, to the usages of our former days.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLV" id="No_CLV"></a>No. CLV.</h2> + + +<p>Good, old Sir William Dugdale was certainly the prince of antiquaries. His +labors and their products were greater, than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_648" id="Page_648">[Pg 648]</a></span> could have been anticipated, +even from his long and ever busy life. He was born, Sept. 12, 1605, and +died, in his eighty-first year, while sitting quietly, in his antiquarian +chair, Feb. 6, 1686.</p> + +<p>It seemed not to have occurred, so impressively, to other men, how very +important was the diligent study of ancient wills, not only to the +antiquarian, but to the historian, of any age or nation. Dugdale’s +annotations, upon the royal and noble wills of England, are eminently +useful and curious. A collection of “royal wills” was published, by Mr. +John Nicholls, the historian of Leicestershire, and the “Testamenta +Vetusta,” by Mr. Nicolas. These works are in very few hands, and some of +them almost as rarely to be met with, as those of Du Cange, Charpentiere, +Spelman, or Lacombe.</p> + +<p>There is no small amount of information and amusement, to be gathered from +these ancient declarations of the purposes of men, contemplating death, at +a distance, or about to die; though it cannot be denied, that the wills of +our immediate ancestors, especially, if they have amassed great wealth, +and, after a few unimportant legacies to others, have made us their +residuary legatees, furnish a far more interesting species of reading, to +the rising generation.</p> + +<p>There are worthy persons, who entertain a superstitious horror, upon the +subject of making a will: they seem to have an actual fear, that the +execution of a will is very much in the nature of a dying speech; that it +is an expression of their willingness to go; and that the King of Terrors +may possibly take them, at their word.</p> + +<p>There are others, who are so far from being oppressed, by any +apprehension, of this nature, that one of their most common amusements +consists in the making, and mending of their wills.</p> + +<p>“Who,” says the compiler of the Testamenta Vetusta, “would have the +hardihood to stain with those evil passions, which actuate mankind, in +this world, that deed, which cannot take effect, until he is before the +Supreme Judge, and consequently immediately responsible for his conduct?” +To this grave inquiry I, unhesitatingly answer—<i>thousands</i>! The secret +motives of men, upon such occasions, if fairly brought to light, would +present a very curious record. That record would, by no means, sustain the +sentiment, implied, in the preceding interrogatory. Malice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_649" id="Page_649">[Pg 649]</a></span> and caprice, +notoriously, have governed the testator’s pen, upon numberless occasions. +The old phrase—<i>cutting off with a shilling</i>—has been reduced to +practice, in a multitude of instances, for considerations of mere hatred +and revenge, or of pique and displeasure. The malevolent testator, who +would be heartily ashamed, to avow what he had done, on this side the +grave, is regardless of his reputation, on the other.</p> + +<p>Goldsmith places in the mouth of one of his characters, a declaration, +that he was disinherited, for liking gravy. This, however it may have been +intended as a pleasantry, by the author, is, by no means, beyond the +region of probability. Considerations, equally absurd and frivolous, have, +occasionally, operated upon the minds of passionate and capricious people, +especially in the decline of life; and, though they are sensible of the +Bible truth, that they can carry nothing with them, they may, yet a little +while, enjoy the prospective disappointment of another.</p> + +<p>The Testamenta Vetusta contain abstracts of numerous wills of the English +kings, and of the nobility, and gentry, for several centuries, from the +time of Henry second, who began to reign, in 1154. The work, as I have +stated, is rare; and I am mistaken, if the general reader, any more than +he, who has an antiquarian diathesis, will complain of the exhumation I +propose to make of some, among the “reliques of thae antient dayes.”</p> + +<p>It is almost impossible, to glance over one of these venerable testaments +of the old English nobility, without perceiving, that the testator’s +thoughts were pretty equally divided, between beds, masses, and wax +tapers. Beds, with the gorgeous trappings, appurtenant thereto, form a +common subject of bequest, and of entailment, as heir-looms.</p> + +<p>Edward, the Black Prince, son of Edward III., died June 8, 1376. In his +will, dated the day before his death, he bequeaths “To our son Richard,<a name='fna_6' id='fna_6' href='#f_6'><small>[6]</small></a> +the bed, which the King our father gave us. To Sir Roger de Clarendon,<a name='fna_7' id='fna_7' href='#f_7'><small>[7]</small></a> +a silk bed. To Sir Robert de Walsham, our confessor, a large bed of red +camora, with our arms embroidered at each corner; also embroidered with +the arms of Hereford. To Monsr. Allayne Cheyne our bed of camora, powdered +with blue eagles. And we bequeath all our goods and chattels, jewels, &c., +for the payment of our funeral and debts; after which we will, that our +executors pay certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_650" id="Page_650">[Pg 650]</a></span> legacies to our poor servants. All annuities, which +we have given to our Knights, Esquires, and other, our followers, we +desire to be fully paid. And we charge our son Richard, on our blessing, +that he fulfil our bequests to them. And we appoint our very dear and +beloved brother of Spain, Duke of Lancaster,<a name='fna_8' id='fna_8' href='#f_8'><small>[8]</small></a> &c., &c., executors,” &c.</p> + +<p>Joan, Princess of Wales, was daughter of Edmund Plantagenet. From her +extreme beauty, she was styled the “<i>Fair Maid of Kent</i>.” I find the +following record in regard to Joan—“She entered into a contract of +marriage with Thomas Montacute, Earl of Salisbury; but Sir Thomas Holland, +H. G., on a petition to Pope Clement VI. alleged a precontract, <i>consensus +et concubitus</i>, but that, he being abroad, the Earl of Salisbury unjustly +kept her from him; and his Holiness gave her to Sir Thomas.”</p> + +<p>Joan seems to have been a wilful body, and the reader may like to know +what sort of a will she made, four hundred and sixty-six years ago. She +finally became the wife of Edward, the Black Prince, and, by him, the +mother of Richard II. An abstract of her will runs thus—“In the year of +our Lord, 1385, and of the reign of my dear son, Richard, King of England +and France, the 9th at my castle of Walyngford, in the Diocese of +Salisbury, the 7th of August, I, Joan, Princess of Wales, Duchess of +Cornwall, Countess of Chester, and Lady Wake. My body to be buried, in my +chapel, at Stanford, near the monument of our late lord and father, the +Earl of Kent. To my dear son, the King, my new bed of red velvet, +embroidered with ostrich feathers of silver, and heads of leopards of +gold, with boughs and leaves issuing out of their mouths. To my dear son, +Thomas, Earl of Kent, my bed of red camak, paied with red and rays of +gold. To my dear son, John Holland, a bed of red camak.”</p> + +<p>Katherine of Arragon wills, <i>inter alia</i>—“I supplicate, that my body be +buried in a convent of Observant Friars. Item, that for my soul be said C. +masses. Item, that some personage go to our Lady of Walsingham, in +pilgrimage, and in going by the way, dole XX nobles. Item, I ordain that +the collar of gold, that I brought out of Spain be to my daughter. * * * +Item, if it may please the King, my good Lord, that the house ornaments of +the church be made of my gowns, which he holdeth, for to serve the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_651" id="Page_651">[Pg 651]</a></span> +convent thereat I shall be buried. And the furs of the same I give for my +daughter.”</p> + +<p>William de Longspee, Earl of Salisbury, was a natural son of Henry II., by +Fair Rosamond, daughter of Walter de Clifford, and distinguished himself +in the Holy Land. He bequeaths to the Monastery of the Carthusians—“A cup +of gold, set with emeralds and rubies; also a pix of gold with XLII. s. +and two goblets of silver, one of which is gilt; likewise a chesible and +cope of red silk; a tunicle and dalmatick of yellow cendal; an alba, +amice, and stole; also a favon and towel, and all my reliques; likewise a +thousand sheep, three hundred muttons, forty-eight oxen, and fifteen +bulls.”</p> + +<p>It was not unusual, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, to +dedicate children, at the hour of their baptism, to the <i>military</i> service +of <i>God</i>, in Palestine. An example of this may be found, in the will of +William de Beauchamp, who was the father of the first Earl of Warwick, and +died before 1269—“My body to be buried in the Church of Friars Minors at +Worcester. I will, that a horse, completely harnessed with all military +caparisons, precede my corpse: to a priest to sing mass daily, in my +chapel without the city of Worcester, near unto that house of Friars, +which I gave for the health of my soul, and for the soul of Isabel my +wife, Isabel de Mortimer, and all the faithful deceased, all my rent of +the fee of Richard Bruli, in Wiche and Winchester, with supply of what +should be short, out of my own proper goods. * * * To William, my oldest +son, the cup and horns of St. Hugh. * * * To Isabel, my wife, ten +marks<a name='fna_9' id='fna_9' href='#f_9'><small>[9]</small></a>: to the Church and nuns of Westwood one mark: to the Church and +nuns without Worcester one mark: to every Anchorite in Worcester and the +parts adjacent four shillings: to the Church of Salewarp, a house and +garden, near the parsonage, to find a lamp to burn continually therein to +the honor of God, the blessed Virgins St. Katherine, and St. Margaret.”</p> + +<p>The will of his son, the Earl of Warwick, is full of the spirit of the +age. He died in 1298—“My heart to be buried wheresoever the Countess, my +dear consort, may, herself, resolve to be interred: to the place, where I +may be buried two great horses, viz., those which shall carry my armor at +my funeral, for the solemnizing of which, I bequeath two hundred pounds: +to the maintenance of two soldiers in the Holy Land one hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_652" id="Page_652">[Pg 652]</a></span> pounds: +to Maud, my wife, all my silver vessels, with the cross, wherein is +contained part of the wood of the very cross, on which our Saviour died. * +* * To my said wife a cup, which the Bishop of Worcester gave me, and all +my other cups, with my lesser sort of jewels and rings, to distribute for +the health of my soul, where she may think best: to my two daughters, nuns +at Shouldham, fifty marks.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth De Burgh, Lady of Clare, was the daughter of Gilbert de Clare, +Earl of Gloucester, by Joan D’Acres, daughter of Edward I. She was thrice +married. Her will is a curious affair, and bears date Sept. 25, 1355. She +leaves legacies to her “servants” numbering, about one hundred and forty, +and among whom are several knights and “peres.”—“My body to be buried in +the Sisters Minories, beyond Aldgate. I devise c. c. lb. of wax, to burn +round my corpse. I will that my body be not buried for fifteen days after +my decease. * * * For masses to be sung for the souls of Monsr. John de +Bourg, Monsr. Theobaud de Verdon, and Monsr. Roger Dammory, my lords, my +soul, and for the souls of all my good and loyal servants, who have died +or may die in my service CXL., li.: To find five men for the Holy Land C. +marks, to be spent, in the service of God and destruction of his enemies, +if any general voyage be made within seven years after my decease: To my +daughter Bardoff my bed of green velvet.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth, Countess of Northampton, wife of William de Bohnn, made her +will, in 1356. To the Church of the Friars Preachers, in London, she +bequeaths: “C. marks sterling, and also the cross, made of the very wood +of our Saviour’s cross which I was wont to carry about me, and wherein is +contained one of the thorns of his crown; and I bequeath to the said +Church two fair altar cloths of one suit, two of cloth of gold, one +chalice, one missal, one graille,<a name='fna_10' id='fna_10' href='#f_10'><small>[10]</small></a> and one silver bell; likewise +thirty-one ells of linen cloth for making of albes, one pulpitory, one +portfory,<a name='fna_11' id='fna_11' href='#f_11'><small>[11]</small></a> and a holy water pot of silver.” She also wills, that “one +hundred and fifty marks be distributed to several other convents of Friars +Preachers, in such manner as Friar David de Stirrington shall think best, +for my soul’s health: To the Grey Friars, in London five marks: To the +Carmelites five marks: and to the Augustines five marks * * * to Elizabeth +my daughter a bed of red worsted embroidered:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_653" id="Page_653">[Pg 653]</a></span> To my sister, the Countess +of Oxford a black horse and a nonche.<a name='fna_12' id='fna_12' href='#f_12'><small>[12]</small></a>”</p> + +<p>Believers in the doctrine of transubstantation must extend their faith to +the very cross; for, to comprehend all the wood, in possession of the +faithful, it must have consisted of many cords of substantial timber.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLVI" id="No_CLVI"></a>No. CLVI.</h2> + + +<p>The testamentary recognition of bastards, <i>eo nomine</i>, was very common, in +the olden time. There were some, to whom funereal extravagance and pomp +were offensive. Sir Ottro De Grandison says, in his will, dated Sept. 18, +1358—“I entreat, that no armed horse or armed man be allowed to go before +my body, on my burial day, nor that my body be covered with any cloth, +painted, or gilt, or signed with my arms; but that it be only of white +cloth, marked with a red cross; and I give for the charges thereof <span class="smcaplc">XX</span><i>l.</i> +and <span class="smcaplc">X.</span> quarters of wheat: to a priest to celebrate divine service, in the +church at Chellesfield for three years after my decease, <span class="smcaplc">XV</span><i>l.</i>: to +Thomas, my son, all my armor, four horses, twelve oxen, and two hundred +ewe sheep. * * * * To my bastard son,” &c.</p> + +<p>Henry, Duke of Lancaster, 1360, wills, “that our body be not buried for +three weeks after the departure of our soul.”</p> + +<p>Humphrey De Bohun, Earl of Hereford, 1361, bequeaths to his nephew +Humphrey—“a nonche<a name='fna_13' id='fna_13' href='#f_13'><small>[13]</small></a> of gold, surrounded with large pearls, with a ruby +between four pearls, three diamonds, and a pair of gold paternosters of +fifty pieces, with ornaments, together with a cross of gold, in which is a +piece of the true cross of our Lord: to Elizabeth, our niece of +Northampton, a bed with the arms of England. * * * * We will also that a +chaplain of good condition be sent to Jerusalem, principally for my Lady +my mother, my Lord my father, and for us; and that the chaplain be charged +to say masses by the way, at all times that he can conveniently, for the +souls.”</p> + +<p>Agnes, Countess of Pembroke, daughter of Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, +wills, in 1367, that her body be buried, “within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_654" id="Page_654">[Pg 654]</a></span> two days after my death, +without any other cost than a blue cloth and two tapers of ten pound +weight.”</p> + +<p>Robert, Earl of Suffolk, 1368—“I will, that five square tapers and four +mortars,<a name='fna_14' id='fna_14' href='#f_14'><small>[14]</small></a> besides torches, shall burn about my corpse, at my funeral: +To William my oldest son my sword, which the King gave me, in name of the +Earldom, also my bed with the eagle, and my summer vestment, powdered with +leopards.”</p> + +<p>Roger, Lord de Warre, personally took John, King of France, prisoner, at +the battle of Poictiers, and obtained the crampet or chape of his sword, +as a memorial of his chivalry. His will bears date 1368—“My body to be +buried without pomp, and I will that, on my funeral day, twenty-four +torches be placed about my corpse, and two tapers, one at my head and one +at my feet, and also that my best horse shall be my principal, without any +armour or man armed, according to the custom of mean people.” He orders +his estate to be divided into three parts—“one to be disposed of for the +health of my soul.”</p> + +<p>Joan, Lady Cobham, 1369—“I will that <span class="smcaplc">VII.</span> thousand masses be said for my +soul by the canons of Tunbrugge and Tanfugge and the four orders of Friars +in London, viz. the Friars Preachers, Minors, Augustines, and Carmelites, +who, for so doing shall have <span class="smcaplc">XXIX</span><i>l.</i> <span class="smcaplc">III</span><i>s.</i> +<span class="smcaplc">IV</span><i>d.</i> Also I will that, on my funeral day, twelve poor persons, +clothed in black gowns and hoods, shall carry twelve torches.”</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Manney, 1371—“My body to be buried at God’s pleasure * * * but +without any great pomp * * * twenty masses to be said for my soul, and +that every poor person coming to my funeral shall have a penny to pray for +me, and for the remission of my sins. * * * To my two bastard daughters, +nuns, viz., Mailosel and Malplesant, the one cc. franks, the other c. +franks. * * * To Margaret Mareschall, my dear wife, my plate, which I +bought of Robert Francis; also a girdle of gold, and a hook for a mantle, +and likewise a garter of gold, with all my girdles and knives, and all my +beds and clossers in my wardrobe, excepting my folding bed, paly of blue +and red, which I bequeath to my daughter of Pembroke.”</p> + +<p>Thomas, Earl of Oxford, 1371—“For my funeral expenses <span class="smcaplc">CXXXIII</span><i>l.</i> To Maud +my wife all my reliques now in my own keeping, and a cross made of the +very wood of Christ’s cross. To Sir Alberic de Vere, my brother, a coat of +mail, which Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_655" id="Page_655">[Pg 655]</a></span> William de Wingfield gave me, also a new helmet and a +pair of gauntlets.”</p> + +<p>Anne, Lady Maltravers, 1374—“No cloth of gold to be put upon my corpse, +nor any more than five tapers, each weighing five pounds, be put about +it.”</p> + +<p>Edward, Lord Despencer, 1375—“To the Abbot and Convent of Tewksbury one +whole suit of my best vestments, also two gilt chalices, one gilt hanap, +likewise a ewer, wherein to put the body of Christ, on Corpus Christi day, +which was given to me by the King of France. To Elizabeth, my wife, my +great bed of blue camaka with griffins; also another bed of camaka, +striped with white and black, with all the furniture, thereto belonging.”</p> + +<p>Mary, Countess of Pembroke, 1376—“To the Abbey of Westminster a cross +with a foot of gold and emeralds, which Sir William de Valence, Kt., +brought from the Holy Land.”</p> + +<p>Philipa, Countess of March, 1378—“To Edmond, my son, a bed, &c. Also a +gold ring, with a piece of the true cross, with this writing, <i>In nomine +Patris, et Filii, el Spiritus Sancti, Amen</i>. Which I charge him, on my +blessing to keep.”</p> + +<p>Sir John Northwood, Knight, 1378—“I will that two Pilgrims be sent to +visit the shadow of St. Peter, Paul, and James, in Gallacia.”</p> + +<p>Sir Roger Beauchamp, Kt., 1379—“My body to be buried in the church of the +Friars Preachers, near to the grave, where Sybil, my wife resteth. And I +desire, that, at my funeral, there be a <i>placebo</i> and <i>dirige</i> with note, +and, on the morrow after, two masses, one of our Lady, and another of +Requiem. And whereas I am bound to do a service on the Infidels, by devise +of my grandsire, Sir Walter Beauchamp, to the expense of two hundred +marks, I will, that Roger, son to Roger, my son, shall perform the same, +when he comes of age. To my Chauntrey of Bletnesho one hundred pounds, for +the maintenance of one priest, to sing there perpetually, for my soul, and +also for the soul of Sybil, late my wife, and for all Christian souls.”</p> + +<p>William, Lord Latimer, 1380—“I will that my house in the parish of St. +Mary’s be sold, to found prayers for King Edward’s soul.”</p> + +<p>Guichard, Earl of Huntington, 1380—“I will that my heart be taken out of +my body and preserved with spices, and deposited in the said church of +Engle. I will that the expenses of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_656" id="Page_656">[Pg 656]</a></span> my funeral, if celebrated with pomp, +be bestowed in masses for my soul.”</p> + +<p>Edmond, Earl of March, was a man of great note. His will is dated May 1, +1380—“To the Abbey of Wigmore a large cross of gold, set with stones with +a relique of the cross of our Lord, a bone of St. Richard the Confessor, +Bishop of Chicester, and a finger of St. Thomas de Cantelowe, Bishop of +Hereford, and the reliques of St. Thomas, Bishop of Canterbury. To Roger, +our son and heir, the cup of gold with a cover called <i>Benesonne</i>, and our +sword, garnished with gold, which belonged to the good King Edward, with +God’s blessing and ours. * * * Also our large bed of black satin, +embroidered with white lions and gold roses.”</p> + +<p>William, Earl of Suffolk, 1381—“I will that, on the eve and day of my +funeral, there shall be five square tapers of the height, which my nearest +of kin shall think fit, and four morters; also forty-eight torches borne +by forty-eight poor men, clothed in white. * * * I will that a picture of +a horse and man, armed with my arms, be made in silver, and offered to the +altar of our Lady of Walsingham; and another the like be made and offered +at Bromeholme.”</p> + +<p>One of the most interesting, among the olden wills, is that of John, Duke +of Lancaster—the famous John of Gaunt. He died in February, 1399. His +will bears date Feb. 3, 1397—“My body to be buried, in the Cathedral +church of St. Paul of London, near the principal altar, beside my most +dear wife, Blanch, who is there interred. If I die out of London, I desire +that the night my body arrives there, it be carried direct to the Friars +Carmelites, in Fleet Street, and the next day taken strait to St. Paul’s, +and that it be not buried for forty days, during which I charge my +executors, that there be no cering or embalming my corpse. * * * I desire +that chauntries and obits be founded for the souls of my late dear wives +Blanch and Constance, whom God pardon; to the altar of St. Paul’s my +vestment of satin embroidered, which I bought of Courtnay, embroider of +London. * * * To my most dear wife, Katherine, my two best nonches, which +I have, excepting that, which I have allowed to my Lord and nephew, the +King, and my large cup of gold, which the Earl of Wilts gave to the King, +my Lord, upon my going into Guienne, together with all the buckles, rings, +diamonds, rubies and other things, that will be found, in a little box of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_657" id="Page_657">[Pg 657]</a></span> +cypress wood, of which I carry the key myself, and all the robes, which I +bought of my dear cousin, the Duchess of Norfolk;<a name='fna_15' id='fna_15' href='#f_15'><small>[15]</small></a> also my large bed of +black velvet, embroidered with a circle of fetter locks<a name='fna_16' id='fna_16' href='#f_16'><small>[16]</small></a> and garters, +all the beds, made for my body, called trussing beds, my best stay with a +good ruby, my best collar, all which my said wife had before her marriage +with me, also all the goods and jewels, which I have given her, since my +marriage. To my Lord and nephew, the king,<a name='fna_17' id='fna_17' href='#f_17'><small>[17]</small></a> the best nonche, which I +have, on the day of my death, my best cup of gold, which my dear wife +Katherine gave me, on New Year’s day last, my gold salt-cellar with a +garter, and the piece of arras, which the Duke of Burgoyne gave me, when I +was in Calais.” This is a mere extract. The will bequeaths numerous +legacies of nonches, beds, and cups of gold; and abundantly provides for +chauntries, masses, and obits.</p> + +<p>Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, 1399—“To the Abbess and Convent of the +Sisters Minoresses, near London, without Aldgate, <span class="smcaplc">VI</span><i>l.</i> +<span class="smcaplc">XIII</span><i>s.</i> <span class="smcaplc">IIII</span><i>d.</i> +and a tonel of good wine. * * * To my Lady and mother, the Countess of +Hereford, a pair of paternosters of coral.”</p> + +<p>Thomas Mussenden, 1402—“I will, that all my arms, swords, bastard,<a name='fna_18' id='fna_18' href='#f_18'><small>[18]</small></a> and +dagger be sold, and disposed of, for my soul.”</p> + +<p>William Heron, Lord Say, 1404—“Whereas I have been a soldier, and taken +wages from King Richard and the Realm, as well by land as by water, and +peradventure received more than my desert, I will that my Executor pay six +score marks to the most needful men, unto whom King Richard was debtor, in +discharge of his soul.”</p> + +<p>Sir Lewis Clifford, Kt.—“I, Lewis Clifford, false and traitor to my Lord +God, and to all the blessed company of Heaven, and unworthy to be called a +Christian man, make and ordaine my testament and my last will the 17th of +September, 1404. At the beginning, I, most unworthy and God’s traitor, +recommend my wretched and sinful soul to the grace and to the mercy of the +blissful Trinity, and my wretched carrion to be buried in the furthest +corner of the churchyard, in which parish my wretched soul departeth from +my body. And I pray and charge my executors, as they will answer before +God, that on my stinking carrion be neither laid cloth of gold nor of +silk, but a black cloth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_658" id="Page_658">[Pg 658]</a></span> and a taper at my head and another at my feet; +no stone nor other thing, whereby any man may know where my stinking +carrion lieth.” In the original, this word is written <i>careyne</i>.</p> + +<p>The reader will be amused to know the cause of all this humility. Sir +Lewis had joined the Lollards, who rejected the doctrines of the mass, +penance for sins, extreme unction, &c.; but was brought back to the church +of Rome; and thus records his penitence.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLVII" id="No_CLVII"></a>No. CLVII.</h2> + +<p class="center">“Tell thou the Earl his divination lies.” <span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span></p> + + +<p>An impertinent desire to pry into the future, by unnatural means—to +penetrate the hidden purposes of God—is coeval with the earliest +development of man’s finite powers. It is Titanic insolence—and resembles +the audacity of the giants, who piled Pelion upon Ossa, to be upon a level +with the gods.</p> + +<p>Divination, however old it may be, seems not to wear out its welcome with +a credulous world, nor to grow bald with time. It has been longer upon the +earth, than from the time, when Joseph’s silver cup, “whereby he +divineth,” was deposited, in Benjamin’s sack, to the days of Moll Pitcher +of Lynn, whose divining cup was of crockery ware.</p> + +<p>“<i>Mediums</i>” are mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles—“<i>And it came to +pass, as we went to prayer, a certain damsel, possessed with a spirit of +divination, met us, which brought her masters much gain, by soothsaying</i>.” +Paul cast out the evil spirit; an example worthy of consideration, by +those, to whom the power is given, in the statute, to commit “<i>all +persons, who use any juggling</i>,” to the house of correction, unless their +exhibitions are licensed, according to law.</p> + +<p>All manner of rogues and roguery has immemorially delighted in <i>aliases</i>. +So has it been with that species of imposture, which assumes, that man’s +<i>finite</i> powers are sufficient, for <i>infinite</i> purposes. The black art, +magic, fortune telling, sorcery, divination, soothsaying, augury, oracular +responses, witchcraft, judicial astrology, palmistry, which is the same +thing as chiromancy, or divination, by the lines of the hand or palm, +horoscopy, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_659" id="Page_659">[Pg 659]</a></span> is a part of judicial astrology, haruspicy, or +divination, from an inspection of entrails, aeromancy, the art of divining +by the air, pyromancy, by flame or fire, hydromancy, by water, geomancy, +by cracks or clefts in the earth, hepatoscopy, by the liver, stareomancy, +by the elements, theomancy, by the spirit, demonomancy, by the revelation +of genii or devils, idolomancy, by images, psychomancy, by the will or +inward movement of the soul, antinopomancy, by the viscera of animals, +theriomancy, by beasts, ornithomancy, by birds, icthyomancy, by fishes, +botanomancy, by herbs, lithomancy, by stones, cleromancy, by lots, +oneiromancy, by dreams, onomancy, by names, arithmancy, by numbers, +logarithmancy, by logarithms, sternomancy, by the chest, gastromancy, by +abdominal sounds, omphelomancy, by the signs of the navel, pedomancy, by +the feet, onychomancy, by the nails, cephaleonomancy, by the marks of the +head, tuphramancy, by ashes, capnomancy, by smoke, livanomancy, by the +burning of frankincense, carromancy, by the burning of wax, lecanomancy, +by basins of water, catoxtromancy, by mirrors, chartomancy, by certain +writings on paper, machanomancy, by knives, chrystallomancy, by glasses, +dactylomancy, by rings, coseinomancy, by seives, axinomancy, by saws, +cattobomancy, by brazen chalices, roadomancy, by stars, spatalamancy, by +bones and skins, sciomancy, by shadows, astragalomancy, by dice, +oinomancy, by wine, sycomancy, by figs, typomancy, by the coagulation of +cheese, alphitomancy, by flour or bran, crithomancy, by grain or corn, +alectromancy, by cocks and hens, gyromancy, by rounds and circles, +lampadomancy, by candles and lamps, nagomancy, or necromancy, by +consulting, or divining with, by, or from the dead.</p> + +<p>The reader must bear in mind, that this list of absurdities is brief and +imperfect. All these <i>mancies</i>, and many more may be found in Gaule’s +Mag-Astro-Mancer, page 165, and many of them are described in the Fabricii +Bibliographia Antiquaria.</p> + +<p>These mischievous follies have prevailed, in a greater or less degree, in +every age, and among every people. During the very days of auguries, +nevertheless, individuals have appeared, whose rough, common sense tore +itself forcibly away, from the prevailing delusions of the age. A pleasant +tale is related, by Claude Millot, of an old Roman Admiral. He was in +pursuit of the Carthagenian fleet; and, as he gained upon the enemy, and a +battle seemed to be unavoidable, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_660" id="Page_660">[Pg 660]</a></span> haruspex, or priest, who, as usual, +accompanied the expedition, with the birds of omen, and who had probably +become alarmed, for his personal safety, came suddenly on deck, +exclaiming, that the sacred pullets <i>would not eat</i>, and that, under such +circumstances, it would be unsafe to engage. The old Roman tar ordered the +sacred pullets, then in their cage, to be brought before him, and, kicking +them overboard, exclaimed, “<i>let them drink then</i>.”