Dealings With The Dead Volume I Part 2

Not many years after, a worthy judge, a reverencer of Parsons, and a devotee to precedent, imposed a fine of five dollars, upon a young sloven, who but half completed his job, and left a respectable citizen of Maine, half drawn out from his grave, with a rope about his neck.

It seems scarcely conceivable, that a pittance should tempt a man to take his fellow's life, that he might sell the body to a surgeon. In 1809, Burke was executed in Edinburgh, for this species of murder. It was his trade. Victims were lured, by this vampyre, to "the chambers of death,"

strangled or suffocated, without any visible mark of murder, and then sold to the surgeons.

This trade has been attempted in London, at a much later day. Dec. 5, 1831, a wretch, named Bishop, and his accomplice, Williams, were hung, for the murder of an Italian boy, Carlo Ferrari, poor and friendless, whose body they sold to the surgeons. They confessed the murder of Ferrari and several others, whose bodies were disposed of, in a similar manner.

From a desire to promote the cause of science, individuals have, now and then, bequeathed their bodies to particular surgeons. These bequests have been rarely insisted upon, by the legatees, and the intentions of the testator have seldom been carried out, by the executors; a remarkable exception, however, occurred, in the case of the celebrated Jeremy Bentham, an account of which I must defer for the present, for funerals are not the only things, which may be of unreasonable length.

No. VIII.

That eminent friend of science and of man, Jeremy Bentham, held the prejudice against dissection, in profound contempt, and bequeathed his body, for that object, to Dr. Fordyce, in 1769. Dr. Fordyce died, in 1792, and Mr. Bentham, who survived him, and seems to have set his heart upon being dissected, aware of the difficulties, that might obstruct his purpose, chose three friends, from whom he exacted a solemn promise, to fulfil his wishes. Accordingly, Mr. Bentham's body was carried to the Webb Street School of Anatomy and Surgery, and publicly dissected, June 9, 1832, by Dr. Southwood Smith, who delivered an admirable lecture, upon that occasion. I wholly object to such a practice, not, upon my honor, from selfish motives, though it would spoil our business; but because the moral injury, which would result, from such a disposition of mortal remains, would be so much greater, than the surgical good. Mr. Bentham's example is not likely to be commonly adopted.

A great amount of needless care is sometimes taken, by the living, in regard to their relics, and their obsequies, which care belongs, manifestly, to survivors. Akin to the preparation of one's coffin, and storing it in one's domicil, for years perhaps, is the preparation of one's shroud, and death cap, and all the et caetera of laying out. In ninety and nine cases, in every one hundred, these things are done, for the gratification of personal vanity, to attract attention, and to procure a small sample of that lamentation, which the desolate widower and orphans will pour forth, _one of these days_. It is observed, by one of the daughters, that the mother is engaged in some mysterious piece of needle work. "What is it, dear mother?" "Ah, my child, you should not inquire. We all must die--it is your poor mother's winding sheet." The daughter is convulsed, and pours forth a profluvium of tears. The judicious parent soothes, and moralizes, and is delighted. The daughter flies to her sisters; and, gathering in some private chamber, their tears are poured forth, as the fact is announced. The husband returns--the eyes of his household are like beet roots. They gather round their miserable meal. The husband has been informed. The sweet-breads go down, untasted. How grateful these evidences of sympathy to the wife and mother! A case occurred in my practice, of this very description, where the lady survived, married again, and the shroud, sallowed by thirty years' _non user_, was given, in an hour of need, to a poor family.

Montaigne, vol. 1, page 17, Lond., 1811, says, "I was by no means pleased with a story, told me of a relation of mine, that, being arrived at a very old age and tormented with the stone, he spent the last hours of his life in an extraordinary solicitude, about ordering the pomp and ceremony of his funeral, pressing all the men of condition, who came to see him, to promise their attendance at his grave."

Sophia Charlotte, the sister of George I., of England, a woman of excellent understanding, was the wife of Frederic I. of Prussia. When dying, one of her attendants observed how sadly the king would be afflicted by her death. "With respect to him," she replied, "I am perfectly at ease. His mind will be completely occupied in arranging the ceremonial of my funeral; and, if nothing goes wrong in the procession, he will be quite consoled for my loss."

Man goeth to his long home, as of yore, but the mourners do not go about the streets, as they did, when I was young. The afternoons were given to the tolling of bells, and funeral processions. This was about the period, when the citizens began to feel their privations, as cow-yards grew scarce; and, when our old friend, Ben Russell, told the public, in his Centinel, that it was no wonder they were abominably crowded, and pinched for gardens, for Boston actually contained seventeen thousand inhabitants.

I have seen a funeral procession, of great length, going south, by the Old South Church, pa.s.sing another, of equal length, going north, and delaying the progress of a third, coming down School Street. The dead were not left to bury the dead, in those days. Invitations to funerals were sent round, as they are at present, to b.a.l.l.s and parties. Oth.e.l.lo Pollard and Domingo Williams had full employment then. I have heard it stated of Oth.e.l.lo, that, having in hand two bundles of invitations, one for a fandango, of some sort, and the other for a funeral, and being in an evil condition, he made sad work in the delivery. Printed invitations are quite common, in some countries.