</p> + +<p>The etymology of the word necromancy, νεκρος μάντις, shows its +direct application to the scandalous orgies, which are matters of weekly +exhibition, in many of our villages and cities, under the name of +<i>spiritual knockings</i>. Though Sir Thomas Browne could mark, learn, and +inwardly digest a witch, a <i>necromancer</i> was beyond his powers; and in +Book I., Chap. X. of his Pseudodoxia, he speaks, with deep contempt, of +such as “can believe in the real resurrection of Samuel, or that there is +anything but delusion, in the practice of <i>necromancy</i>, and popular +raising of ghosts.”</p> + +<p><i>Necromancers</i> are those, who pretend to a power of communing with the +dead, that is, conjuring up spirits, and of consulting them, in regard to +the affairs of this or the other world. In the strictest sense, the Fishes +and the Foxes and their numerous imitators are <i>necromancers</i>, of course.</p> + +<p>This impious and eminently pernicious practice has been condemned, in +every age, and by every civilized nation. It was condemned, by the law of +Moses—“There shall not be found among you any one, that maketh his son or +his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an +observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a charmer, or a +consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard or a necromancer. For all +that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord.” Deut. xviii. 10, +11, 12.</p> + +<p>Conjurers may justly be accounted disturbers of the public peace; and such +undoubtedly they are, most effectually, by unsettling the minds of +credulous people, murdering sleep, and, occasionally, as in repeated +instances, during the progress of the present delusion, by driving their +infatuated victims to despair, insanity, and suicide. Severe laws have +often been enacted, against these pestilent impostors. Conjuration was +made felony by statute 1, James I., 1603. This was repealed by 9 Geo. II., +1763. This repeal was in keeping with the ascendancy of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_661" id="Page_661">[Pg 661]</a></span>common sense, +which decreed, that all conjuration was an absurdity: but, at the same +time, all <i>pretensions</i> to exercise this or any similar art was made +punishable, as a misdemeanor. All laws, against witchcraft and sorcery, +founded on the presumption of their possibility, are now justly accounted +cruel and absurd. Laws, for the punishment of such, as disturb the public +repose, by pretending to exercise these unnatural agencies, are no less +judicious; though they have not always been effectual, against the +prejudices of the people. The <i>Genethliaci</i>, who erected their horoscopes +in Rome, for the purpose of foretelling future events, by judicial +astrology, were expelled, by a formal decree of the senate; yet they long +retained their hold, upon the affections of a credulous people.</p> + +<p>This species of divination, by the heavenly bodies, commenced with the +Chaldeans, and, from them, passed to the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. +Henault informs us, that it was much in vogue, in France, during the days +of Catherine de Medicis. Roger Bacon was greatly devoted to the practice +of Judicial Astrology. Cecil, Lord Burleigh, is known, gravely and +elaborately to have calculated the nativity of Queen Elizabeth, who was +feverishly addicted to magic. The judicial astrologers of the middle ages +were a formidable body, and their conjuring cups and glasses were in high +esteem. In Sweden, judicial astrology was in the greatest favor, with +kings and commoners. A particular influence was ascribed to the conjuring +cup of Erricus, king of Sweden. The Swedes firmly believed, that +Herlicius, their famous astrologer, had truly predicted the death of the +monarch, Gustavus Adolphus, in 1632, at the battle of Lutzengen, or +Lippstadt.</p> + +<p>In the reigns of Henry III. and Henry IV. of France, this absurd delusion +was in such repute, that judicial astrologers were consulted, upon the +most trivial occasions; and their daily predictions were the theme of +grave and constant conversation, with every class of society. It was no +uncommon thing, even in England, for those, who were desirous of +communicating with the dead, to make a previous arrangement with some +favorite astrologer, and <i>bespeak a spirit</i>, as we bespeak a coach, for +some particular hour.</p> + +<p>In the Autobiography of William Lilly, the famous astrologer, in the time +of the Stuarts, a curious account is given of Alexander Hart, an +astrologer, living in Houndsditch, about the year<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_662" id="Page_662">[Pg 662]</a></span> 1632. It seems, that +Hart had entered into a contract with a countryman, who had paid him +twenty or thirty pounds, to arrange a meeting between this countryman and +a particular spirit, at an appointed time. But, either Hart’s powers of +raising the dead were unequal to the task, or the spirit had no +inclination to keep up the countryman’s acquaintance; certain it is, the +spirit was unpunctual; and, the patience of the countryman becoming +exhausted, he caused the astrologer to be indicted, for a cheat. He was +convicted, and about to be set in the pillory, when John Taylor, the water +poet, persuaded Chief Justice Richardson to bail him, and Hart was fairly +spirited away. He then fled into Holland, where, a few years after, he +gave up the spirit, in reality.</p> + +<p>Its unintelligible quality is the very essence of delusion. Nothing can be +more unreasonable, therefore, than to mistake our inability to explain a +mystery, for conclusive evidence of its reality and truth. That it is +unintelligible or inexplicable surely affords less evidence of its +reality, and truth, than is furnished of its falsehood, by its manifest +inconsistency with all known natural laws. Bruce informs us, that the +inhabitants of the western coasts of Africa pretend to hold a direct +communication with the devil; and the evidence of the thing they assert is +so very curious and imposing, that he and other travellers are entirely at +fault, in their attempts to explain the mystery. Yet no one, for a moment, +supposes, that Bruce had the slightest confidence in these absurdities.</p> + +<p>And yet, so great, so profound, was the belief of Friar Bacon, in this +preposterous delusion, that, in his Opus Majus, page 65, he exclaims—“Oh, +how happy had it been for the church of God, and how many mischiefs would +it have prevented, if the aspects and qualities of the Heavenly bodies had +been predicted, by learned men, and known to the princes and prelates of +those times! There would not then have been so great a slaughter of +Christians, nor would so many miserable souls have been sent to hell.”</p> + +<p>This eminently learned man, Roger Bacon, refers, in this remarkable +passage, to the various calamities, which existed, in England, Spain, and +Italy, during the year 1264.</p> + +<p>The word, mathematician, seems to have been applied, in that age, +exclusively to astrologers. Peter de Blois, one of the most learned +writers of his time, who died A. D. 1200, says, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_663" id="Page_663">[Pg 663]</a></span> folio edition of +his works, by Gussanville, page 596—“Mathematicians are those, who, from +the position of the stars, the aspect of the firmament, and the motion of +the planets, discover things, that are to come.”</p> + +<p>“These prognosticators,” says Henry, in his History of Great Britain, vol. +vi. page 109, “were so much admired and credited, that there was hardly a +prince, or even an earl, or great baron, in Europe, who did not keep one +or more of them, in his family, to cast the horoscopes of his children, +discover the success of his designs, and the public events, that were to +happen.”</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLVIII" id="No_CLVIII"></a>No. CLVIII.</h2> + + +<p>There are sundry precepts, delivered by Heathen poets, some eighteen +hundred years ago, which modern philosophy may not disregard with +impunity. If it be true, and doubtless it is true, that a certain +blindness to the future is given, in mercy, to man, how utterly unwise are +all our efforts to rend the veil, and how preposterous withal!</p> + +<p>The wiser, even among those, who were not confirmed in the belief, that +there was absolutely nothing, in the doctrines of auguries, and omens, and +judicial astrology, have discountenanced all attempts to pry into the +future, by a resort to such mystical agencies. The counsel of Horace to +Leuconoe is fresh in the memory of every classical reader:—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Tu ne quæsieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi<br /> +Finem Dì dederint, Leuconoë, neu Babylonios<br /> +Tentàris numeros. Ut melius, quidquid erit pati!<br /> +Seu plures hyemes, seu tribuit Jupiter ultimam,<br /> +Quæ nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare<br /> +Tyrrhenum”——</p> + +<p>The version of Francis, however imperfect, may not be unwelcome to the +English reader:—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Strive not, Leuconoe, to pry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into the secret will of fate;</span><br /> +Nor impious magic vainly try<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To know our live’s uncertain date.</span><br /> +<br /> +Whether th’ indulgent Power divine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hath many seasons yet in store,</span><br /> +Or this the latest winter thine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which breaks its waves against the shore.”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_664" id="Page_664">[Pg 664]</a></span>This passage from Horace is not required, to establish the fact, that +magical arts were practised, among the Babylonians. A certain measure of +superstition seems to belong to the nature of man; and to grow greater or +less, in proportion to the exercise, or neglect, of his reasoning +faculties. From this general rule history has furnished us with eminent +exceptions. Cunning, and cupidity, and credulity are destined to be ever +present: it is therefore to be expected, that, from age to age, the most +egregious absurdities will pass, upon a portion of the community, for +sober truths.</p> + +<p>The fact, that popular absurdities have won the patient, if not the +respectful, consideration of certain distinguished individuals, who have +spoken, and written, doubtingly, if not precisely, in their favor, goes +but a very little way, in their behalf. There was a time, when all the +world believed, that the sun revolved around the earth, and that the blood +was a stagnant pool, in the human body. There are none, I presume, of all, +who give their confidence to any marvel of modern times, who are more +learned or more wise, than Sir Matthew Hale, or Sir Thomas Browne. Yet +both these wise and learned men were firm believers, in witchcraft; and +two miserable people, Cullender and Duny, were given over to be hung, by +Sir Matthew, partly upon the testimony of Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>Though nobody, whose sense is of the common kind, believes in witchcraft, +at the present day, there was formerly no lack of believers, in any rank, +or profession, in society. The matter was taken for a fixed and +incontrovertible fact. The evidence was clear and conclusive, in the +opinion of some, among the most eminent judges. If to doubt was not +exactly to be damned, it often brought the audacious unbeliever, in danger +of being hanged. Competent witnesses gravely swore, that pins and needles +were run into their bodies, by persons, at the distance of a mile or more. +For this offence, the witches were sentenced to be hanged; and, upon the +gallows, confessed, with tears in their eyes, that they did really stick +those identical pins, into the bodies of their accusers, being at the +time, at the distance of a mile or more; and were swung off; having thus +made their peace with God. Witnesses actually swore, that their houses +were rocked, by old women, apparently too feeble to rock an infant’s +cradle, and that tables and chairs were turned topsy turvy; and the old +ladies confessed, that they had actually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_665" id="Page_665">[Pg 665]</a></span> rocked two-story houses and +upset those tables, and seemed to be pleased with the distinction of being +hanged, for the achievement.</p> + +<p>Whoever doubted these miracles was called upon to <i>explain</i>, or <i>believe</i>; +and, if he could not indicate clearly the mode, in which this jugglery was +effected, he was required to believe in a thing, which was manifestly not +<i>in rerum natura</i>. In this dilemma, he might suggest an example of +legerdemain, familiar to us all—a juggler puts an egg into an ordinary +hat, and, apparently, in an instant, the egg is converted into a pancake. +If the beholder cannot demonstrate how this is done, he, of course, must +believe in the actual conversion, that is in transubstantiation. I have +seen this little miracle performed, and confess I do not understand it; +and yet I exceedingly doubt, if an egg can be so instantly converted into +a pancake.</p> + +<p>The witch of Endor pretended to conjure up the dead. The effigy was +supposed to be made manifest to the eye. Our modern witches and wizards +conjure, up or down, whichever it may be, invisible spirits. These spirits +have no power of audible speech; thus far, at least, they seem not to have +recovered the use of their tongues. To be sure, spirit without matter +cannot be supposed to emit sounds; but such is not the case here, for they +convey their responses, audibly, by knockings. This is rather a circuitous +mode of conveying intelligence, with their fingers and toes, which might +be more easily conveyed by the voice.</p> + +<p>The difference, between our Blitzes and Samees, and the Fishes and the +Foxes, consists in this—the former never, for a moment, pretend, that +eggs are in reality pancakes, or that they actually perform the pretty +miracles, which they seem to perform—the latter gravely contend, as it +was contended, in the days of witchcraft, those days, that tried old +women’s souls, that their achievements are realities.</p> + +<p>So long as these matters are merely harmless, even though they consume +much valuable time, that might be more worthily employed, and transfer the +illy-spared coin of the credulous poor, from their own pockets, to the +pockets of unprincipled jugglers and impostors, perhaps it may be well to +suffer the evil to correct itself, and die even a lingering death. But, +when it is manifestly spreading, broadcast, over the land, and even +receiving a dash of something like grave importance from the pen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_666" id="Page_666">[Pg 666]</a></span> +occasionally, of some professional gentleman, whose very doubt may dignify +delusion; the matter seems really to demand some little consideration, at +least: not that the doubts, even of a respectable physician, elaborately +uttered, in a journal of fair repute, can do more to establish the power +of mother Fish or mother Fox, to raise the dead, than was achieved, by the +opinion of Lord Chief Justice Hale, in favor of witchcraft. That has +fallen, as, in due time, this will fall, into merited contempt. But the +expression of doubts, from a respectable quarter, upon an occasion like +the present, tends, obviously, to strengthen those hands, which probably +deserve to be paralyzed.</p> + +<p>So long, as a matter, like this, is confined to speculation, it may be +suffered to flit by, like the folly of a day. But the pestilent thing, of +which I am speaking, has, long ago, assumed an entirely different, and a +severer, type. At this very time, individuals, who are strictly entitled +to the name of vagabonds, male and female, are getting their bread, by +cheating the curious and the credulous, in a great number of our towns and +villages, by the performance of these frightful antics. This term is +altogether too feeble, to express the meaning, which I would gladly fix, +in the public mind. By these infernal agencies, children are imbued with a +superstitious fear, which tends to enfeeble their intellects, and has a +mischievous influence, upon life and conduct, to the end of their +days—upon children of a larger growth, especially upon those of nervous +temperament, and feeble health, the pernicious effect is incalculable. The +fact is perfectly well known, and thoroughly established, that these +diabolical orgies, and mystical teachings have not only inflicted the +deepest misery on many minds, but have induced several infatuated persons, +to commit self murder; and driven others to despair; deprived them of +their reason; and caused them to be placed, in asylums for the insane.</p> + +<p>It is no longer therefore the part of wisdom to treat this evil, with +sheer contempt. The conflagration has advanced too far, for us to hope it +will go out, erelong, of its own accord. What is then the part of wisdom?</p> + +<p>There are individuals, whose opinions are certainly entitled to respect, +and who conceive, that these mysteries deserve a full and formal +examination, by a committee of wise and learned men, that the world may be +guided by their decision. I am fearful, that such a course would result in +nothing better than disappointment, if in nothing worse.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_667" id="Page_667">[Pg 667]</a></span>These mysteries are Protean, in their character—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Verum, ubi correptum manibus vinclisque tenebis,<br /> +Turn variæ eludent species atque ora ferarum.”</p> + +<p>If the members of the learned inquisition should furnish an explanation of +one, or more, of these <i>mirabilia</i>, a new series of perplexing novelties +would speedily arise, and demand their attention;—so that the <i>savans</i> +would, necessarily, become a standing committee, on modern miracles. The +incomparable Blitz, if the process were discovered, by which he appears, +instantaneously, to convert an egg into a pancake, would challenge you to +explain another, by which he rapidly deduces some thirty yards of ribbon +from the nose of a bystander. And, if we cannot explain this mystery, he +may as reasonably demand of us to believe it a reality, as goody Fox or +goody Fish may require her <i>customers</i>—for raising the dead is a +trade—to believe in her power, to conjure up spirits, because we may not +be able to discover the process, by which the rappings are produced.</p> + +<p>But, even if an investigation were made, by the most competent +physiologists, and the decree should go forth, <i>ex cathedra</i>; it would, +probably, produce a very slight impression upon the whole community. That +same self-conceit, which often fills an old woman to the brim, with the +belief, that she is a more skilful leech, than Æsculapius ever was, will +continue to stand the credulous instead; and the rappings will go on, in +spite of the decree of the <i>savans</i>; the spirits of the dead will continue +to be raised, as they are, at present, at fifty cents apiece; men, women, +and children will insist upon their inalienable right to believe, that +eggs are pancakes, and that, in violation of all the established laws of +nature, ghosts may be conjured up, at the shortest notice; and examples +will continue to occur, of distressing nervous excitement, domestic +misery, self-murder, and madness.</p> + +<p>The question recurs—what shall be done, for the correction of this +increasing evil? Some suggestions have been made, sufficiently germain to +several of the extraordinary pretensions of the present day. Thus, in +respect to <i>clairvoyance</i>, a standing offer of several thousand francs has +been made, by certain persons, in Paris, to any individual, who will prove +his ability to see through a pine plank. In regard also to the assumption +of knowledge, obtained, through a pretended communication with spirits, a +purse of gold has been offered to any person, who, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_668" id="Page_668">[Pg 668]</a></span> the aid of all +the spirits he can conjure up to his assistance, will truly declare the +amount it contains, with a moderate forfeit, in case of failure.</p> + +<p>This whole matter of conjuration, and spiritual rapping has become an +insufferable evil. It is a crying nuisance, and should be dealt with +accordingly. It is, by no means, necessary, before we proceed to abate a +nuisance, to inquire, in what manner it is produced. It is not possible to +distinguish, between the <i>chevaliers d’industrie</i>, who swindle the +credulous out of their money, by the exhibition of these highly pernicious +orgies, from conjurors and jugglers. If this construction be correct, and +I perceive nothing to the contrary, then these mischief-makers come within +the fifth section of chapter 143 of the Revised Statutes of Massachusetts. +Any police court or justice of the peace, has power to send to the house +of correction, “<i>all persons who use any juggling</i>.” It would be a public +service to apply this wholesome law to goody Fox, or goody Fish, or any +other goody, of either sex, holding these conjurations within our +precinct. Upon a complaint, the question would necessarily arise if the +offence charged were “<i>juggling</i>” or not; and the rule of evidence, +<i>cuique in sua arte</i>, would bring out the opinions of men, learned in +their profession. I am aware of no other mode, by which those persons are +likely to be gratified, who believe these proceedings entitled to serious +examination. Let us not drop this interesting subject here.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLIX" id="No_CLIX"></a>No. CLIX.</h2> + + +<p>In the olden time, almanacs were exclusively the work of judicial +astrologers. The calendar, in addition to the registration of remarkable +events, and times, and tides, and predictions, in relation to the weather, +presumed to foretell the affairs of mankind, and the prospective changes, +in the condition of the world; not by any processes of reasoning, but by a +careful contemplation of the heavenly bodies.</p> + +<p>On most occasions, these predictions were sufficiently vague, for the +soothsayer’s security; quite as much so, as our more modern +foreshadowings, in relation to the weather, whose <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_669" id="Page_669">[Pg 669]</a></span>admonitions, to <i>expect +a change</i>, <i>about these times</i>, are frequently extended from the beginning +to the end of the calendar month. An example of this wariness appears, in +a letter of John of Salisbury, written in 1170. “The astrologers,” says +he, “call this year the wonderful year, from the singular situation of the +planets and constellations; and say, that, in the course of it, the +councils of kings will be changed, wars will be frequent, and the world +will be troubled with seditions; that learned men will be discouraged; +but, towards the end of the year, they will be exalted.”</p> + +<p>Emboldened, by the almost universal deference, paid to their predictions, +the astrologers soon began to venture, on a measure of precision, which +was somewhat hazardous.</p> + +<p>In the commencement of the year 1186, the most distinguished judicial +astrologers, not only in England, but upon the continent, proclaimed, that +there existed an unprecedented conjunction of the planets, in the sign +Libra. Hence they predicted, that, on Tuesday, the sixteenth day of +September, at three o’clock in the morning, a storm would arise, such as +the world had never known before. They asserted, with an amazing +confidence, that, not only individual structures would be destroyed, by +this terrible storm, but that great cities would be swept away, before its +fury. This tempest, according to their predictions, would be followed, by +a far spreading pestilence, and by wars of unexampled severity. A +particular account of these remarkable predictions may be found, on page +356 of the annals of Roger de Hoveden.</p> + +<p>No more conclusive evidence is necessary of the implicit, and universal +confidence, which then prevailed, in the teachings of judicial astrology, +than the wide spread dismay and consternation, produced by these bold and +positive predictions. It is not possible to calculate the sum of human +misery, inflicted upon society, by the terrible anticipations of these +coming events. As the fatal day drew near, extraordinary preparations were +everywhere made, to secure property, from the devastating effects of the +approaching tempest. Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, commanded a solemn +fast of three days’ continuance, throughout his precinct. On the night of +the fifteenth of September, very many persons sat up, in solemn +expectation of the coming tempest.</p> + +<p>It has been cruelly observed of medical men, that, to some of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_670" id="Page_670">[Pg 670]</a></span> their +number, the death of a patient would, on the whole, be rather more +agreeable, than that he should falsify their prediction, by the recovery +of his health. How powerfully a sentiment, similar to this, must have +exercised the spirits of these astrologers, as the appointed hour drew +nigh! It came at last—bright and cloudless—followed by a day of unusual +serenity. The season was one of extraordinary mildness; the harvest and +vintage were abundant; and the general health of the people was a subject +of universal observation. Old Gervase, of Tilbury, in his Chronicles, +alluding to the Archbishop’s fears and fastings, remarks, that there were +no storms, during the whole year, other than such, as the Archbishop +himself raised in the church, by his own absurdity and violence.</p> + +<p>The astrologers hung their heads, for very shame, and lost caste, for a +time, with the people.</p> + +<p>Divination was, of old, emphatically, a royal folly; and kings have been +its dupes and votaries, from the earliest ages of the world. The secret +manner, in which Saul betook himself to the witch of Endor, arose, partly, +from his knowledge, that such orgies were a violation of divine and human +laws. The evils, resulting from such absurdities, had become so apparent, +that Saul, himself, had already banished all the soothsayers and magicians +from his kingdom. It is manifest, from the experience of Saul, that it is +unwise to consult a witch, upon an empty stomach—“<i>Then Saul fell +straightway all along on the earth, and was sore afraid, because of the +words of Samuel: and there was no strength in him; for he had eaten no +bread all the day, nor all the night</i>.”</p> + +<p>Lucan, lib. vi. v. 570, et seq., represents young Pompey, just before the +battle of Pharsalia, as paying a nocturnal visit, to a sorceress of +Thessaly, of whom he inquires, in relation to the issue of the combat. +With the ordinary preliminaries, charms, and incantations, the necromancer +conjures up the ghost of a soldier, who had recently fallen in battle. At +length, she pronounces a denunciation, between which and the prediction of +the witch of Endor, delivered to Saul, the resemblance is certainly +remarkable.</p> + +<p>The laws of France, in the time of Louis XIV., were extremely rigorous, +against sorcery and divination, inflicting the severest penalties, upon +all, who pretended to exercise their skill, in these worse than +unprofitable mysteries. Nevertheless, an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_671" id="Page_671">[Pg 671]</a></span> extraordinary story is related, +in the autobiography of Madame Du Barri, as communicated to her, by Louis +XV., of several visits stealthily paid, by Louis XIV., and Madame de +Maintenon, to a celebrated judicial astrologer, in Paris. This narrative +may be found recorded, at length, in the first volume of Madame Du Barri’s +Memoirs, commencing on page 286.</p> + +<p>The age of Louis XIV. was an age of superstition. An Italian priest, a +secret professor of the art of necromancy, was induced, upon the King’s +promise of protection, against the parliament, in the event of a +discovery, to satisfy the royal curiosity, and open the book of fate. At +the hour appointed, being midnight, Madame de Maintenon and the <i>Duc de +Noailles</i> were conveyed to a house in Sevrès, where they met the sorcerer, +who had celebrated the mass alone, and consecrated several wafers. After +performing a variety of ceremonies, he drew the horoscope of the King, and +Madame de Maintenon. He promised the King, that he should succeed, in all +his undertakings. He then gave his Majesty a parcel, wrapped in new +parchment, and carefully sealed, saying to the King—“the day, in which +you form the fatal resolution of acquainting yourself with the contents of +this package, will be the last of your prosperity; but, if you desire to +carry your good fortune to the highest pitch, be careful, upon every great +festival, Easter, Whitsunday, the Assumption, and Christmas, to pierce +this talisman with a pin; do this, and be happy.”</p> + +<p>Certain events confirmed the sorcerer’s predictions—others gave them the +lie direct. The royal confidence was shaken.</p> + +<p>Upon one occasion, the Bishop of Meaux, the great Bossuet, chanced to be + +at the apartments of Madame de Maintenon; and the subject of magic and +sorcery being introduced, the good Bishop expressed himself, with such +abhorrence of the profanation, as effectually to stir up a sentiment of +compunction, in the bosom of the King and Madame. At length, they +disclosed the secret to their confessors, to whom the most effectual means +of breaking the charm appeared to be, to break open the talismanic +package; and this was accordingly imposed, as a penance, on the King.</p> + +<p>His sacred Majesty was thus painfully placed, <i>inter cornua</i>, or, as we +trivially say, between hawk and buzzard—between the priest and the +sorcerer. His good sense, if not his devotion, prevailed. The package was +torn open, in the presence of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_672" id="Page_672">[Pg 672]</a></span> Madame de Maintenon, and father la Chaise. +It contained a consecrated wafer, pierced with as many holes, as there had +been saints’ days in the calendar, since it had been in the King’s +possession. That consternation fell upon the King, which becomes a good +Catholic, when he believes, that he has committed sacrilege. He was long +disordered, by the recollection, and all, that masses and starvation could +avail, to purge the offence, was cheerfully submitted to, by the King. +Louis XV. closes this farcical account, with a grave averment, that his +ancestor, after this, lost as many male descendants, in the right line, as +he had stuck pins, in the holy wafer. There may, possibly, be some little +consolation, in the reflection, that, if the private history of Louis le +Grand be entitled to any credit, like Charles the Second of England, he +could well afford the sacrifice—of whom Butler pleasantly remarks—</p> + +<p class="poem">“Go on, brave Charles, and if thy back,<br /> +As well as purse, but hold thee tack,<br /> +Most of thy realm, in time, the rather<br /> +Than call thee king, shall call thee father.”</p> + +<p>The Millennarians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries—and these +enthusiasts are, by no means, of modern origin—may be said to have +hunted, in company with the judicial astrologers. Herlicius and the +Millennarians solemnly predicted the destruction of the Turkish Empire, in +1665, the one relying upon the aspect of the stars, and the other upon +their fantastical interpretation of the Scriptures; and both, in all +likelihood, chiefly, upon the good sword and stubborn will of the Emperor; +who, to their infinite disappointment and mortification, finally made +peace with the Ottomans. Yet David Herlicius was no impostor, or if so, +there was no greater dupe to his astrological doctrines than himself. He +was a learned, pious, and honest man.</p> + +<p>There is, probably, no more extensively popular error, than that a +deceiver must possess, on all occasions, a greater measure of knowledge +than the deceived. Herlicius was an eminent physician; and Bayle says of +him, vol. vi. page 137—“One can hardly imagine why a man, who had so much +business, in the practice of physic, and who never had any children, +should fear to want bread in his old age, unless he drew horoscopes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_673" id="Page_673">[Pg 673]</a></span>This eminent man had doubtless some little misgivings, as to the +infallibility of the art, after the failure of his prediction, in relation +to the Ottomans. Bayle recites an extract of a letter, from Herlicius to a +friend, in which the writer says: “Oh that fortune would look kindly upon +me! that, without meddling with those astrological trifles, I might make +provision for old age, which threatens me with blindness; and I would +never draw any horoscope. In the mean time, when a great many persons +inquire for, and desire to know more things, than are within the compass +of our art, or more than it can explain, I choose rather to act with +conscience, than to disgrace, and, as it were, to defile, our sacred +Astrology, and to cast a blemish upon it. For our art abounds with a great +number of Chaldean superstitions, which several of our countrymen are +still obstinately fond of. A great many ask me what color of clothes and +horses will be lucky for them? Sometimes I laugh heartily, at these and +other such absurd questions, but I do also often abhor them. For I am +enamored with the virgin state of our art, nor can I suffer that it should +be so abominably defiled, as to give the enemies of astrology an +opportunity to object to us those abuses, to the contempt of the art +itself.”</p> + +<p>At the period, when Herlicius unfortunately predicted the destruction of +the Ottoman power, Judicial Astrology was in the highest favor in England. +The date of the prediction, 1665, was the sixth year of Charles the +Second. Whatever space remained, unoccupied by other follies, during the +reign of the Stuarts, and even during the interregnum, was filled by the +preposterous doctrines of Judicial Astrology. It is perfectly well +established, that Charles the First, when meditating his escape from +Carisbrook castle, in 1647, consulted the famous astrologer, Sir William +Lilly.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h2><a name="No_CLX" id="No_CLX"></a>No. CLX.</h2> + + +<p>Isabel, Countess of Warwick, 1439—“My body is to be buried, in the Abbey +of Tewksbury; and I desire, that my great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_674" id="Page_674">[Pg 674]</a></span> Templys<a name='fna_19' id='fna_19' href='#f_19'><small>[19]</small></a> with the Baleys<a name='fna_20' id='fna_20' href='#f_20'><small>[20]</small></a> +be sold to the utmost, and delivered to the monks of that house, so that +they grutched not my burial there. Also I will that my statue be made, all +naked, with my hair cast backwards, according to the design and model, +which Thomas Porchalion<a name='fna_21' id='fna_21' href='#f_21'><small>[21]</small></a> has, for that purpose, with Mary Magdalen +laying her hand across, and St. John the Evangelist on the right side, and +St. Anthony on the left.” The singularity of this provision would lead one +to believe that the testatrix made her will, under the influence of St. +Anthony’s fire.</p> + +<p>John, Lord Fanhope, 1443—“To John, my bastard son, now at Ampthill, ccc. +marks; and, in case he should die, before he attain the age of twenty-one, +I will that Thomas, my other bastard son, shall have the said ccc. marks.”</p> + +<p>Henry Beaufort was the second son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, by +Katherine Swinford, a bastard born, but with his brothers and sister, +legitimated by act of Parliament, 20 Rich. II., became Bishop of Lincoln +1397—translated to Winchester, 1404, and made a Cardinal. He was +remarkable, for his immense wealth, prudence, and frugality. He was four +times Chancellor of England. He is reported to have clung to life with a +remarkable tenacity. Rapin says, he died for grief, that wealth could not +save him from death. The death bed of this Cardinal is admirably described +by Shakspeare, in the second part of King Henry VI., Act III., Scene III.:</p> + +<table style="margin-left: 15%;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td valign="top"><i>K. Henry.</i></td> + <td>How fares my lord? Speak Beaufort to thy Sovereign.</td></tr> + +<tr><td valign="top"><i>Cardinal.</i></td> + <td>If thou be’st Death, I’ll give thee England’s treasure,<br /> +Enough to purchase such another island,<br /> +So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td> + <td align="center"><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td valign="top"><i>Warwick.</i></td> + <td>See how the pangs of death do make him grin.</td></tr> + +<tr><td valign="top"><i>Salisbury.</i></td> + <td>Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.</td></tr> + +<tr><td valign="top"><i>K. Henry.</i></td> + <td>Peace to his soul, if God’s good pleasure be!<br /> +Lord Cardinal, if think’st on Heaven’s bliss,<br /> +Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.<br /> +He dies, and makes no sign; Oh God forgive him!</td></tr> + +<tr><td valign="top"><i>Warwick.</i></td> + <td>So bad a death argues a monstrous life.</td></tr> + +<tr><td valign="top"><i>K. Henry.</i></td> + <td>Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all—<br /> +Close up his eyes, and draw the curtains close.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The Cardinal’s will, though without date, was made about 1443.—“I will +that ten thousand masses be said for my soul,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_675" id="Page_675">[Pg 675]</a></span> as soon as possible after +my decease, three thousand of requiem, three thousand of <i>de rorate +cœli desuper</i>, three thousand of the Holy Ghost, and one thousand of +the Trinity. * * * * Item, I bequeath to my Lord, King Henry, a tablet +with reliques, which is called the tablet of Bourbon, and a cup of gold +with a ewer, which belonged to the illustrious prince, his father, and +offered by him on Easter Eve, and out of which cup he usually drunk, and +for the last time drank. * * * * Item, I bequeath to my Lord the King, my +dish or plate of gold for spices, and my cup of gold, enamelled with +images.”</p> + +<p>In two codicils to this will, Cardinal Beaufort refers to certain crown +jewels, and vessels of silver and gold, pledged to him by the King and +Parliament, for certain sums lent. When the King went into France and +Normandy, and upon other subsequent occasions, the Cardinal had loaned the +King £22,306 18<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> It appears in Rymer, vol. x. page 502, that the +King redeemed the sword of Spain and sundry jewels, pledged to the +Cardinal, for £493 6<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>John, Duke of Exeter, 1447—“I will that four honest and cunning priests +be provided, to pray perpetually every year, for my soul.” He then conveys +certain manors to his son Henry, “provided always, that an annuity of +<span class="smcaplc">XL</span><i>l.</i> be reserved for my two bastard sons, William and Thomas.”</p> + +<p>William Burges, garter King of Arms, 1449, bequeaths to the church of St. +George at Staunford—“to the seyd chirch for ther solempne feste dayes to +stand upon the high awter 11 grete basque of silver, and 11 high +candlesticks of sylver, 1 coupe of sylver, in the whych is one litel box +of yvory, to put in the blessid sacrament.” He also gives to said church +“two greter candelstykkes, and for eiche of these candelstykkes to be +ordayned a taper of waxe of 1 pound wight, and so served, to be lighted +atte dyvyne servyce at pryncipal fest dayes, and al other solempne festes, +as, at matyns, pryme, masse, and the yeven songs.”</p> + +<p>John, Lord Scrope, 1451—“To the altar, in the chapel of St. Mary, at +York, a jewel, with a bone of St. Margaret, and <span class="smcaplc">XL</span><i>s.</i> for ringing their +bells, at my funeral.”</p> + +<p>Ann, Duchess of Exeter, 1457—“I forbid my executors to make any great +feast, or to have a solemn hearse, or any costly lights, or largess of +liveries according to the glory or vain pomp of the world, at my funeral, +but only to the worship of God, after the discretion of Mr. John +Pynchebeke, Doctor of Divinity.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_676" id="Page_676">[Pg 676]</a></span>Edmund Brudenell, 1457—“To Agmondesham Church; to the Provosts of the +Church for the maintenance of the great light before the cross <span class="smcaplc">XX</span><i>s.</i> To +the maintenance of the light before St. Katherine’s Cross, <span class="smcaplc">III</span><i>s.</i> <span class="smcaplc">IV</span><i>d.</i>”</p> + +<p>John Younge, 1458—“To the fabrick of the Church of Herne, viz., to make +seats, called puyinge, <span class="smcaplc">X.</span> marks.”</p> + +<p>John Sprot, Clerk, 1461—“To each of my parishioners <span class="smcaplc">XL</span><i>d.</i>”</p> + +<p>The passion for books, merely because of their antique rarity, and not for +their intrinsic value, is not less dangerous, for the pursuer, than that, +for collecting rare animals, and forming a private menagerie, at vast +expense. Even the entomologist has been known to diminish the comforts of +his family, by investing his ready money in rare and valuable bugs. It has +been pleasantly said of him,</p> + +<p class="poem">“He leaves his children, when he dies,<br /> +The richest cabinet of flies.”</p> + +<p>There is no doubt, that, in those superstitious days, the traffic in +relics must have been a source of very great profit to the priests; equal, +at least, to the traffic in <i>ancient terra cottas</i>, in the days of +Nollekens. The sleeves of those crafty friars could not have been large +enough, to hold their laughter, at the expense of the faithful. The heir +apparent, whose grief, for the death of his ancestor, was sufficiently +subdued, by his refreshing anticipations of some thousands of marks in +ready money, must have been somewhat startled, upon the reading of the +will, to find himself residuary legatee, <i>for life</i>, of the testator’s +“reliques, remainder over to the Carthusian Friars!”</p> + +<p>Such, and similar, things were of actual occurrence. William Haute, +Esquire, made his will, May 9, 1462, of course, in the reign of Edward the +Fourth. This worthy gentleman ordains—“My body to be buried, in the +Church of the Augustine Friars, before the image of St. Catherine, between +my wives. * * * * I bequeath one piece of that stone, on which the +Archangel Gabriel descended, when he saluted the Blessed Virgin Mary, to +the image of the Blessed Virgin Mary of the Church of Bourne, the same to +stand under the foot of the said image. I bequeath one piece of the bone +of St. Bartholomew to the Church of Waltham. One piece of the hair cloth +of St. Catherine, the Virgin, and a piece of the bone of St. Nicholas, to +the Church of the Augustine Friars aforesaid. I bequeath all the remainder +of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_677" id="Page_677">[Pg 677]</a></span> my relicks to my son William, <i>for life</i>, with remainder to the +Augustine Friars forever.”</p> + +<p>Humphrey, Earl of Devon, 1463—“I will, that Mr. Nicholas Goss and Mr. +Watts, Warden of the Grey Friars, at Exeter, shall, for the salvation of +my soul, go to every Parish Church, in the Counties of Dorset, Somerset, +Wilts, Devon, and Cornwall, and say a sermon, in every Church, town, or +other; and as I cannot recompense such as I have offended, I desire them +to forgive my poor soul, that it be not endangered.”</p> + +<p>William, Earl of Pembroke, 1469—“In nomine Jesu, &c. And wyfe, that ye +remember your promise to me, that ye take the ordre of widowhood, as ye +may the better mayster your owne * * * * Wyfe pray for me, and take the +said ordre, that ye promised me, as ye had, in my lyfe, my hert and love.” +This lady, who was the daughter of Sir Walter Devereux, observed her vow, +and died the widow of the Earl; which is the more remarkable, as these +injunctions have often produced an opposite effect, and abbreviated the +term of continency.</p> + +<p>Sir Harry Stafford, Kt., 1471—“To my son-in-law, the Earl of Richmond, a +trappur, four new horse harness of velvet; to my brother, John, Earl of +Wiltshire, my bay courser; to Reynold Bray, my Receiver General, my +grizzled horse.”</p> + +<p>Cecilia Lady Kirriel, 1472—“In my pure widowhood, &c. To John Kirriel, +bastard, &c.”</p> + +<p>It is not unusual for the consciences of men, in a dying hour, to clutch, +for security, at the veriest straws. It is instructive to consider the +evidences, exhibited in these ancient testaments, of superfluous +compunction. Sir Walter Moyle, Knt., 1479, directs his feoffees “to make +an estate, in two acres of land, more or less, lying in the parish of +Estwell, in a field called Calinglond, and deliver the same, in fee +simple, to three or four honest men, to the use and behoof of the Church +of Estwell aforesaid, in recompense of a certain annual rent of £2 of wax, +by me wrested and detained from the said Church, against my conscience.”</p> + +<p>It was not unusual, to appoint overseers, to have an eye upon executors; a +provision, which may not be without its advantages, occasionally, even in +these days of more perfect morality, and higher law. Sir Ralph Verney, +Knt., 1478, appoints four executors, and “my trewe lover, John Browne, +Alderman of London, to be one of the <i>overseers</i> of this my present +testament, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_678" id="Page_678">[Pg 678]</a></span> to have a remembrance upon my soul, one of my cups, +covered with silver gilt.”</p> + +<p>Monks and Friars were pleasant fellows in the olden time, and Nuns are not +supposed to have been without their holy comforts. Landseer’s fine picture +of Bolton Abbey is a faithful illustration. The fat of the land, when +offered to idols, has commonly been eaten up by deputy. However shadowy +and attenuated the souls of their humble and confiding tributaries, the +carcasses of abbots are commonly represented as superlatively fat and +rubicund.</p> + +<p>Bequests and devises to Lights and Altars were very common. Eustace +Greville, Esquire, 1479, bequeaths “to the Light of the Blessed Mary, in +the said Church of Wolton, three pounds of wax in candles and two torches; +to the Altar of the Blessed Mary in the said church, one bushel of wheat +and as much of barley; and to the Lights of the Holy Cross there one +bushel of barley and as much of beans; and the same to the Light of St. +Katherine there.”</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">FINIS.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_679" id="Page_679">[Pg 679]</a></span></p> +<h2>DUST TO DUST.</h2> + + +<p>In utter disregard of all precedent, I have placed this dedication at the +end of the volume, deeming it meet and right, that the corpse should go +before.</p> + +<p>How very often the publication of a ponderous tome has been found to +resemble the interment of a portly corpse! How truly, ere long, it may be +equally affirmed, of both—the places, that knew them, shall know them no +more!</p> + +<p>Mæcenas was the friend and privy counsellor of Augustus Cæsar; and, +accordingly, became, in some measure, the dispenser of executive +patronage. The name of Mæcenas has been employed, ever since, to signify a +patron of letters and the arts. Dedications are said to have been coeval +with the days of his power.</p> + +<p>In almost every case, a dedication is neither more nor less, than an +application for convoy, from the literary mariner, who is scarcely willing +to venture, with his fragile bark, “<i>in mare Creticum</i>” or <i>criticum</i>, +unaided and alone. He solicits permission to dedicate his work to some +distinguished individual—in other words, to place his influential name, +upon the very front of the volume, as an amulet—a sort of passover—to +keep evil spirits and critics, at a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_680" id="Page_680">[Pg 680]</a></span> distance. If the permission be +granted, of which the public is sure to be informed, the presumption, that +the patron has read and approved the work, amounts to a sanction, of +course, to the extent of his credit and authority. In some cases, however, +I have reason to believe, that the only part of the work, which the patron +ever reads, is the dedication itself. That most amiable and excellent man, +and high-minded bibliopolist, the late Mr. <span class="smcap">James Brown</span>, informed me, that +an author once requested permission, to dedicate his work, to a certain +professor, in the State of New York, tendering the manuscript, for his +perusal; and that the professor declined reading the work, as superfluous; +but readily accepted the dedication, observing, that he usually received +five dollars, on such occasions.</p> + +<p>There was one, to whom it would afford me real pleasure to dedicate this +volume, were he here, in the flesh; but he has gone to his account. +<span class="smcap">Grossman</span> is numbered with the dead!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Reader</span>—if you can lay your hand upon your heart, and honestly say, that +you have read these pages, or any considerable portion of them, with +pleasure—that they have afforded you instruction, or amusement—I +dedicate this volume—with your permission, of course—most respectfully, +to you; having conceived the most exalted opinion of your taste and +judgment.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">L. M. SARGENT,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><span class="smcap">Rock Hill, December, 1855</span>.</span></p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_681" id="Page_681">[Pg 681]</a></span></p> +<p class="title">GENERAL INDEX.</p> + +<p class="center">The figures refer to the numbers—not to the pages.</p> + +<p> +<span class="huge">A.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Abner</span>, cautioned by his father, as to his behavior to aged people, 1.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Adams</span>, John, anecdote of, 45:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—lines written under his name, in a lady’s album, 46.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Airs</span>, national, authorship of, <a href="#No_CVI">106</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Almsgiving</span>, 56.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ambassadors</span>, from U. S. A. to G. B. 73.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ancestry</span>, pride of, <a href="#No_CXVII">97</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Antiquaries</span>, sometimes malicious, <a href="#No_CXXVI">126</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Apothecaries</span>, in Boston—some notice of, <a href="#No_CXII">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Aristocracy</span>, of Boston—examples of, <a href="#No_XC">90</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—among the dead, 1.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Arms</span>, reversed, at military funerals, of great antiquity, 30.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Arnold</span>, Benedict, what made him a traitor, 87.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Arundines Cami</span>, <a href="#No_CXII">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Asclepiades</span>, of Prusa, his medical practice, <a href="#No_CXIV">114</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Astrologers</span>, Judicial, formerly part of a nobleman’s household, <a href="#No_CLVII">157</a>.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—False prediction of, in 1186. <a href="#No_CLVII">Ibid.</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Consulted by Louis XIV. and Madame de Maintenon, <a href="#No_CLIX">159</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Astrology</span>, Judicial, Q. Elizabeth addicted to.—Much practised, in the middle ages, <a href="#No_CLVII">157</a>, <a href="#No_CLIX">159</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Avarice</span>, 31.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Avery</span>, steals three negroes:—attempts to sell them:—their rescue, 47.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Aymar</span>, James, a famous impostor, <a href="#No_CXIII">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Auctions</span>, various modes of:—by inch of candle:—by sand glass:—of fish among the Dutch:—various modes of notifying, and bidding at, <a href="#No_CXXXIX">139</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Auctioneer’s Bell</span>, used at the Hague:—formerly in Boston, <a href="#No_CXXXIX">139</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">B.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Babylonians</span>, their mode of obtaining husbands, for homely women, <a href="#No_CXV">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Bachelors</span> punished by the Lacedemonians for their celibacy:—not trusted with affairs of state at Athens, <a href="#No_CXV">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Barbers</span>, <a href="#No_CXL">140</a>, <a href="#No_CXLI">141</a>, <a href="#No_CXLII">142</a>, <a href="#No_CXLIII">143</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—their antiquity, <a href="#No_CXL">140</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—formerly peripatetics, <a href="#No_CXLI">141</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—their shops and poles, <a href="#No_CXLI">141</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—female, <a href="#No_CXLI">141</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—their citternes and “knack with the fingers,” <a href="#No_CXLII">142</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Baptism</span>, vicarious, <a href="#No_CIX">109</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Baths</span>, ancient, <a href="#No_CXIV">114</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Battel</span>, wager of, <a href="#No_CXLV">145</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Beards</span>, habits of the ancients, respecting, <a href="#No_CXL">140</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—modern, <a href="#No_CXLII">142</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—dyeing them an ancient practice, <a href="#No_CXLII">142</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Belknap</span>, Jeremy, Rev. 47:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—his desire for a sudden death, 75:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—regard for historical truth, 75:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—error, as to Gosnold, 75.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Bells</span>, and bell ringing:—weight of several:—a terror to “evill spirytes,” 37.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Benevolence</span>, remarkable example of, 55.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Bentham</span>, Jeremy, dissected by his own request, 8.<br /> +<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Bleed and purge</span> all Kensington,” <a href="#No_CXI">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Bodies</span>, posthumous preservation of, 20.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Bodkin</span>, the famous root and herb doctor, <a href="#No_CIX">109</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Boiling to death</span>, a mode of punishment, <a href="#No_CLI">151</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Boodle</span>, William, his self-conceit, 49.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Boorn</span>, Stephen and Jesse, remarkable case of erroneous conviction, on circumstantial evidence, 79 to 85, both inclusive.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Borri</span>, Joseph Francis, a famous impostor, <a href="#No_CXIII">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Bradford</span>, Sheriff, anecdote of, 5.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Brocklebank</span>, Parson, anecdote of, 49.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Burial</span>, joint stock companies, 58:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—their profits enormous, 58:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—of weapons, by the slaves, at Charleston, 34.</span><br /> +<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Bring out your dead</span>,” 27.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Buchanan</span>, James, his errors, in relation to Major André, corrected, 19.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Burke and Bishop</span>, executed, for murder, with intent to sell the bodies, 7.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Burying the dead</span>, manner of, commended, 21:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—in cities and under churches, objections to, 10, 11, 60, 61:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—manner of, and practices, connected therewith, in different ages and nations, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 21, 30, 38, <a href="#No_XCVI">96</a>, <a href="#No_CI">101</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—premature, 15, <a href="#No_XCI">91</a>, <a href="#No_XCV">95</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—means for preventing, <a href="#No_XCI">91</a>, <a href="#No_XCV">95</a>.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_682" id="Page_682">[Pg 682]</a></span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Bull John</span>, and brother Jonathan, <a href="#No_CIV">104</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—John, the musician, author of “God save the King,” <a href="#No_CVI">106</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Byles</span>, Mather, anecdotes of, <a href="#No_XCIII">93</a>, <a href="#No_XCIV">94</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">C.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Cades</span>, sexton, how he lost his office, 44.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">California</span> fever, 31.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Campbell</span>, hung for killing Boyd in a duel, <a href="#No_CXLV">145</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Campbell</span>, Captain, steals an heiress, <a href="#No_CXV">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Candles</span>, burnt in the day, at a church, in Nantucket, 24:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—of wax, at Popish funerals, in old times, 2.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—by inch of, ancient mode of selling at auction, <a href="#No_CXXXIX">139</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Caner</span>, Rev. Dr., some notice of, 78.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Capital punishment</span>, 50, 51, 53, 54, 57, 89.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Capital offences</span>, in Massachusetts, in 1618, 62.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Carter</span>, sexton, insulted by a chirurgeon, 43.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Catacombs</span>, 10:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—of Paris, 12, 13.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Catafalque</span>, its import, <a href="#No_CIII">103</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Chadwick</span>, Edwin, his report on interments, to the British Parliament, 58.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Chapel</span>, King’s, some account of, 78.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Charles I.</span> funeral of, 39:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—his body discovered, in 1813, 40:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—V. legend of his mock funeral, denied, <a href="#No_XCIX">99</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Children</span>, female, destruction of, in China, and elsewhere, 29.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Chinese</span>, habits of the, <a href="#No_CI">101</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Chuang-tsze</span>, story of, <a href="#No_CXIX">119</a>, <a href="#No_CXX">120</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Clarendon</span>, in error, as to the burial place of King Charles I. 40.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Clarke</span>, Barnabas, anecdote of, <a href="#No_XC">90</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Clark</span>, Alvan, his versatility of talent, 46.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Clay</span>, Henry, his frequent leavetakings, <a href="#No_XCIX">99</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Cobbett</span>, William, his letter to Lord Liverpool, on the American triumphs, <a href="#No_CIV">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Congress</span>, American, Lord Chatham’s opinion of, <a href="#No_CIV">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Courage</span>, personal, externals no sure criterion of—two remarkable examples, <a href="#No_CXLIX">149</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Conscience parties</span>, 29.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Corday, Charlotte</span> de, an interesting question, connected with her decapitation, <a href="#No_CLIII">153</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Cremation</span>, cost of—least expensive mode, excepting the urns, 74:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—of Henry Laurens, <a href="#No_XCV">95</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—of Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley:—their diet in prison, 74.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Criminals</span>, how to dispose of, 89:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—bodies of, delivered for dissection, 7:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—number waiting to be hung, 51.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Cromwell</span>, Oliver, various estimates of his character:—views and handles the dead body of Charles I.:—his funeral:—his body dug up, and hung, at Tyburn, 39.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Crucifixion</span>, <a href="#No_CLI">151</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">D.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Daddy Osgood</span>, sold at auction, <a href="#No_CXXXIX">139</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Danforth</span>, Dr. Samuel, notice of, <a href="#No_CXI">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Deacons</span>, their dispute about a tomb, 11.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dead Sea</span>, some account of, 35, 36.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Death</span>, certain evidence of, <a href="#No_XCI">91</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—condition of the soul, after, <a href="#No_XCVI">96</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—imitation of, <a href="#No_CXXXVII">137</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—by shipwreck, <a href="#No_CII">102</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dentists</span>, in Boston, some notice of, <a href="#No_CXII">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Desecration</span>, of the dead, 14, 21, 23.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dickson</span>, provost of Dundee, his epitaph, 9.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Diedrick Van Pronk’s</span> widow, anecdote of, 7.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Digby</span>, Everard, account of his having spoken, after the removal of his heart, <a href="#No_CLIII">153</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dinah Furbush</span>, her corpse insulted, 77.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Diogenes</span>, anecdote of, 4.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Distillers</span>, in Boston, number of, <a href="#No_CXII">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Divination</span>, some account of, <a href="#No_CLVII">157</a>, <a href="#No_CLVIII">158</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Divining rod</span>, of James Aymar, <a href="#No_CXIII">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Don’t go</span> too near that hedge,” <a href="#No_XCI">91</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dreams</span>, of Martin Smith and King’s Chapel, by the Old Sexton, 76, 77, 78.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Drunkenness</span>, at ordinations, 37.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dryden</span>, John, disturbance at his funeral, <a href="#No_CXVIII">118</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Duels</span>, between Benjamin Woodbridge and Henry Phillips, on Boston Common, <a href="#No_CXXXIII">133 to 136</a>, both inclusive:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—various, <a href="#No_CXLIV">144 to 149</a>, both inclusive:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—punishment of, <a href="#No_CXLV">145</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—number killed in, <a href="#No_CXLV">145</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Decatur and Barron, <a href="#No_CXLVI">146</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Lord Bruce and Sir Edward Sackville, <a href="#No_CXLVII">147</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Lords Mohun and Hamilton, <a href="#No_CXLVII">147</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Sheridan and Matthews, <a href="#No_CXLVII">147</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—M’keon and Reynolds, <a href="#No_CXLVII">147</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Campbell and Boyd, <a href="#No_CXLVII">147</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Colclough and Alcock, <a href="#No_CXLVII">147</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—David and Goliath, <a href="#No_CXLVII">147</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Titus Manlius and the Gaul, <a href="#No_CXLVIII">148</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Hector and Ajax, <a href="#No_CXLVIII">148</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Turnus and Æneas, <a href="#No_CXLVIII">148</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Rauber and a Spanish gentleman, <a href="#No_CXLVIII">148</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Cameron, and McLean, <a href="#No_CXLVIII">148</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Lord Mark Kerr and a French Colonel, <a href="#No_CXLIX">149</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Joseph Bainbridge and the Secretary of Sir Alexander Ball, <a href="#No_CXLIX">149</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Rand and Millar, <a href="#No_CLIII">153</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dugdale</span>, Sir William, the antiquary, <a href="#No_CLV">155</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dyonisius</span>, to save his throat, taught his daughters to shave, <a href="#No_CXL">140</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">E.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Effigies</span> of the dead, made of cinnamon, and carried in the procession, 30.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Egyptians</span>, trials of their kings, after death, 5:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—every Egyptian a doctor, <a href="#No_CVII">107</a>.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_683" id="Page_683">[Pg 683]</a></span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Eli</span>, the sexton, his hallucinations, 55.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Eliot</span>, Rev. Andrew, gloves and rings, given him at funerals, and the sale of, 28.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Embalming</span>, process of, 4.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Empirics</span>, <a href="#No_CIX">109</a>, <a href="#No_CX">110</a>, <a href="#No_CXI">111</a>, <a href="#No_CXIII">113</a>, <a href="#No_CXIV">114</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Epitaphs</span>, 5, 9.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Estimate of Americans</span> by the English people, in 1775 and 1812, <a href="#No_CIV">104</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Evidence</span>, circumstantial, remarkable examples of, 79 to 85, both inclusive:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Webster’s case, 86.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Execution</span>, in Ballyconnel, 54.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">F.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Fakeer</span>, East India, account of his apparent death, and resurrection, <a href="#No_CXXXVII">137</a>, <a href="#No_CXXXVIII">138</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Famine</span>, Keayne’s granary in case of, <a href="#No_CXII">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Faneuil Hall</span>, origin of:—burnt:—rebuilt and enlarged, <a href="#No_CXXX">130</a>, <a href="#No_CXXXI">131</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Faneuil Peter</span>, and his relatives, some account of, <a href="#No_CXXII">122 to 132</a>, both inclusive:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—aids Henry Phillips, to escape, after his fatal duel, with Woodbridge, <a href="#No_CXXXIV">134</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Food</span> for ghosts, 25.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Fortune-hunters</span>, remarkable disappointment of one, <a href="#No_CXV">115</a>, <a href="#No_CXVI">116</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Franklin</span>, Benjamin, his account of the resurrection of flies, drowned in wine, <a href="#No_CXXXVIII">138</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—his letter to Thomas Percival, on duelling, <a href="#No_CXLIV">144</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">—Sir John, probably lost, <a href="#No_CLIV">154</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Freeman</span>, Dr., manner of his ordination, 78.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Friendships</span>, rarely lifelong:—examples of, 59:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Cicero’s first law of, 59.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Frizzell’s bell</span>, 37.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Funerals</span>, invitations to, 8:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—baked meats at:—games, and festivals at, 25.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">G.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Gifts</span>, New Year’s, <a href="#No_CXVII">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Gloves</span> and rings, at funerals, 28.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Gosnold</span>, Bartholomew, his abode, at Cuttyhunk, 75.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Governor</span> of Mass., anecdote of a, 52.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Granny</span>, anecdote of skinning, 58.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Grossman</span> threatened to be shot, 13.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Guillotin</span>, Dr. <a href="#No_CLI">151</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—the instrument that bears his name, <a href="#No_CLI">151</a>, <a href="#No_CLII">152</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">H.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hair</span>, management of the, <a href="#No_CXLIII">143</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Halley</span>, Thomas, great pomp, and much guzzling, at his funeral, 25.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Halifax gibbet</span> and the guillotine identical, <a href="#No_CLI">151</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Handel</span>, rivalry, between him, and Senesino, and Buononeini, <a href="#No_CV">105</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Swift’s epigram, on their squabbles, <a href="#No_CV">105</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hanging</span>, sensations produced by, <a href="#No_XCV">95</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—vicarious, <a href="#No_CL">150</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—persons differently moved, in prospect of, <a href="#No_CL">150</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hanway</span>, Sir Jonas, his account of the practice of giving vales, 28.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Happiness</span>, 48.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hastæ</span>, why auctions were so called, at Rome, <a href="#No_CXXXIX">139</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hawes</span>, Dr. William, his work on premature interment, <a href="#No_XCV">95</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Heiress</span>, stealing an, made felony:—remarkable examples of, <a href="#No_CXV">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Henry VIII.</span> bone stolen from his corpse, 39:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—some account of his funeral, <a href="#No_CIII">103</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Herse</span>, ancient import of the word, <a href="#No_CIII">103</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hook</span>, Theodore, anecdote of, 24.<br /> +<br /> +“<span class="smcap">How</span> could the poor Abbé sustain himself against you all four?” <a href="#No_CXIII">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Howlers</span>, at funerals, ancient and modern, 32, 38.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Huguenots</span>, in Boston:—their early settlement, in Oxford, Mass. <a href="#No_CXXII">122</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—their church in Boston, <a href="#No_CXXII">122</a>, <a href="#No_CXXIII">123</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">I.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Idleness</span>, effects of, 22.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Infanticide</span>, 29.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Innholders</span>, in Boston, number of, <a href="#No_CXII">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Intolerance</span>, in Massachusetts, 62.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">J.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">James II.</span>, his gallantry, when Duke of York, in a sea-fight, 66.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Jews</span> usurious, 15,000 banished, 52.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Je</span> vous sauter le tête, <a href="#No_CLI">151</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">L.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Laceration</span>, of the cheeks and hair, at funerals, in Greece, Rome, and elsewhere, 30, 32, 38.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Largesses</span> at funerals, 25.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Laurens</span>, Henry, his body burnt, after death, by his request, <a href="#No_XCV">95</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lawyers</span>, in Boston, their number at different periods, <a href="#No_CXII">112</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Le Mercier</span>, André, minister of the Huguenots, in Boston, <a href="#No_CXXXII">132</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Levi</span>, M. de, his pride of ancestry, <a href="#No_XCVII">97</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Liberty Tree</span>, 41, 42.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Philip Billes devises his estate, on condition of being buried under that tree, 42.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Licinius</span>, P., games, &c., at his funeral, 25.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lilly</span>, Sir William, the astrologer, notice of, <a href="#No_CLVII">157</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lind</span>, Jenny, some account of, <a href="#No_CV">105</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lloyd</span>, Dr. James, his appearance, <a href="#No_CXI">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Localities</span>, certain interesting, 7.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Longevity</span>, some examples of, 45.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lot’s wife</span>, pillar of salt, &c., 35, 36:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—seen by Irenæuis and others, after she was salted, 36.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Louis XVI.</span>, brutal behaviour of the French people, at his execution, <a href="#No_CLII">152</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lovat</span>, Lord, his repartee, on his way to be hung, <a href="#No_CL">150</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ludii, Histriones, Scurræ</span>, 30.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Luxury</span>, ever injurious, and often fatal, to Republics, 87, 88.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lyman</span>, Theodore, notice of him, and his public and private charities, 56.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_684" id="Page_684">[Pg 684]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">M.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Marcus Flavius</span>, anecdote of, 25.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Marriages</span>, taxed:—first celebration of, in churches:—forbidden during Lent, <a href="#No_CXV">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mariner</span> bound for Africa, reaches Norway, 48.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Marshall</span>, Tommy, anecdote of, <a href="#No_XC">90</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Martyrs</span>, cremation of:—cost of burning Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, 24.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mashee</span>, Tooley, plays corpse, <a href="#No_CXXXVII">137</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">McPhee</span>, widow Nelly, anecdote of, 7.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Medicine</span>, origin of the practice of, <a href="#No_CVII">107</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—practice of, among the Babylonians, Greeks, Egyptians, Israelites, and Hindoos, <a href="#No_CVIII">108</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mediums</span>, some notice of, <a href="#No_CLVII">157</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mexican beggars</span>, how employed by Montezuma, <a href="#No_CXLII">142</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Milton</span>, John, his marriages, <a href="#No_XCVIII">98</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—writes in favor of polygamy, <a href="#No_XCVIII">98</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—desecration of his remains, <a href="#No_CXVIII">118</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mingling</span> the ashes of dear friends, in the same urn, practice of, 21.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ministers</span> of the Gospel, in Boston, in 1740, <a href="#No_CXXXII">132</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mirthfulness</span>, its advantages, <a href="#No_XCII">92</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Money</span>, George Herbert’s address to, 31.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Montgomery</span>, Gen. Richard, his exhumation, and reinterment, 18.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Monuments</span>, Dryden’s, Ben Jonson’s, and Cowley’s, mutilation of, <a href="#No_CXVIII">118</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mooncursers</span>, laws for their punishment:—anecdote of, <a href="#No_CII">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Moorhead</span>, Rev. John, some notice of, <a href="#No_XCIX">99</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Moses</span>, an apothecary, <a href="#No_CVII">107</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mourners</span>, their peculiar consolations, 32:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—for the year 1848, 33.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mourning</span>, time allowed for:—color of the vesture, in different countries, 32.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Irish, consists in the number of coaches and the quantity of whiskey, 74.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mule</span>, a bad one, 30.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">N.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Napoleon’s</span> last words, 31.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">New Year’s Day</span>, when, <a href="#No_CXVII">117</a>, <a href="#No_CXXIII">123</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">New North Church</span>, uproar there, 37.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">North Church</span>, peal of bells there, 37.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Nuisance</span>, affecting the air, not necessary to prove it noxious, 60.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">O.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Obsequies</span>, provisions for, by persons, while living, 7.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Otis</span>, James, anecdote of, <a href="#No_XC">90</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">P.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Parkman</span>, Dr. George, his murder:—his peculiarities, 72.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Penn</span>, William, reply to Macaulay’s abuse of:—memoir of, 62 to 71, both inclusive:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—death bed of his son, 71.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Percival</span>, Thomas, his work, on duelling, <a href="#No_CXLIV">144</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pere la Chaise</span>, 11.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pestilence</span>, numbers destroyed by, 27.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Philadelphians</span>, saved from being Welchmen, 68.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Physicians</span>, various schools of, named by Pliny, <a href="#No_CX">110</a>, <a href="#No_CXIV">114</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—number of the old Boston doctors, and their residences, <a href="#No_CXII">112</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pipers</span>, at funerals, 8.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pirates</span>, hung on Boston Common, 50.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pitcairn</span>, Major, the honor of killing him, claimed by many:—the remains, under Westminster Abbey, said to have been erroneously selected, from under the North Church, 17.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Plague</span>, some account of the, 27.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pliny</span>, in favor of herb doctoring, <a href="#No_CXIV">114</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Planter</span>, funeral of an old, in St. Croix, 30.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Polhamus</span>, the good Samaritan, 83.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pompadour</span>, Madame de, her remains transferred to the Catacombs, 13.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pontraci</span>, the prince of undertakers, 12.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Portland vase</span>, history of the, 20.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pride and Poverty</span>, excess of, dangerous, 87.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Punishment</span>, various kinds of, <a href="#No_CLI">151</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Punsters</span> habitual, nuisances, <a href="#No_XCIV">94</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pwan Yakoo</span>, and other Chinese, their visit to Boston:—description of her golden lilies, <a href="#No_CII">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">Q.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Quacks</span> of great use to sextons, 27.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Quakers</span>, persecution of, in Massachusetts, 62, 63.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">R.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rand</span>, Dr. Isaac, brief notice of, <a href="#No_CXI">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Razors</span>, their antiquity:—mentioned by Homer, Samuel, Ezekiel:—how sharpened:—of brass, <a href="#No_CXL">140</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—the best formerly from Palermo, <a href="#No_CXLII">142</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Recherches</span>, Historiques et Physiologiques sur la Guilotine, <a href="#No_CLII">152</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Relics</span>, traffic and jugglery in, by the priests, 17.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Republics</span>, extravagance fatal to, 87, 88.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Revenge</span> Church of Christ, 37.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Revival</span>, amusing example of, on the way to the grave, <a href="#No_XCI">91</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—of a child of Henry Laurens, which caused him to order his own corpse to be burnt, <a href="#No_XCV">95</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rochefoucault</span>, maxim erroneously ascribed to, 59.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Roman Catholics</span>, persecution of, in Massachusetts, 29.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ross</span>, Sir John, his residence, in the Arctic regions:—discovery of him and his company, <a href="#No_CLIV">154</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rothschild</span>, Nathan Meyer, his funeral solemnities, 3.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rum</span>, mainspring of the slave trade in Massachusetts, 47.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Rush</span>, Dr. Benjamin, alluded to:—anecdote of, <a href="#No_CXI">111</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_685" id="Page_685">[Pg 685]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">S.</span><br /> +<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Sacred to the memory</span>”! 77.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Santa Cruz</span>, gross extortion there, from surviving friends, 16.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sansons</span>, the hereditary executioners of Paris, <a href="#No_CLI">151</a>, <a href="#No_CLII">152</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sayings</span>, of eminent men, in articulo, or just before death, <a href="#No_C">100</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Scotch Weaver’s Vanity</span>, 39.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Selwyn</span>, George, seldom absent from an execution, 50.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Seneca</span>, quotation from, 48.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sextons</span>, their office, its origin, and duties, of old:—their extortion, occasionally, in the hour of affliction, 16<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—their business much benefited by steam, 2.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Science</span>, some curious mistakes of, <a href="#No_CLIV">154</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Shays</span>, his insurrection, 29.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Shaving</span>, suggestions concerning, <a href="#No_CXL">140</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Shelley</span>, the poet, cremation of, 20.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Shipwrecks</span>, their number, <a href="#No_CII">102</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Slavery</span>, 34:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—in Boston, 43, 47:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—early attempts to abolish, in Massachusetts, 44:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—how and when abolished there, 47:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Slave trade, in Boston, 47.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Slaves</span>, example of their ingenuity, 34.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Smith</span>, Martin, sexton of King’s Chapel, his apparition to the sexton of the old school, 76, 77, 78.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Soldiers</span>, their sufferings, as statesmen, <a href="#No_C">100</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sons of Liberty</span>, some account of the, 41.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Southern States</span>, liberality to Boston, in 1774, 44.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Spartans</span>, their mode of selecting wives, <a href="#No_CXV">115</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Spider</span> and chambermaid, 29.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Spiritual knockings</span>, sometimes resulting in madness, and self-murder, <a href="#No_CLVII">157</a>, <a href="#No_CLVIII">158</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—remedy for, <a href="#No_CLVIII">158</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Stamp Act</span>, resolutions in Faneuil Hall, 58.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Steam</span>, of great benefit to sextons, 27.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sternhold and Hopkins</span>, their version of the Psalms gave place to that of Tate and Brady:—motive of Sternhold little suspected, <a href="#No_C">100</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Stonecutter</span>, anecdote of a, 6.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Style</span>, old and new, some account of, <a href="#No_CXVII">117</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Succession</span>, Apostolic, 78.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sumner</span>, Governor, funeral of, 39.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sumptuary laws</span>, some account of, 88.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Surgeons</span>, the earliest:—limited nature of their functions, <a href="#No_CVII">107</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—among the Israelites, <a href="#No_CVIII">108</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Suttees</span>, description of, 74.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Swans</span>, their musical power fabulous, <a href="#No_CV">105</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sweating sickness</span>, some account of, 27.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Swedenborg</span>, his notions of Heaven:—of the soul, <a href="#No_XCVI">96</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">T.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tallow chandler</span>, retired from business, anecdote of, 22.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tasman’s bowl</span>, used for conjuration, in Tongataboo, 38.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tea</span>, thrown overboard, 44.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tears</span>, power of shedding at will, 32.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Temperance</span> “has done for funerals,” 2.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tetotum doctor</span>, <a href="#No_CXI">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thatcher</span>, Rev. Peter, installation of, 37.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Three Cheers</span> for the elephant, 39.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tombs</span>, reasons for preferring graves:—outrage upon five, in Salem, Massachusetts, 13, 14.<br /> +<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Too heartily</span> of nutmegs,” <a href="#No_CIII">103</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tories</span>, their faith in the royal cause, <a href="#No_CXXV">125</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Treasures</span>, buried with the dead, 21.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Turenne</span>, singular fate of his remains, 23.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">U.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Urns</span>, funeral, forms, and materials of, 20:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—occasionally large enough to contain the mingled ashes of whole families, 21.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Usury</span>, some remarks on, 48, 52.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">V.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Vales</span>, practice of giving, 27.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Vanity</span>, illustration of, 49.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Viands</span>, deposited near the dead, 25.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Visceration</span> among the ancients, 25.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Voltaire</span>, his description of a Frenchman, <a href="#No_CLII">152</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">W.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Wade</span>, Sir Claude M. his account of the East India Fakeer, who was restored, after a suspension of consciousness, for six weeks, <a href="#No_CXXXVII">137</a>, <a href="#No_CXXXVIII">138</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Wager of battel</span>, the law of England, so late, as 1819, <a href="#No_CXLV">145</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Wakes</span>, their origin:—some account of, <a href="#No_XCI">91</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Warren</span>, Gen. Joseph, manner of discovering his remains:—the bullet, by which he was killed, in possession of the Montague family, 17.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Washington</span>, George, illustration of the reverence for his memory, in New England:—opinion of, by Lords Erskine and Brougham:—national neglect of his monument:—sale of some of his effects, 26.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Waterhouse</span>, Dr. Benjamin, anecdote of, <a href="#No_CXI">111</a>.<br /> +<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Weel then</span> sing as mony as there be,” <a href="#No_XCIX">99</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Webster</span>, Dr. John White, his trial for the murder of Dr. Parkman, 72:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—his case stated, at the close of, 89.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Weever’s</span> funeral monuments, 24.<br /> +<br /> +“<span class="smcap">What</span> that boy says is true,” <a href="#No_CXIII">113</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Widows</span>, Numa severe upon:—marrying within ten months accounted infamous, 32:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—unjustly censured, <a href="#No_XCVIII">98</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—“with the great fan,” <a href="#No_CXIX">119</a>.</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_686" id="Page_686">[Pg 686]</a></span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Wigs</span>, scratches, bobs, and full bottomed:—their antiquity, <a href="#No_CXLII">142</a>, <a href="#No_CXLIII">143</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—periwigs in N. England, <a href="#No_CXLII">142</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Roman, <a href="#No_CXLIII">143</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Wills, ancient</span>, <a href="#No_CLV">155</a>, <a href="#No_CLVI">156</a>, <a href="#No_CLX">160</a>:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—superstitious dread of making, <a href="#No_CLV">155</a>:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">—Andrew Faneuil’s, <a href="#No_CXXVII">127</a>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Witches</span>, their right to travel through the air, decided by Lord Mansfield, 29.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Woodbridge</span>, Benjamin, killed in a duel on Boston Common, <a href="#No_CXXXIII">133 to 137</a>: both inclusive.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Wraxall’s memoirs</span>, inaccurate, <a href="#No_CXLIX">149</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">Z.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Zisca</span>, John, anecdote of, 7.<br /> +</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_687" id="Page_687">[Pg 687]</a></span></p> +<p class="title">INDEX TO PROPER NAMES.</p> + +<p class="center">The figures refer to the pages—not to the numbers.</p> + + +<p class="index"> +<span class="huge">A.</span><br /> +<br /> +Abbeville, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Abbott, 112, 204.<br /> +<br /> +Abel, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Aberdeen, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Abner, 9, 13, 108, 172, 173, 197, 289.<br /> +<br /> +Absalom, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Achilles, 12, 17, 67, 107.<br /> +<br /> +Adam, 70, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Adams, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Adams, John, 142, 156, 157, 160, 275, 276, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Adams, John Q., 156, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Adams, Samuel, 142.<br /> +<br /> +Addison, 35, 38, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Admetus, 12.<br /> +<br /> +Adrian, <a href="#Page_584">584</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Æneas, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Æsculapius, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_667">667</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Affslager, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Africa, 33, 168, 435, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Africans, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Africanus, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Agamemnon, 17, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Agathias, 16.<br /> +<br /> +Agrigentum, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Agmondesham, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Agrippa, 261.<br /> +<br /> +Agrippa, Cornelius, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ahaziah, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Alaricus, 65.<br /> +<br /> +Albany, 38, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Alcock, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Aldgate, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Aldgrave, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Aleet Mong, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Alexander, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Allen, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Allwick, 69.<br /> +<br /> +Almotanah, 123.<br /> +<br /> +Almshouse, 24.<br /> +<br /> +Alvanley, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +America, 265, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ames, 91, <a href="#Page_630">630</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ammianus, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Amphytrion, 217, <a href="#Page_581">581</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Amoon, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Amory, 94.<br /> +<br /> +Amsterdam, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Anderson, 309.<br /> +<br /> +Andover, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>.<br /> +<br /> +André, 57 to 62, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Andrews, 24, 159.<br /> +<br /> +Andros, 298.<br /> +<br /> +Anecy, 56.<br /> +<br /> +Angouleme, 124.<br /> +<br /> +Anio, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Annan, 286.<br /> +<br /> +Anne Boleyn, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Annelly, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Anne of Cleves, 78, 81, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Anne, Queen, 186, 248, 262, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Antijacobin, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Antoninus, 67.<br /> +<br /> +Antony, <a href="#Page_579">579</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Antwerp, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Appleton, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Apthorp, 297.<br /> +<br /> +Arabian Nights, 269.<br /> +<br /> +Arabs, 119, 123.<br /> +<br /> +Aratus, 12.<br /> +<br /> +Archelaus, 102, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Archimimus, 98.<br /> +<br /> +Arcueil, 39, 42.<br /> +<br /> +Argiletum, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Aristotle, 186, 217, 218.<br /> +<br /> +Arkwright, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Arnaud, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Arnold, 62, 228, 338, 339, 340.<br /> +<br /> +Arundel, 157.<br /> +<br /> +Asa, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Aselepiades, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ashford, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ashmole Museum, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Asiatic Researches, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Athenæ Oxonienses, 133, 135, 136, 232, 248, 250, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Athens, 11, 88, 343, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Atherton, 30, 167.<br /> +<br /> +Atossa, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Atticus, 51, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Attleborough, 31.<br /> +<br /> +Auchterpool, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Augustines, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Augustus, 99, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Auld Reekie, 334.<br /> +<br /> +Aulus Gellius, 218.<br /> +<br /> +Austin, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Austria, 321.<br /> +<br /> +Austrians, <a href="#Page_539">539</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Auxerre, 220.<br /> +<br /> +Avery, 166, 167.<br /> +<br /> +Aviola, 49, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Avis, 92.<br /> +<br /> +Aymar, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Azotus, 33.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">B.</span><br /> +<br /> +Bacon, Roger, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bacon, Lord, 185, 188, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_641">641</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Babylon, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Babylonians, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Baiæ, 320.<br /> +<br /> +Bahar Loth, 123.<br /> +<br /> +Bailey, 246.<br /> +<br /> +Bainbridge, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Balch, 269, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Baldwin, 57, 181, 303, 311.<br /> +<br /> +Ball, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ballyconnel, 194.<br /> +<br /> +Ballymahon, 195.<br /> +<br /> +Ballyshannon, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Balmarino, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bancroft, 277.<br /> +<br /> +Banians, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Banks, 298, 424.<br /> +<br /> +Barataria, 123, 265.<br /> +<br /> +Barbaroux, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barbary, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Barbut, 29.<br /> +<br /> +Barcephas, 120.<br /> +<br /> +Barclay, 252.<br /> +<br /> +Barker, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barlow, 288, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barnes, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barnard, 24.<br /> +<br /> +Barra Durree, <a href="#Page_570">570</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barré, 140, 145, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barrington, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barron, <a href="#Page_608">608</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barrow, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_688" id="Page_688">[Pg 688]</a></span><br /> +Barrow’s Strait, <a href="#Page_645">645</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Barton, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>, <a href="#Page_563">563</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bartholomew, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bartholomew’s Eve, 93.<br /> +<br /> +Bassorah, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Bastile, 84.<br /> +<br /> +Bate, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Battenkill, 303.<br /> +<br /> +Baulny, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Baulston, 228.<br /> +<br /> +Baxter, 252.<br /> +<br /> +Bayard, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bayeaux, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bayle, 56, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bayley, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Baynton, <a href="#Page_516">516</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bay State, 163.<br /> +<br /> +Beattie, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Beauchamp, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Beaufort, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Beccaria, 207.<br /> +<br /> +Beckford, 145.<br /> +<br /> +Bedouin, 119.<br /> +<br /> +Beecher, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Belcher, 298.<br /> +<br /> +Belfast, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Belknap, 163 to 167, and 283 to 286, passim: <a href="#Page_368">368</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bellamont, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bellingham, 228, 229, 230.<br /> +<br /> +Belochus, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Belzoni, 33.<br /> +<br /> +Bengal, 281.<br /> +<br /> +Benin, 33.<br /> +<br /> +Bennington, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bentham, 27, 52, 176, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Benton, 159.<br /> +<br /> +Bergen-op-Zoom, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Berlin, 89.<br /> +<br /> +Bernon, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Berthier, 109.<br /> +<br /> +Bertrand, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bethune, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Beuoron, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bias, 217, 218.<br /> +<br /> +Bichat, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bildad, 217.<br /> +<br /> +Billes, 147.<br /> +<br /> +Biographia Brittanica, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bishop, 27, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Blackburn, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Black Prince, <a href="#Page_649">649</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Blackstone, 301.<br /> +<br /> +Blackwood’s Mag., 243.<br /> +<br /> +Blaisdell, 182, 183.<br /> +<br /> +Blanche, <a href="#Page_608">608</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Blin, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Blitheman, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Blitz, <a href="#Page_665">665</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Blundell, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boccacio, 218, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bodkin, 189, 190, 192, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bogle, 195.<br /> +<br /> +Boies, 159.<br /> +<br /> +Bolton Abbey, <a href="#Page_678">678</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bondet, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bonet, 49.<br /> +<br /> +Bonner, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_550">550</a>, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bonrepaux, 239, 240, 242.<br /> +<br /> +Boodle, 171, 172, 173.<br /> +<br /> +Boorn, 301 to 331, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Borri, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Borromeo, 220.<br /> +<br /> +Bose, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>, <a href="#Page_644">644</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bosius, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bosphorus, 22.<br /> +<br /> +Bosson, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bossuet, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boston, 66, 125, 151, 153, 165, 167, 179, 184, 191, 194, 210, 221, 223, 270, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boston Athen’m, 269, 324.<br /> +<br /> +Boston Common, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boswell, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>, <a href="#Page_602">602</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bottom, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boudinot, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bourbon, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bourbon, Jeanne of, 74.<br /> +<br /> +Bourdeaux, 210.<br /> +<br /> +Boutineau, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bouttville, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bowdoin, 284, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bowen, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bowers, 82.<br /> +<br /> +Boyd, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Boyle, 243, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brachmans, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brackett, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Braddock, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bradford, 19, 301, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brady, 31, 55, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brague, 220.<br /> +<br /> +Brand, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brandreth, 86.<br /> +<br /> +Brandywine, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Branodunum, 65.<br /> +<br /> +Bray, 81, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Braybrooke, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Breck, 270, 271.<br /> +<br /> +Breckenridge, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Breed, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Briareus, 56, 91.<br /> +<br /> +Briar’s Creek, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Briggs, 175.<br /> +<br /> +Brighton, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bristol, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.<br /> +<br /> +British Critic, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Britons, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brocklebank, 174.<br /> +<br /> +Brockwell, 297.<br /> +<br /> +Bromeholme, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bromfield, 269, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brooks, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brougham, 84, 347.<br /> +<br /> +Brouillan, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Brown, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Browne, 42, 65, 67, 118, 122, 131, 180, 215, 227, 282, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bruce, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bruli, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Buchanan, 58, 59, 61, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Buckingham, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Buckley, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Buddikin, 108.<br /> +<br /> +Buffon, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Buissiere, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bulfinch, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bull, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bullivant, 298.<br /> +<br /> +Bulwer, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bungs, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bunker’s Hill, 54, 55, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Buononcini, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burdett, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Bureau, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burgoyne, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burgundy, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burke, 27, 268, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burleigh, 76, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burnett, 33, 76, 233, 262, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burney, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burr, 332, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Burritt, 177.<br /> +<br /> +Burton, 26, 66.<br /> +<br /> +Busching, 119.<br /> +<br /> +Bute, 140, 146.<br /> +<br /> +Butler, 56, 208, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Byles, 143, also <a href="#Page_363">363 to 372</a>, passim: also <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">C.</span><br /> +<br /> +Cades, 152.<br /> +<br /> +Cæsar, Augustus, 29, 36, 99, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>, <a href="#Page_679">679</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cæsar, Julius, 29, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_579">579</a>, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cæsars, the twelve, 67.<br /> +<br /> +Cæsar, the slave, 31.<br /> +<br /> +Caffraria, 103.<br /> +<br /> +Cain, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cairo, 241.<br /> +<br /> +Caius, 88, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Calabria, 87.<br /> +<br /> +Calais, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Calhoun, 114.<br /> +<br /> +Calcraft, 346.<br /> +<br /> +California, 101.<br /> +<br /> +Calinglond, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Callender, 163.<br /> +<br /> +Calmet, 119, 120, 187, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Callowhill, 267.<br /> +<br /> +Calvin, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Calypso, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_689" id="Page_689">[Pg 689]</a></span><br /> +Cambridge, <a href="#Page_630">630</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Camden, 145, 146, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Camerarius, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cameron, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Camillus Papers, 277.<br /> +<br /> +Campbell, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Caner, 289 to 300, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Canning, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Canso, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Canterbury, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>, <a href="#Page_669">669</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cape Anne, 16.<br /> +<br /> +Capet, 73, 81, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Capulets, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cardigan, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Caribs, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Carisbroke Castle, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Carmelites, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Carne, 117, 119.<br /> +<br /> +Carroll, 181.<br /> +<br /> +Carter, 148.<br /> +<br /> +Carthago, 152.<br /> +<br /> +Carthusians, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cartwright, 240.<br /> +<br /> +Cass, 85, 110.<br /> +<br /> +Cassieres, 59.<br /> +<br /> +Castalio, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Castellan, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Castelnau, <a href="#Page_384">384</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Castlereagh, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Catanea, 33.<br /> +<br /> +Catholics, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Catlin, 23.<br /> +<br /> +Cato, 71, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Catti, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Caulfield, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cavan, 193.<br /> +<br /> +Cecil, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cecrops, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Celsus, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cemetery des Innocens, 39, 43, 65.<br /> +<br /> +Cephrenes, <a href="#Page_384">384</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chace, 310 to 330, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Chadsey, 80.<br /> +<br /> +Chadwick, 212, 278, 320, 321, 322, 333, <a href="#Page_569">569</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chaise, Père la, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chaldeans, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chalmers, 49, 238, 248, 249, 268, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a>, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chamberlain, 77, 80.<br /> +<br /> +Chamouni, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chantilly, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chapel Yard, 225.<br /> +<br /> +Chapotin, <a href="#Page_568">568</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chappelle, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chardon, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Charles, Archduke, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Charles I., 133, 134, 135, 137, 138, 157, 177, 248, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Charles II., 99, 136, 159, 170, 177, 248, 249, 259, 309, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Charles V., 25, 74, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Charles IX., <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Charles XII., 217.<br /> +<br /> +Charleston, 112, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Charlestown, <a href="#Page_608">608</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Charlemagne, 37, 73.<br /> +<br /> +Charlotte, Queen, 145.<br /> +<br /> +Charlton, 125.<br /> +<br /> +Charon, 68.<br /> +<br /> +Charpentiere, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chartreuse, 162.<br /> +<br /> +Chateaubriand, 117, 118, 119, 122.<br /> +<br /> +Chatham, 146, 417.<br /> +<br /> +Chaumette, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chauncey, 148, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chazlett, 244.<br /> +<br /> +Checkley, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cheever, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chelesfield, <a href="#Page_653">653</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chenoo, 129.<br /> +<br /> +Cheops, <a href="#Page_384">384</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chesapeake, <a href="#Page_608">608</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chester, 239, 240, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chesterfield, 108.<br /> +<br /> +Chevy Chace, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cheverus, 210, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cheyne, <a href="#Page_649">649</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chicago, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chigwell, 248.<br /> +<br /> +Childe, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chilperic, 66, 67.<br /> +<br /> +China, 93, 94, 106, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_586">586</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chinese, 67, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chiron, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chitty, 192.<br /> +<br /> +Christ Church, 143.<br /> +<br /> +Christian Observer, 281.<br /> +<br /> +Christianstadt, 97.<br /> +<br /> +Christina, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Christmas, 124, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Christopherson, 228.<br /> +<br /> +Chronicles, 122, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chrysippus, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chrysostom, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Chuang-tsze, <a href="#Page_482">482 to 494</a>, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Cicero, 51, 64, 79, 97, 176, 214, 217, 218, 279, 282, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>, <a href="#Page_579">579</a>, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cimon, 11.<br /> +<br /> +Circe, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Claflin, 124.<br /> +<br /> +Clarendon, 135, 136, 137, <a href="#Page_649">649</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clarissa, 320.<br /> +<br /> +Clare, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clarke, 121, 122, 129, 132, 159, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clarkson, 237 to 269, pas.<br /> +<br /> +Claudius, 67, 99.<br /> +<br /> +Claudius Pulcher, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clemens Alexandrinus, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clement, 121, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cleomenes, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>, <a href="#Page_600">600</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clerimont, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clifford, 271, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Clinton, 60, 62.<br /> +<br /> +Clytemnestra, 11.<br /> +<br /> +Cobbett, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cobham, 20, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Coke, 181.<br /> +<br /> +Colclough, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Colebrooke, 22.<br /> +<br /> +Colman, 214, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Columbus, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Colvin, 301 to 331, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Commodus, 67.<br /> +<br /> +Concord, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Condé, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Condy, <a href="#Page_516">516</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Coneyball, 299.<br /> +<br /> +Confucius, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Congo, 129.<br /> +<br /> +Conrad, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Constantinople, 22, 55, 87, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Constantius, 55.<br /> +<br /> +Conway, 145, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cook, 129, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cooley, 316.<br /> +<br /> +Coolidge, 180.<br /> +<br /> +Cooper, 181, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Copeland, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Copley, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Corday, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>, <a href="#Page_641">641</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cornish, 237, 332.<br /> +<br /> +Cornwall, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +“Corpse Hill,” 92.<br /> +<br /> +Corry, 232.<br /> +<br /> +Cortez, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cossart, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cotton, 229, 230.<br /> +<br /> +Courland, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Courrier Extraordinaire, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Courtnay, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Coventry, 180.<br /> +<br /> +Cow Lane, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cowley, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cowper, 222, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cox, 252.<br /> +<br /> +Cranmer, 279.<br /> +<br /> +Crawford, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Creech, 244.<br /> +<br /> +Crequi, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Crespigney, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Creusa, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Crinas, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cripplegate, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Crocker, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Crockett, 209.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_690" id="Page_690">[Pg 690]</a></span>Croese, 239, 240, 242, 262.<br /> +<br /> +Crofts, <a href="#Page_616">616</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cromartic, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cromwell, 134, 135, 170, 177.<br /> +<br /> +Cromwell’s Head, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Crosby, <a href="#Page_598">598</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Croyland Abbey, 124.<br /> +<br /> +Cruikshanks, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cullender, 33, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cunningham, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Curran, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Curwen, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cushing, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cutbeard, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cuthbert, 37, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cutler, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>, <a href="#Page_563">563</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cutter, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cyclops, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Cyrus, 332.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">D.</span><br /> +<br /> +Daddy Osgood, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dagobert, 74.<br /> +<br /> +Daillé, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Damberger, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dammory, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dana, 142, 190, 191, 276, 337.<br /> +<br /> +Danes, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Danforth, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Darden, 184.<br /> +<br /> +Davenport, 299, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>, <a href="#Page_547">547</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.<br /> +<br /> +David, 16, 221, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Davis, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_586">586</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dead Sea, 116, 118, 119, 121, 123.<br /> +<br /> +D’Acres, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +D’Arblay, 105.<br /> +<br /> +De Blois, 24, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Burgh, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Decatur, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, <a href="#Page_611">611</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dedication, <a href="#Page_679">679</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Defoe, 87.<br /> +<br /> +De Grandison, <a href="#Page_653">653</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Henricourt, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dehon, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Hoveden, <a href="#Page_669">669</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De la Croix, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Delancey, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Delaware, 252.<br /> +<br /> +Delia, 100.<br /> +<br /> +Demades, 52.<br /> +<br /> +Demarat, 58, 59.<br /> +<br /> +De Medicis, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Demetrius, 97.<br /> +<br /> +Deming, 302, 312, 322.<br /> +<br /> +Democritus, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Demosthenes, 97.<br /> +<br /> +Dentrecolles, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Denmark, 52, 53, 88, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Pauw, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Deptford, 267.<br /> +<br /> +De Ris, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Desdemona, 82.<br /> +<br /> +Deshon, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Despencer, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Thou, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dettingen, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Uzerches, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Valence, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Vassor, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Verdon, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Devergie, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Devereux, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Devon, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Warre, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +De Worde, 125.<br /> +<br /> +Dexter, 25, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Didian Law, 342.<br /> +<br /> +Dido, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dickens, <a href="#Page_568">568</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dickson, 31.<br /> +<br /> +Diemerbroeck, 49.<br /> +<br /> +Diemschid, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Digby, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>, <a href="#Page_641">641</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Diodorus, 18, 342.<br /> +<br /> +Diogenes, 16, 17, 18, 217.<br /> +<br /> +Diogenes Laertius, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dionysius, 12, 98, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dirk Hatteraick, 238.<br /> +<br /> +Dodsley’s Annual Register, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Domitian, 67, 106, 120.<br /> +<br /> +Don Quixote, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Doolittle, 330.<br /> +<br /> +Dorchester Neck, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dorchester Point, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Doring, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dorsett, 66, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Douglas, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dover, 319.<br /> +<br /> +Doyle, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dowse, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Draco, 206, 207, 209, 226.<br /> +<br /> +Draper, 91.<br /> +<br /> +Drury, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Druses, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dryden, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Du Barri, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dublin, 89, 249.<br /> +<br /> +Dubois, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ducange, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dudley, 181, 298, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Duff, 129, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dugdale, <a href="#Page_647">647</a>, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Du Halde, 402.<br /> +<br /> +Dulany, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dummer, <a href="#Page_550">550</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>, <a href="#Page_552">552</a>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dumont, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dundee, 31.<br /> +<br /> +Dunciad, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dunmow, 124.<br /> +<br /> +Duny, 331, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Duport, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Durandus, 124.<br /> +<br /> +Dutch, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Dyer, 232.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">E.</span><br /> +<br /> +Earle, 94.<br /> +<br /> +Easter Eve, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eastman, 182, 183.<br /> +<br /> +Easton, 158.<br /> +<br /> +Eatooa, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ecclesiastes, 111, 267.<br /> +<br /> +Ecclesiasticus, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Echeloot Indians, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eckley, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eden, 70.<br /> +<br /> +Edes, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Edessa, 57.<br /> +<br /> +Edgeworth, 103.<br /> +<br /> +Edinburgh, 89, 241.<br /> +<br /> +Edinburgh Review, 178, 209, 346.<br /> +<br /> +Edmund I., 124.<br /> +<br /> +Edmund Plantagenet, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Edom, 116.<br /> +<br /> +Edward, I., 26, 187, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Edward III., 342, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_649">649</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Edward IV., 342, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Edward, the Confessor, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Egypt, 33, 88, 106, 129, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Egyptians, 19, 102, 110, 111, 129, 131, 206, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ekron, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Elah, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eldon, 192, 193, 230.<br /> +<br /> +El Dorado, 71, 103.<br /> +<br /> +Eli, 197, 198.<br /> +<br /> +Eliot, 91, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Elliot, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eliphaz, 217.<br /> +<br /> +Elizabeth, 103, 170, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Elizabeth Island, 285.<br /> +<br /> +Embomma, 129, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Empedocles, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Encyclopædia Britannica, 268.<br /> +<br /> +Endor, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_665">665</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>, <a href="#Page_678">678</a>.<br /> +<br /> +England, 188, 206, 210, 229, 253, 268, 346, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, <a href="#Page_600">600</a>, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.<br /> +<br /> +English Canaan, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.<br /> +<br /> +English Mark, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Enoch, 57.<br /> +<br /> +Epicurus, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Erasistratus, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Erasmus, 152.<br /> +<br /> +Erfurth, 125.<br /> +<br /> +Erpingham, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Erricus, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_691" id="Page_691">[Pg 691]</a></span><br /> +Erskine, 84.<br /> +<br /> +Erving, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Estwell, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Espinasse, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ethiopia, 106.<br /> +<br /> +Europe, 106, 131, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eurypus, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eusebius, <a href="#Page_465">465</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eustis, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eutaw Springs, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Evans, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Eve, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Evelyn, 134.<br /> +<br /> +Everett, 55, 204, 277.<br /> +<br /> +Ewins, 159.<br /> +<br /> +Exeter, 20, 204, 211, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ezekiel, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">F.</span><br /> +<br /> +Fabius Maximus, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fabrieii Bibliographia Antiquaria, <a href="#Page_659">659</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fagan, 193.<br /> +<br /> +Fairbanks, 190, 191, 337.<br /> +<br /> +Fakeer, <a href="#Page_570">570</a>, <a href="#Page_571">571</a>, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fales, 190, 337.<br /> +<br /> +Falmouth, 243.<br /> +<br /> +Falstaff, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Faneuil, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>:—<a href="#Page_495">495 to 563</a>, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Faneuil Hall, 211, 199, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fanhope, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Farmer, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Farnham, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Farnsworth, 314, 327, 328.<br /> +<br /> +Farquhar, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Farraday, 103.<br /> +<br /> +Farrar, 159.<br /> +<br /> +Farrago, 189, 347.<br /> +<br /> +Fasti, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Faulconbridge, 321.<br /> +<br /> +Favor, 98.<br /> +<br /> +Feild, 228.<br /> +<br /> +Fenelon, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fenner, 228.<br /> +<br /> +Ferrari, 27.<br /> +<br /> +Fielding, 272.<br /> +<br /> +Fillebrown, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fire Island, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fish, <a href="#Page_665">665</a>, <a href="#Page_666">666</a>, <a href="#Page_667">667</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Flaccus, 106, 337.<br /> +<br /> +Flanders, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Florence, 125, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fleet, 147.<br /> +<br /> +Fleet Prison, 268.<br /> +<br /> +Fleet Street, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fleta, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Flagg, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Flaherty, 196.<br /> +<br /> +Flechier, 215.<br /> +<br /> +Flucker, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Folsom, 189.<br /> +<br /> +Fontenelle, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fonnereau, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Foote, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ford, 25, 268, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fordyce, 27.<br /> +<br /> +Forresters, 286.<br /> +<br /> +Forest Hills, 68, 225.<br /> +<br /> +Forster, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fosbroke, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fothergill, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fox, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>, <a href="#Page_665">665</a>, <a href="#Page_666">666</a>, <a href="#Page_667">667</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Foxcroft, 298.<br /> +<br /> +France, 68, 88, 188, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Francis I., 73, 97, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Francis, <a href="#Page_598">598</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Frankfort, 15.<br /> +<br /> +Franklin, 20, 142, <a href="#Page_574">574</a>, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>, <a href="#Page_644">644</a>, <a href="#Page_645">645</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Franks, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Freand, 56.<br /> +<br /> +Frederick I., 28.<br /> +<br /> +Freedly, 181.<br /> +<br /> +Freeman, 165.<br /> +<br /> +French Church, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Frescati, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Frizzell, 126.<br /> +<br /> +Frizzles, 189.<br /> +<br /> +Fuller, 66, 265, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Fullerton, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">G.</span><br /> +<br /> +Gabriel, 57, 119.<br /> +<br /> +Galen, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Galilee, 57.<br /> +<br /> +Gannett, 92, 286.<br /> +<br /> +Gardner, 299, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Garth, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gates, 77, 81.<br /> +<br /> +Gath, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gato, 33.<br /> +<br /> +Gaul, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gaule, <a href="#Page_659">659</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gauls, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gaunt, 237, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gavett, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gawler, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gellia, 107.<br /> +<br /> +Genesis, 122, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Genethliaci, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Genevieve, 73, 75.<br /> +<br /> +Genoa, 89.<br /> +<br /> +Gentleman’s Magazine, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_594">594</a>.<br /> +<br /> +George I., 28, 248, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.<br /> +<br /> +George II., <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a>.<br /> +<br /> +George III., 59, 90, 103, 144, 145, 147, 275, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>.<br /> +<br /> +George IV., 207, 209.<br /> +<br /> +Gerard, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Germanicus, 29.<br /> +<br /> +Germans, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Germantown, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Germany, 88, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gervais, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ghizeh, 33.<br /> +<br /> +Gibraltar, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Gideon, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gill, 61.<br /> +<br /> +Gillies, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gilpin, 74.<br /> +<br /> +Girondists, 68, 74.<br /> +<br /> +Glossin, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gloucester, 349, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Goethe, 287.<br /> +<br /> +Golgotha, 35.<br /> +<br /> +Goliath, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gold, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Goldsmith, 24, 123, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_584">584</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_649">649</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gomorrah, 117, 119, 221.<br /> +<br /> +Good, 49.<br /> +<br /> +Goode, 181, 184, 338.<br /> +<br /> +Gooseberry, 70.<br /> +<br /> +Gordon, 62, 147, 153, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gore, 277.<br /> +<br /> +Gorton, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gosnold, 283.<br /> +<br /> +Goss, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gould, <a href="#Page_598">598</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gracchus, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grady, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grammont, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Granger, 260.<br /> +<br /> +Granary, 24, 46, 48, 148, 197, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grant, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grattan, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gratz, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Graunt, 103.<br /> +<br /> +Gray, 161, 162, 269, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>, <a href="#Page_556">556</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Great Britain, 186, 207, 277, 347, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Great Tom, 125.<br /> +<br /> +Greece, 105, 128, 204, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Greeks, 68, 106, 131, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Green, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Greene, 62, 159, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Greenlanders, 35.<br /> +<br /> +Greenleaf, 192, 329, 330.<br /> +<br /> +Green Mount, 38.<br /> +<br /> +Greenwood, 300, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gregory, Pope, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grey, 347.<br /> +<br /> +Grey Friars, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Greville, <a href="#Page_678">678</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gridley, 142.<br /> +<br /> +Griswold, 160, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grossman, 7, 8, 18, 24, 25, 44, 50, 115, 132, 288, <a href="#Page_680">680</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grotius, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_692" id="Page_692">[Pg 692]</a></span><br /> +Grouchy, 132.<br /> +<br /> +Grozier, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Grubb, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Guardian, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Guerriere, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Guiana, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Guideu, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Guienne, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Guilford, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Guillotin, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Guillotine, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Guinneau, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gundebald, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gussanville, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Gustavus Adolphus, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">H.</span><br /> +<br /> +Hades, 345.<br /> +<br /> +Hague, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hakin, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hale, 62, 124, 177, 188, 189, 190, 209, 220, 301, 310, 315, 324, 331, 332, 334, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>, <a href="#Page_666">666</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Halford, 134, 135, 136, 139.<br /> +<br /> +Halifax, 223, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hall, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Hallam, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Haller, 157.<br /> +<br /> +Halley, 81.<br /> +<br /> +Hamilton, 277, 298, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hammond, 180.<br /> +<br /> +Hancock, 142, 143, 166, 299, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Handel, 297, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Handy, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hanan, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hannibal, 45.<br /> +<br /> +Hanover Square, 140.<br /> +<br /> +Hanway, 90.<br /> +<br /> +Harleian Miscellany, 217, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Harper, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Harris, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Harrison, 265, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hart, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hartop, 158.<br /> +<br /> +Harvey, 157, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Haslett, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hatch, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Haute, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hawes, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hawkins, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hawles, 332.<br /> +<br /> +Hawtrey, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Haydn, 346, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>, <a href="#Page_579">579</a>, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hayes, 301.<br /> +<br /> +Hayley, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Haynes, 302, 307, 310, 316, 317, 321, 322.<br /> +<br /> +Hayward, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hazael, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hazzard, 226, <a href="#Page_545">545</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Heath, 172, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, <a href="#Page_611">611</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Heber, 360.<br /> +<br /> +Hebrews, 33, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hebrides, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hector, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Heemskerck, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Helen, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Henault, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Henderson, 304.<br /> +<br /> +Henry II., <a href="#Page_649">649</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Henry III., 187, 241, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Henry IV., 73, 74, 342, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Henry VI., 349, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Henry VII., 87, 88, 134, 185.<br /> +<br /> +Henry VIII., 78, 133, 136, 138, 139, 170, 185, 188, 342, 346, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Henry, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hephestion, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Herbert, 104, 133, 138, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hercules, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hereford, <a href="#Page_649">649</a>, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Herlicius, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hermes, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Herne, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Herod, 93.<br /> +<br /> +Herodotus, 18, 21, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Heron, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Herophylus, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Herr Driesbach, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Herschell, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hertford, 133, 135.<br /> +<br /> +Highgate, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Hildanus, 49, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hill, 298, 307, 308, 310, <a href="#Page_368">368</a>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hiller, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hindoos, 22, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hindostan, 93, 100.<br /> +<br /> +Hippocrates, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hirst, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hobart, 134, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hobkirk’s Hill, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hoboken, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hodgson, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hodson, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hog Alley, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hogarth, 271.<br /> +<br /> +Holborn, 134.<br /> +<br /> +Holbrook, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Holden, 124, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Holinshed, 87, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Holland, 88, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Holme, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Holmes, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Holy Land, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Homans, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Homer, 15, 17, 143, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>, <a href="#Page_586">586</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hone, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hook, 76, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hooper, 309, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hopkins, 221, 422, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Horace, 36, 51, 97, 168, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>, <a href="#Page_568">568</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>, <a href="#Page_664">664</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Horatio, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, <a href="#Page_600">600</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Horne, 178.<br /> +<br /> +Horstius, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hossack, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hottentots, 34.<br /> +<br /> +Hough, 245, 246.<br /> +<br /> +Houndsditch, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Howe, 55, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hubbard, <a href="#Page_627">627</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hudibras, 260, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>, <a href="#Page_627">627</a>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Huger, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Huguenots, <a href="#Page_496">496 to 500</a>, passim: also, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>, <a href="#Page_545">545</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hull, 66, 274, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hume, 186, 241.<br /> +<br /> +Humphreys, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>, <a href="#Page_647">647</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hungary, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hungerford, 233.<br /> +<br /> +Hunt, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Huntington, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hutchinson, 226, 228, 229, 230, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>, <a href="#Page_586">586</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Hydriotaphia, 42, 65, 131, 281.<br /> +<br /> +Hydrophobia, 193.<br /> +<br /> +Hyperion, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">I.</span><br /> +<br /> +Idumea, 116.<br /> +<br /> +Inman, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Innocent III., <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ireland, 87, 93.<br /> +<br /> +Irenæus, 171.<br /> +<br /> +Ireton, 134.<br /> +<br /> +Irish, 193.<br /> +<br /> +Irving, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Isabella, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Israel, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Israelites, 102.<br /> +<br /> +Isis, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Islip, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Istampol, 186.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">J.</span><br /> +<br /> +Jabbok, 118.<br /> +<br /> +Jackson, 55, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jacobs, 312.<br /> +<br /> +Jahn, 33, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jamaica Pond, 69.<br /> +<br /> +James I., 170, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a>.<br /> +<br /> +James II., 232, 243, 248, 253, 259.<br /> +<br /> +Jardin des Plantes, 75.<br /> +<br /> +Jasper, 256.<br /> +<br /> +Jay, 276.<br /> +<br /> +Jefferson, 85, 163, 344, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jeffrey, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_693" id="Page_693">[Pg 693]</a></span><br /> +Jeffreys, 235.<br /> +<br /> +Jeffries, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jekyll, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jenkins, 157.<br /> +<br /> +Jenks, 117, 118.<br /> +<br /> +Jenyns, 42.<br /> +<br /> +Jepson, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jeremiah, 105.<br /> +<br /> +Jerusalem, 119.<br /> +<br /> +Jesse, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jew, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jews, 106, 131, 170, 186, 188, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Job, 217, 225, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jonathan, 116, 167, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jones, 159, 181, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Johnson Samuel, 31, 90, 107, 108, 183, 277, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>, <a href="#Page_602">602</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Johnson, 55, 305, 308, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Johonnot, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jonny Armstrong, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jonson Ben, 59, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Jordan, 117, 118.<br /> +<br /> +Joseph, 57, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Josephus, 118, 120.<br /> +<br /> +Josselyn, 283.<br /> +<br /> +Judah, 116.<br /> +<br /> +Judæus Apella, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Judd, 77.<br /> +<br /> +Judea, 105, 116, 128, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Judicial Astrology, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Judson, <a href="#Page_616">616</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Julia, 67.<br /> +<br /> +Junius, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Juno, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Juvenal, 79, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">K.</span><br /> +<br /> +Kaimes, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kamschatka, 35.<br /> +<br /> +Kast, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Katherine of Arragon, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Keatinge, 128.<br /> +<br /> +Keayne, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Keith, 239.<br /> +<br /> +Kensall Green, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Kent, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kerr, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kidd, 285.<br /> +<br /> +Kidder, 86.<br /> +<br /> +Kilby, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kilmarnock, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a>.<br /> +<br /> +King, 276.<br /> +<br /> +Kings, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +King’s Chapel, 48, 55, 288, 297, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kingsmill, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Kingstreet, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kingstown, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kircherus, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kirchmaun, 106.<br /> +<br /> +Kirriel, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Kishon, 118.<br /> +<br /> +Kitchen, 231, 232.<br /> +<br /> +Kittal-al-Machaid, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Knox, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Koran, 21.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">L.</span><br /> +<br /> +Lacedemonians, 12, 13, 17.<br /> +<br /> +La Cheze, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lacombe, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lafayette, 62, 84, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lahore, <a href="#Page_570">570</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lally, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lamartine, 68.<br /> +<br /> +Lambert, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lamia, 49, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lancashire, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lancaster, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Landgrave of Hesse, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Landseer, <a href="#Page_678">678</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lane, <a href="#Page_598">598</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Langdon, 92, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Langstaff, 92.<br /> +<br /> +Lansdowne, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Laou-Keun, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Larassy, 179.<br /> +<br /> +Lares, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Larkin, 101<br /> +<br /> +Larrey, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Larvæ, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Lathrop, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Latimer, 75, 279, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Laurel Hill, 38.<br /> +<br /> +Laurens, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lavater, <a href="#Page_625">625</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lavinia, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lazarus, 56.<br /> +<br /> +Leadenhall Market, 213, 220.<br /> +<br /> +Le Cat, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lechemere, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lectouse, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Ledea, 228.<br /> +<br /> +Lee, 126, 276.<br /> +<br /> +L’Etombe, 166.<br /> +<br /> +Le Gros, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Leibnitz, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Leicestershire, 68, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Le Mercier, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>, <a href="#Page_547">547</a>, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lemures, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Lenoie, 40.<br /> +<br /> +Lenox, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Leopard, <a href="#Page_608">608</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lepidus, 52.<br /> +<br /> +Leuconoe, <a href="#Page_663">663</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Levi, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Leviticus, 230.<br /> +<br /> +Lewis, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lewyn, 81.<br /> +<br /> +Lexington, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Liancourt, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Libo, 99.<br /> +<br /> +Licinius, 80.<br /> +<br /> +Lilly, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lincoln, 94, 312, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lincoln’s Inn, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lind, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lindsey, 133, 135.<br /> +<br /> +Linnæus, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Linnington, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lippstadt, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lithered, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Little Belt, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Liverpool, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Livingston, 276.<br /> +<br /> +Livy, 52, 80, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lizard, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lloyd, 35, 265, 367, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lloyd’s Lists, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Locke, 266.<br /> +<br /> +Locrian Law, 342.<br /> +<br /> +Loe, 248, 249.<br /> +<br /> +Lollards, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lombards, 186.<br /> +<br /> +London, 37, 56, 67, 76, 87, 88, 89, 94, 118, 211, 213, 220, 237, 346, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +London Quarterly Review, 212, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_641">641</a>.<br /> +<br /> +London Times, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Long, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Long Branch, 320.<br /> +<br /> +Long Island, 62.<br /> +<br /> +Longshanks, 187, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Longspee, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lot’s Wife, 116, 119, 120, 121, 122.<br /> +<br /> +Loudon, 213, 214.<br /> +<br /> +Louis, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Louis XI., 74.<br /> +<br /> +Louis XII., 73.<br /> +<br /> +Louis XIII., 74, 352, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Louis XIV., 38, 74, 75, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Louis XV., <a href="#Page_671">671</a>, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Louis XVI., <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Louison, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lovat, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lovell, 159:—<a href="#Page_496">496 to 530</a>, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Lowell, 83.<br /> +<br /> +Lucan, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lucilius, 106, 107, 168, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ludlow, 226.<br /> +<br /> +Lum Akum, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Luther, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lutton, 123, 132.<br /> +<br /> +Lutzengen, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lycurgus, 17.<br /> +<br /> +Lyman, 202, 203.<br /> +<br /> +Lynn, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Lyon, 324.<br /> +<br /> +Lyons, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_694" id="Page_694">[Pg 694]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">M.</span><br /> +<br /> +Mabillon, 124.<br /> +<br /> +Macabe, 195.<br /> +<br /> +McAndrew, 181.<br /> +<br /> +Macartney, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Macaulay, 231 to 269, passim:—also <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.<br /> +<br /> +McDonough, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>.<br /> +<br /> +McGammon, 196.<br /> +<br /> +McGill, 332.<br /> +<br /> +Machaon, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Machiavelli, 95, 115, 220, 234.<br /> +<br /> +Machyl, 82.<br /> +<br /> +McKeon, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mackenzie, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, <a href="#Page_611">611</a>, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mackintosh, 207, 316.<br /> +<br /> +McLean, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>.<br /> +<br /> +McNamara, 197.<br /> +<br /> +McNaughten, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Machpelah, 299.<br /> +<br /> +Mæcenas, 36, <a href="#Page_679">679</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mag-Astro-Mancer, <a href="#Page_659">659</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Magdalen College, 243, 244, 246.<br /> +<br /> +Magdalene, 56.<br /> +<br /> +Magee, 195.<br /> +<br /> +Magnalia, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mahomet, 171.<br /> +<br /> +Mahoney, 195.<br /> +<br /> +Maillard, 73.<br /> +<br /> +Mailosel, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Maintenon, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Majoribanks, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mahnsbury, 87.<br /> +<br /> +Malone, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Malplesant, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Malta, 33, <a href="#Page_624">624</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Maltravers, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mammon, 170.<br /> +<br /> +Mamre, 299.<br /> +<br /> +Manchester, 303 to 325, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Mandans, 23, 51.<br /> +<br /> +Mandeville, 118, 344, 345, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Manlius, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Manes, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Manigault, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mann, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mannering, 360.<br /> +<br /> +Manney, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mansfield, 95, 115, 220, 234.<br /> +<br /> +Mantua, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Marat, 217.<br /> +<br /> +Marbeuf, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Marc Antony, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Marcellinus, 64.<br /> +<br /> +March, <a href="#Page_653">653</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>, <a href="#Page_666">666</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Marco Polo, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Marcus Antoninus, <a href="#Page_584">584</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mareschall, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Maret, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Mariner, 129.<br /> +<br /> +Marion, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mariti, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Marius, 63.<br /> +<br /> +Marseillais, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Marseilles, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Marshall, 55, 83, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Martel, 73.<br /> +<br /> +Martial, 107, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_586">586</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Martin, 189.<br /> +<br /> +Martinico, 166.<br /> +<br /> +Martinique, 29.<br /> +<br /> +Mary, Bloody, 75, 82, 93, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Maryland, 153, 154.<br /> +<br /> +Mashee, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mason, 101, 102.<br /> +<br /> +Massachusetts, 84, 94, 114, 155, 156, 164, 165, 166, 176, 187, 231, 276, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mather, 94, 280, 327, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>, <a href="#Page_668">668</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Matthews, 180, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Matooara, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Maury, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Maverick, 163.<br /> +<br /> +Maximilian II., <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Maynard, 81.<br /> +<br /> +Mazarin, 135.<br /> +<br /> +Mazzei, 163.<br /> +<br /> +Mead, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mears, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_563">563</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Meaux, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mediterranean, 118.<br /> +<br /> +Megret, 217.<br /> +<br /> +Melancthon, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Melli Melli, <a href="#Page_568">568</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mena, 130, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Menalcas, 90.<br /> +<br /> +Menander, 217.<br /> +<br /> +Menu, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Merrick, 221.<br /> +<br /> +Merrill, 313 to 325, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Mewins, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mexico, 101, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Michaelis, 119.<br /> +<br /> +Midsummer Night’s Dream, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Milan, 220, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mildmay, 133.<br /> +<br /> +Miletum, 342.<br /> +<br /> +Milford Haven, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Millar, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Millenarians, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Millengen, 36, 49.<br /> +<br /> +Millens, 92.<br /> +<br /> +Miller, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Millot, <a href="#Page_659">659</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mills, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Miltiades, 11.<br /> +<br /> +Milton, 159, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Minzies, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Minoresses, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Minors, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Minshull, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mirepoix, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mirfield, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Misson, 56.<br /> +<br /> +Missouri, 23.<br /> +<br /> +Mitford, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Moab, 116.<br /> +<br /> +Mock, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mohawk Indian, <a href="#Page_647">647</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mohun, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Momus, <a href="#Page_368">368</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Monmouth, 235.<br /> +<br /> +Montacute, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Montaigne, 27, 104, 343, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Montague, 55.<br /> +<br /> +Montefiore, 15.<br /> +<br /> +Monte Notte, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Montesquieu, 342.<br /> +<br /> +Montezuma, 63, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Montmorenci, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Moody, 30, 189, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Moore, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Moorhead, 150, 286, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Moors, 138.<br /> +<br /> +Moravians, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>.<br /> +<br /> +More, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Morin, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Morland, <a href="#Page_466">466 to 470</a>, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Morose, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Morris, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>, <a href="#Page_611">611</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mortimer, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>, <a href="#Page_653">653</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Morton, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Moses, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mount Auburn, 38, 46, 68, 225.<br /> +<br /> +Mounts Bay, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mount Hope, 33.<br /> +<br /> +Moyle, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mudge, <a href="#Page_608">608</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mullowny, 194.<br /> +<br /> +Mun Chung, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Murphy, 101, 102, 107, 193.<br /> +<br /> +Murray, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Murullus, 106.<br /> +<br /> +Muses, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Muskerry, 243.<br /> +<br /> +Mussenden, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mydas, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mysore, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Mytelene, 12.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">N.</span><br /> +<br /> +Naaman, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Nain, 320.<br /> +<br /> +Nantasket, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Nantes, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Nantucket, 77.<br /> +<br /> +Naples, 33, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Napoleon, 105, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Narcissa, 22.<br /> +<br /> +Nares, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_695" id="Page_695">[Pg 695]</a></span><br /> +Narragansett Bay, 283, 284.<br /> +<br /> +Naseby, 134, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Natchez, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Nau, 122.<br /> +<br /> +Negoose, 189, 190, 191, 347.<br /> +<br /> +Nemours, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +New, <a href="#Page_581">581</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Newcastle, 90.<br /> +<br /> +New England, 177, 221, 283, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>, <a href="#Page_627">627</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Newgate, 179, 183, 259, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +New London, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>.<br /> +<br /> +New North Church, 125, 126.<br /> +<br /> +New Orleans, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>.<br /> +<br /> +New Rochelle, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Newton, 66.<br /> +<br /> +New York, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>.<br /> +<br /> +New York Evening Post, 330, 331.<br /> +<br /> +New Zealand, 23, 94.<br /> +<br /> +Nicholls, 193, 422, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Nicolas, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ninkempaup, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Niobe, 121.<br /> +<br /> +Nipmug, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Noah, 176.<br /> +<br /> +Noailles, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Noble, 262.<br /> +<br /> +Noddle’s Island, 163.<br /> +<br /> +Nollekens, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Norfolk, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Norman, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Normandy, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Norris, 232.<br /> +<br /> +North American Review, 330.<br /> +<br /> +Norway, 88, 168.<br /> +<br /> +Norwich, 346.<br /> +<br /> +Notre Dame, 124.<br /> +<br /> +Nova Scotia, <a href="#Page_568">568</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Noyes, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Numa, 69, 105, 106.<br /> +<br /> +Numbers, 122.<br /> +<br /> +Nunhead, 37.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">O.</span><br /> +<br /> +Oak Hall, 133.<br /> +<br /> +O’Brien, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>.<br /> +<br /> +O’Connell, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Odyssey, 11.<br /> +<br /> +Ogilvie, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Oglethorpe, <a href="#Page_601">601</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ogygia, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Olam Fodla, 93.<br /> +<br /> +Old Brick, 123, 132, 128, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Oldmixon, 268.<br /> +<br /> +Oliver, 140, 141, 142, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Omnibus, 191, 347.<br /> +<br /> +Oporto, 55.<br /> +<br /> +Orde, 188.<br /> +<br /> +Orfila, 219.<br /> +<br /> +Origen, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Orinoco, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Orleans, 135.<br /> +<br /> +Orrery, 250.<br /> +<br /> +Osborne, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Osiris, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.<br /> +<br /> +O’Shane, 194.<br /> +<br /> +Ossa, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ossoli, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Otis, Harrison Gray, 159.<br /> +<br /> +Otis, James, 211, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ottomans, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Outhier, 51.<br /> +<br /> +Ovid, 64, 98, 105, 106, 223, 248, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Oxford, 87, 125, 244, 245, 248, 249, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, <a href="#Page_653">653</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Oxnard, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">P.</span><br /> +<br /> +Packinett, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Page, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Paine, <a href="#Page_598">598</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Palestine, 34, 121, 204, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Palermo, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Palinurus, 168.<br /> +<br /> +Pallas, 99.<br /> +<br /> +Palmer, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pantagathus, <a href="#Page_586">586</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Parant Duchatelet, 219.<br /> +<br /> +Paré, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pareicus, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Parian Marbles, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Paris, 37, 39, 73, 89, 249, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>, <a href="#Page_667">667</a>, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Parker, 246, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Parkman, 270 to 273, passim:—also 278, 335, 336.<br /> +<br /> +Parr, 157.<br /> +<br /> +Parsees, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Parsons, 276, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Passy, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Patchogue, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Patroclus, 15, 67, 107.<br /> +<br /> +Pauketpeeker, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Paulding, 62.<br /> +<br /> +Paul, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Paull, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pausanias, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pavice, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Paxton, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Paybody, 175.<br /> +<br /> +Peake, 192.<br /> +<br /> +Pearson, 175, 189.<br /> +<br /> +Peck, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pecker, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Peel, 207, 346.<br /> +<br /> +Pekin, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pelion, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pelletier, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pemberton, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>, <a href="#Page_563">563</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pembroke, <a href="#Page_653">653</a>, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Penn, 231 to 269 passim:—also 339.<br /> +<br /> +Pennant, <a href="#Page_634">634</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pennsylvania, 94.<br /> +<br /> +Pendleton, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pepin, 73.<br /> +<br /> +Pepperell, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pepusch, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pepys, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_468">468</a>, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Percival, <a href="#Page_599">599</a>, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Percy, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Perry, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>, <a href="#Page_611">611</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Persepolis, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Persia, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Persians, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Persius, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Peters, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Petre, 281.<br /> +<br /> +Petronel, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pew, 49.<br /> +<br /> +Peyret, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pharamond, 72.<br /> +<br /> +Pharsalia, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Phelps, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Philadelphia, 36, 38, 268, 339, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Philip Augustus, 39.<br /> +<br /> +Philip the Bold, 73.<br /> +<br /> +Philippus, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Phillips, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>:—also <a href="#Page_550">550 to 566</a> passim:—also <a href="#Page_568">568</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Philistines, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Philomela, 42.<br /> +<br /> +Picardy, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pickering, 165, 221, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pickett, 189.<br /> +<br /> +Pickworth, 283.<br /> +<br /> +Pierce, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pierre de Nemours, 39.<br /> +<br /> +Pierson, 226.<br /> +<br /> +Pigot, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pinchbeke, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pinckney, 277.<br /> +<br /> +Pindar, 96.<br /> +<br /> +Pineau, 49.<br /> +<br /> +Pinohe, 81.<br /> +<br /> +Pitcairn, 54, 223.<br /> +<br /> +Pitcher, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pitt, 145, 146, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pittacus, 12.<br /> +<br /> +Place de Grève, 73, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Place de la Revolution, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Place St. Antoine, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Plaine de Mont Louis, 40.<br /> +<br /> +Plaisant, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Plaistowe, 230.<br /> +<br /> +Plato, 20, 49, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Plautus, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pleydell, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Plimouth, 283, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pliny, 79, 99, 117, 121, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_696" id="Page_696">[Pg 696]</a></span><br /> +Plutarch, 105, 106, 217, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pococke, 111, 118.<br /> +<br /> +Podalirius, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pœon, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Poictiers, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Poictou, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Polack, 23.<br /> +<br /> +Pole, 75.<br /> +<br /> +Polhamus, 319, 320, 323.<br /> +<br /> +Pollard, 29.<br /> +<br /> +Pompadour, 41, 43.<br /> +<br /> +Pompey, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ponthia, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pontraçi, 39, 40, 54, 89.<br /> +<br /> +Popayan, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Pope, 111, 334, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Popple, 263.<br /> +<br /> +Porchalion, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Portland, 64, 65.<br /> +<br /> +Port Mahon, 42.<br /> +<br /> +Potter, 12.<br /> +<br /> +Powell, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pratt, 314, 327.<br /> +<br /> +Pretender, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Prevot, 49.<br /> +<br /> +Priam, 322.<br /> +<br /> +Price, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Priest, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Primrose, 111.<br /> +<br /> +Prince of Orange, 233.<br /> +<br /> +Pringle, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Prioleau, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Prior, 54, 233.<br /> +<br /> +Pritchard, <a href="#Page_550">550</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Proctor, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Prudhomme, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Psamatticus, 33.<br /> +<br /> +Pseudodoxia, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Puddifant, 131, 133.<br /> +<br /> +Pudding Lane, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Purchase Street, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Puzzlepot, 189.<br /> +<br /> +Pwan Yekoo, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pyramus, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Pythagoras, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">Q.</span><br /> +<br /> +Quakers, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Quincy, 43, 156, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Quintilius Varus, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Quintus, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">R.</span><br /> +<br /> +Rachel, <a href="#Page_569">569</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Radziville, 121.<br /> +<br /> +Rand, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Randall, 228.<br /> +<br /> +Randolph, 85, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ranelagh, 266.<br /> +<br /> +Rapin, 87, 185, 186, 241, 349, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rauber, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ravaillac, 73.<br /> +<br /> +Ravenscroft, 298.<br /> +<br /> +Raymond, 309, 315, 326, 327.<br /> +<br /> +Read, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Reason, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Receuil Periodique, <a href="#Page_643">643</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Reese, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Regent’s Inlet, <a href="#Page_645">645</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Religio Medici, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Remus, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Reuben, 116.<br /> +<br /> +Revallion, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Richard II., <a href="#Page_649">649</a>, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_657">657</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Richardson, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Richelieu, <a href="#Page_612">612</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Richmond, 133, 135, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ridley, 279, <a href="#Page_571">571</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Riley, 181.<br /> +<br /> +Rivet, 20.<br /> +<br /> +Robertson, 241, 299, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Robespierre, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Robinson, 232, 260, 261, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Robin Hood, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rochelle, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rochester, 216, 266, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rochefoucault, 217, 218, 338.<br /> +<br /> +Rockingham, 145.<br /> +<br /> +Rockport, 16.<br /> +<br /> +Roebuck, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rœderer, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rogers, 279, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rogerson, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Roma, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Roman, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_619">619</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Romans, 68, 106, 131, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>, <a href="#Page_594">594</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Roman Catholics, <a href="#Page_600">600</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rome, 87, 89, 263, 343, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Romilly, 207, 346.<br /> +<br /> +Romulus, 105, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rosamond, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Roscius, 215.<br /> +<br /> +Rose Cullender, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rose in Bloom, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ross, <a href="#Page_641">641</a>, <a href="#Page_645">645</a>, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>, <a href="#Page_647">647</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rothschild, 15, 54.<br /> +<br /> +Rous, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Rouse, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rousseau, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rowlett, 82.<br /> +<br /> +Roxbury, 220, 221, 227, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Royal Society, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_644">644</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rue d’Enfer, 39, 42.<br /> +<br /> +Rufus, 320.<br /> +<br /> +Runjeet Singh, <a href="#Page_570">570</a>, <a href="#Page_571">571</a>, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Russell, 29.<br /> +<br /> +Rush, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rushworth, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Russia, 276.<br /> +<br /> +Russians, 129, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ruthven, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Rutland Herald, 318, 331.<br /> +<br /> +Rymer’s Fœdera, 349, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">S.</span><br /> +<br /> +St. Andrew, 55.<br /> +<br /> +St. Anne, 56.<br /> +<br /> +St. Augustine, 51.<br /> +<br /> +St. Clara, 52.<br /> +<br /> +St. Christophers, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Croix, 11, 52, 98, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Denis, 73, 75.<br /> +<br /> +St. Edmunds Bury, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. James, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Katherine, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Luke, 55.<br /> +<br /> +St. Margaret, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Martins, 124.<br /> +<br /> +St. Mary, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Matthew, 217.<br /> +<br /> +St. Michael, 57, 124.<br /> +<br /> +St. Omers, 263, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Paul, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Paul’s, 225, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Peter, 56.<br /> +<br /> +St. Pierre, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Richard, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +St. Saba, 122.<br /> +<br /> +St. Saturnin, 37.<br /> +<br /> +St. Thomas, 56, 321, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sabine, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Saburra, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sackville, 145, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Salem, 54.<br /> +<br /> +Salewarp, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Salisbury, 307, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>, <a href="#Page_669">669</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sallust, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Salmon, 87.<br /> +<br /> +Salter, <a href="#Page_550">550</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Saltonstall, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Samee, <a href="#Page_665">665</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Samson, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Samuel, 111, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_660">660</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Samuels, 15.<br /> +<br /> +Sancho Panza, 192, 265.<br /> +<br /> +Sanderson, 131.<br /> +<br /> +Sanson, <a href="#Page_633">633</a>, <a href="#Page_635">635</a>, <a href="#Page_636">636</a>, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sardinia, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Sargent, 180, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sarsaparilla, 133.<br /> +<br /> +Sarum, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Saul, 16, 67, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_617">617</a>, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Saulien, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Saunders, 176.<br /> +<br /> +Sauvages, 101.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_697" id="Page_697">[Pg 697]</a></span><br /> +Savage, 55.<br /> +<br /> +Savoy, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Scaliger, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Scharsegin, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>, <a href="#Page_621">621</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Schmidt, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Schridieder, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Scipio Africanus, 22, 216.<br /> +<br /> +Scott, 49, 227, 269, 360, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Scrope, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Scutari, 22.<br /> +<br /> +Segor, 117.<br /> +<br /> +Seignelay, 239.<br /> +<br /> +Seltridge, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Selkirk, 171.<br /> +<br /> +Selwyn, 179, 237, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Seneca, 106, 107, 168, 169, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_585">585</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Senisino, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Serampore, 281.<br /> +<br /> +Sergius Orator, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Servius, 97, 279.<br /> +<br /> +Sevrès, <a href="#Page_671">671</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sewall, 142, 165, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>, <a href="#Page_630">630</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Seymour, 133, 136, <a href="#Page_608">608</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shades, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shakspeare, 83, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_658">658</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shandois, 77, 82.<br /> +<br /> +Sharp, 93.<br /> +<br /> +Shattuck, 222, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shaw, 112, 221, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shays, 941.<br /> +<br /> +Shea, 54.<br /> +<br /> +Sheerness, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shelburne, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shelden, 261.<br /> +<br /> +Sheldon, 314, 327.<br /> +<br /> +Shelson, 299.<br /> +<br /> +Sheridan, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shirley, 291, 297, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shochoh, <a href="#Page_615">615</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shouldham, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Shrewsbury, 320.<br /> +<br /> +Shute, 298.<br /> +<br /> +Shylock, 171.<br /> +<br /> +Siberia, 35.<br /> +<br /> +Sicily, 33, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sicilies, the Two, 89.<br /> +<br /> +Siddim, 117.<br /> +<br /> +Sidney, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sigal, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sigourney, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Simmons, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Skinner, 309, 331.<br /> +<br /> +Smallpiece, <a href="#Page_598">598</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Smith, Sidney, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Smith, 24, 27, 71, 152, 164, 227, 289, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>, <a href="#Page_591">591</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Smink, 101.<br /> +<br /> +Smollett, 241, 243.<br /> +<br /> +Snow, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Socrates, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sodom, 117, 119, 120, 123, 215, 221.<br /> +<br /> +Sodoma, 122.<br /> +<br /> +Solomon, 192.<br /> +<br /> +Solon, 209.<br /> +<br /> +Somersett, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Somnium Scipionis, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Soo Chune, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Soong, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sophia Charlotte, 28.<br /> +<br /> +Sorbiere, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sosigenes, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Southampton, 135.<br /> +<br /> +Southwick, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Spain, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Spaniards, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Sparks, 62, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Speed, 76, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Spelman, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Spitalfields, 67, 256.<br /> +<br /> +Spooner, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Spring, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Springett, 252.<br /> +<br /> +Sprott, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stafford, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stair, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stanford, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stanhope, <a href="#Page_593">593</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Starkie, 192.<br /> +<br /> +Staunford, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Steele, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stephanus, 105.<br /> +<br /> +Stephens, 117, 118, 121, 122, 123.<br /> +<br /> +Sterne, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Sternhold, 231, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Steuben, 62.<br /> +<br /> +Stevens, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stevenson, 232.<br /> +<br /> +Stewart, <a href="#Page_609">609</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stillman, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stirling Castle, 95.<br /> +<br /> +Stirrington, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stockholm, 52.<br /> +<br /> +Stone Chapel, 296.<br /> +<br /> +Story, 268.<br /> +<br /> +Stow, 20, 67, 346, 349, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stowell, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Strabo, <a href="#Page_592">592</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Streatfield, 105.<br /> +<br /> +Strype, 77, 81, 82, 88, 139, 279, 280, 281, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stuart, <a href="#Page_603">603</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stuarts, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Stubbe, <a href="#Page_594">594</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sue, <a href="#Page_639">639</a>, <a href="#Page_640">640</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Suetonius, 29, 67, 79, 98, 99, 107, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Suffolk, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sully, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sulmo, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sumner, 19, 132.<br /> +<br /> +Sunderland, 89, 233.<br /> +<br /> +Surinam, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sweden, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Swedenborg, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Swedes, <a href="#Page_661">661</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Swift, 32, 193, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Swingford, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Switzerland, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Sykes, 244.<br /> +<br /> +Sylla, 63, 97.<br /> +<br /> +Sylvester, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Syracuse, 33.<br /> +<br /> +Syrens, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Syria, 34, 88.<br /> +<br /> +Syrians, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">T.</span><br /> +<br /> +Tacitus, 29, 99, 107.<br /> +<br /> +Taheite, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tailor, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tappan, 58, 60.<br /> +<br /> +Tarpeian Rock, <a href="#Page_618">618</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tasman, 129.<br /> +<br /> +Tate, 31, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Taylor, 84, 110, 157, 215, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>, <a href="#Page_662">662</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Taunton, 235.<br /> +<br /> +Tees, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Templeman, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Terence, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tertullian, 122.<br /> +<br /> +Testamenta Vetusta, <a href="#Page_648">648</a>, <a href="#Page_649">649</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tewksbury, <a href="#Page_655">655</a>, <a href="#Page_673">673</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thacher, 31, 58, 61, 126, 127, <a href="#Page_568">568</a>, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thebes, 16, 32.<br /> +<br /> +Theodolphus, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Theodosius, 36.<br /> +<br /> +Theophrastus, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thessalus, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thessaly, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thevet, 118.<br /> +<br /> +Thiermeyer, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thomas, 346, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thomas of Canterbury, 281.<br /> +<br /> +Thompson, 86.<br /> +<br /> +Thornton, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, <a href="#Page_604">604</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Thurlow, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tiberius, 98.<br /> +<br /> +Tibullus, 100, 160.<br /> +<br /> +Tierney, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tilbury, <a href="#Page_670">670</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tillotson, 178, 238, 240, 262, 266.<br /> +<br /> +Timoleon, 12.<br /> +<br /> +Tinville, <a href="#Page_638">638</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tonga Islands, 129.<br /> +<br /> +Tongataboo, 129.<br /> +<br /> +Tonstrina, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tortugas, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Touchet, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tournay, 67.<br /> +<br /> +Tower Hill, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_698" id="Page_698">[Pg 698]</a></span><br /> +Townshend, 145.<br /> +<br /> +Trajan, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Trenchard, 265.<br /> +<br /> +Trent, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tresham, 77.<br /> +<br /> +Treviso, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Troughton, <a href="#Page_644">644</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Troutbeck, 297.<br /> +<br /> +Troy, 322, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Trunnion, 221.<br /> +<br /> +Truro, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tanfugge, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tubero, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tuck, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tuckett, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tuckey, 129, 130.<br /> +<br /> +Tudor, 76.<br /> +<br /> +Tunbrugge, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Turkey, 106.<br /> +<br /> +Turkish Empire, <a href="#Page_672">672</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Turks, 123.<br /> +<br /> +Turenne, 73, 75.<br /> +<br /> +Turner, 155, 157, 231, <a href="#Page_570">570</a>, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Twiss, 230.<br /> +<br /> +Tyburn, 340, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Tyler, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">U.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ucalegon, 143.<br /> +<br /> +Ula-Deguisi, 123.<br /> +<br /> +Ulysses, 106, 109, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.<br /> +<br /> +United States, 347, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_610">610</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Usher, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Uxbridge, 16.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">V.</span><br /> +<br /> +Val de Grace, 68.<br /> +<br /> +Valentia, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Valerius Maximus, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vallemont, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Valois, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Valvasor, <a href="#Page_620">620</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Van Buren, 85, 95, 96.<br /> +<br /> +Van Butchell, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vandyke, 137.<br /> +<br /> +Van Gelder, 59.<br /> +<br /> +Van Pronk, 25.<br /> +<br /> +Vans, 184.<br /> +<br /> +Van Wart, 63.<br /> +<br /> +Varden, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vardy, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Varro, <a href="#Page_583">583</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vassal, 296.<br /> +<br /> +Vaughan, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Velleius Paterculus, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vere, <a href="#Page_654">654</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Verney, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vermont, 114.<br /> +<br /> +Veronica, 57.<br /> +<br /> +Verulam, 258.<br /> +<br /> +Vespasian, 29, 67, 98.<br /> +<br /> +Vesuvius, 121.<br /> +<br /> +Vexius Valens, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Victoria, 208.<br /> +<br /> +Victory, <a href="#Page_646">646</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vieq d’Azyr, 37.<br /> +<br /> +Vienna, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Villars, <a href="#Page_607">607</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Vincent, 256, 257, 258.<br /> +<br /> +Virgil, 76, 79, 97, 99, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Virginia, 153, 154.<br /> +<br /> +Volney, 117, 119, 121.<br /> +<br /> +Voltaire, 217, <a href="#Page_637">637</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">W.</span><br /> +<br /> +Wade, <a href="#Page_570">570</a>, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>, <a href="#Page_575">575</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wakefield, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Waldo, 90, 302.<br /> +<br /> +Walpole, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_629">629</a>, <a href="#Page_674">674</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Waltham, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Walsingham, 65, 83, 84, <a href="#Page_650">650</a>, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ward, 281, 282, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Ward’s Curwen, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Warre, 235, 236.<br /> +<br /> +Warren, 55, 66, 222, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_597">597</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Warwick, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Washington, 62, 277, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Waterhouse, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Waterloo, 132.<br /> +<br /> +Watts, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Webb, 91, 126, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Webster, 159, 160, 271, 280, 335, 336, 337.<br /> +<br /> +Wedgewood, 64.<br /> +<br /> +Weever, 76, 124.<br /> +<br /> +Wellesley, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wellington, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wells, 273.<br /> +<br /> +Welsh, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wendell, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wentworth, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Westminster, 37, 134.<br /> +<br /> +Westminster Abbey, 34, 78, 136, 290, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Weston, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Westwood, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wharton, 227.<br /> +<br /> +Whelpley, 322.<br /> +<br /> +Whipple, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_596">596</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Whiston, 120.<br /> +<br /> +White, 82.<br /> +<br /> +Whitehall, 134.<br /> +<br /> +Whitehead, 256, 257, 258.<br /> +<br /> +Whitehurst, 158.<br /> +<br /> +White Plains, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wiche, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wigmore, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wilkes, 145, <a href="#Page_605">605</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Willard, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.<br /> +<br /> +William the Conqueror, <a href="#Page_614">614</a>.<br /> +<br /> +William and Mary, 248.<br /> +<br /> +William III., 232, 233, 248, 253.<br /> +<br /> +William IV., 37, 207, 208.<br /> +<br /> +Williams, 27, 29, 63, 164, 204.<br /> +<br /> +Williamson, <a href="#Page_630">630</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Willis, 88, 181.<br /> +<br /> +Wilts, <a href="#Page_656">656</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wiltshire, <a href="#Page_677">677</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Winchelsea, <a href="#Page_606">606</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Winchester, 220, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Windsor, 133, 135, 136.<br /> +<br /> +Winkle, 281.<br /> +<br /> +Winslow, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>, <a href="#Page_595">595</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Winterbottom, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Winthrop, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wisigoths, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wisket, <a href="#Page_628">628</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wode, <a href="#Page_632">632</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wolton, <a href="#Page_678">678</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wood, 133, 181, 232, 248, 249, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>, <a href="#Page_613">613</a>, <a href="#Page_642">642</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Woodbridge, <a href="#Page_550">550 to 564</a>, passim.<br /> +<br /> +Woodcock, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Woods, 127.<br /> +<br /> +Worcester, 124, <a href="#Page_651">651</a>, <a href="#Page_652">652</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Woronzow, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wraxall, <a href="#Page_622">622</a>, <a href="#Page_623">623</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Wyatt, <a href="#Page_631">631</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">Y.</span><br /> +<br /> +Yale, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>.<br /> +<br /> +York, <a href="#Page_675">675</a>.<br /> +<br /> +York, Duke of, 252, 256.<br /> +<br /> +Yorktown, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Younge, <a href="#Page_676">676</a>.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="huge">Z.</span><br /> +<br /> +Zaire, 129.<br /> +<br /> +Zeleucus, 342.<br /> +<br /> +Zeno, 49.<br /> +<br /> +Zeres, 56.<br /> +<br /> +Zimmerman, 347.<br /> +<br /> +Zion, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>.<br /> +<br /> +Zisca, 26.<br /> +<br /> +Zoar, 121.<br /> +<br /> +Zophar, 217.<br /> +</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><strong>Footnotes:</strong></p> + +<p><a name='f_1' id='f_1' href='#fna_1'>[1]</a> Hist, of Charles V., vol. v. page 139, Oxford ed. 1825.</p> + +<p><a name='f_2' id='f_2' href='#fna_2'>[2]</a> Lond. Quart. Rev., vol. lxxvi. page 161.</p> + +<p><a name='f_3' id='f_3' href='#fna_3'>[3]</a> Nearly opposite the residence of Dr. Lemuel Hayward, deceased, where +Hayward Place now is.</p> + +<p><a name='f_4' id='f_4' href='#fna_4'>[4]</a> Woodbridge, I suppose, belonged to some military company, whose arms +and accoutrements were probably kept at the White Horse tavern, under the +charge of Robert Handy.</p> + +<p><a name='f_5' id='f_5' href='#fna_5'>[5]</a> <i>Hog Alley.</i> See Bonner’s plan, of 1722.</p> + +<p><a name='f_6' id='f_6' href='#fna_6'>[6]</a> Afterwards Richard II.</p> + +<p><a name='f_7' id='f_7' href='#fna_7'>[7]</a> His natural son.</p> + +<p><a name='f_8' id='f_8' href='#fna_8'>[8]</a> John of Gaunt.</p> + +<p><a name='f_9' id='f_9' href='#fna_9'>[9]</a> An English mark was two-thirds of a pound sterling, or 13s. 4d.</p> + +<p><a name='f_10' id='f_10' href='#fna_10'>[10]</a> A church book.</p> + +<p><a name='f_11' id='f_11' href='#fna_11'>[11]</a> Breviary.</p> + +<p><a name='f_12' id='f_12' href='#fna_12'>[12]</a> A button of gold.</p> + +<p><a name='f_13' id='f_13' href='#fna_13'>[13]</a> A button.</p> + +<p><a name='f_14' id='f_14' href='#fna_14'>[14]</a> Round funeral tapers.</p> + +<p><a name='f_15' id='f_15' href='#fna_15'>[15]</a> Margaret Plantagenet, grand-daughter of King Edward I.</p> + +<p><a name='f_16' id='f_16' href='#fna_16'>[16]</a> The badge of the house of Lancaster.</p> + +<p><a name='f_17' id='f_17' href='#fna_17'>[17]</a> Richard II.</p> + +<p><a name='f_18' id='f_18' href='#fna_18'>[18]</a> A culverin.</p> + +<p><a name='f_19' id='f_19' href='#fna_19'>[19]</a> Dugdale says these were jewels, hanging over the forehead, on +bodkins, thrust through the hair.</p> + +<p><a name='f_20' id='f_20' href='#fna_20'>[20]</a> Pale or peach-colored rubies.</p> + +<p><a name='f_21' id='f_21' href='#fna_21'>[21]</a> This effigy is referred to by Walpole, in his Anecdotes of Painting, +vol. i. p. 37.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><strong>Transcriber’s Notes:</strong></p> + +<p>No. CXIX. ends with the phrase “The symptoms” as is presented in the original text.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dealings With The Dead, by +A Sexton of the Old School + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEALINGS WITH THE DEAD *** + +***** This file should be named 39675-h.htm or 39675-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/6/7/39675/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau, Meredith Bach and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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