I have seen one, in handbill form, for the funeral of a Madame Barbut, an old widow, in Martinique, closing with these words, "_un de profundis, si vous_," etc. Roman funerals were distinguished as _indictiva_ and _tacita_: to the former, persons were invited, by a crier; the others were private. The calling out, according to a prearranged list, which always gave offence to somebody, was of old the common practice here. Such was the usage in Rome, where the director was styled _dominus funeris_ or _designator_. I doubt, if martinets are more tenacious of their rank, in the army, than mourners, at a funeral.

There was a practice, in Rome, which would appear very grotesque, at the present time. Pipers, _tibicines_, preceded the corpse, with players and buffoons, who danced and sang, some of whom imitated the voice, manner and gestures of the defunct. Of these, Suetonius gives some account, in his lives of Tiberius, Vespasian, and Caesar.

The practice of watching a corpse, until the time of burying or burning, was very ancient, and in use with the Greeks and Romans. The bodies of eminent men were borne to the grave, by the most distinguished citizens, not acting merely as pall bearers, but sustaining the body on their shoulders. Suetonius states, that Julius Caesar was borne by the magistrates; Augustus by the senators. Tacitus, Ann. iii. 2, informs us, that Germanicus was supported, on the shoulders of the tribunes and centurions. Children, who died, before they were weaned, were carried to the pile by their mothers. This must have been a painful office.

No. IX.

When I first undertook, there was scarcely any variety, either in the inscriptions, or devices, upon gravestones: death's heads and crossbones; scythes and hour gla.s.ses; angels, with rather a diabolical expression; all-seeing eyes, with an ominous squint; squares and compa.s.ses; such were the common devices; and every third or fourth tablet was inscribed:

Thou traveller that pa.s.sest by, As thou art now, so once was I; As I am now, thou soon shalt be, Prepare for death and follow me.

No wonder people were wearied to death, or within an inch of it, by reading this lugubrious quatrain, for the hundredth time. We had not then learned, from that vivacious people, who have neither taste nor talent for being sad, to convert our graveyards into pleasure grounds.

To be sure, even in my early days, and long before, an audacious spirit, now and then, would burst the bonds of this mortuary sameness, and take a bolder flight. We have an example of this, on the tablet of the Rev.

Joseph Moody, in the graveyard at York, Maine.

Although this stone may moulder into dust, Yet Joseph Moody's name continue must.

And another in Dorchester:

Here lies our Captain and Mayor of Suffolk, Was withall, A G.o.dly magistrate was he, and major general.

Two troops of hors with him here came, such Worth his love did crave.

Ten companyes also mourning marcht To his grave.

Let all that read be sure to keep the faith as He has don; With Christ he lives now crowned, his name Was HUMPHREY ATHERTON, He dyed the 16 of September, 1661.

The following, also, in the graveyard at Attleborough, upon the tablet of the Rev. Peter Thacher, who died in 1785, is no common effort, and in the style of Tate and Brady:

Whom Papists not With superst.i.tious fire, Would dare to adore, We justly may admire.

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

The two last lines seem by another hand:

Here lies the best of slaves, Now turning into dust, Caesar, the Ethiopian, craves A place, among the just.

His faithful soul is fled To realms of Heavenly light, And by the blood that Jesus shed, Is changed from black to white.

January 15, he quitted the stage, In the 77 year of his age.

An erratum, ever to be regretted, is certainly quite unexpected, on a gravestone. In the graveyard at Norfolk, Va., there is a handsome marble monument, sacred to the memory of Mrs. Margaret, &c., wife of, &c., who died, &c.: "_Erratum, for Margaret read Martha_."

In olden time, there was a provost of bonny Dundee, and his name was d.i.c.kson. He was a right jolly provost, and seemed resolved to have one good joke beyond the grave. He bequeathed ten pounds, apiece, to three men, remarkable above their fellows, for avarice, and dulness, on condition, that they should join in the composition of his epitaph, in rhyme and metre. They met--the task was terrible--but, Dr. Johnson would have said, what will not a Scotchman undertake, for ten pounds! It need not be long, said one--a line apiece, said the second--shall I begin? said the third. This was objected to, of course; for whoever commenced was relieved from the onus of the rhyme. They drew lots for this vantage ground, and he, who won, after a copious perspiration, produced the following line--

Here lies d.i.c.kson, Provost of Dundee.

This was very much admired--brief and sententious--his name, his official station, his death, and the place of his burial were happily compressed in a single line. After severe exertion, the second line was produced:

Here lies d.i.c.kson, here lies he.

It was objected, that this was tautological; and that it did not even go so far as the first, which set forth the official character of the deceased. It was said, in reply, by one of the executors, who happened to be present, and who acted as _amicus poetae_, that the second line would have been tautological, if it _had_ set forth the official station, which it did not; and that as there had once been a female provost, the last word effectually established the s.e.x of d.i.c.kson, which was very important.

The third legatee, though he had leave of absence for an hour, and refreshed his spirit, by a ramble on the Frith of Tay, was utterly unable to complete the epitaph. At an adjourned meeting, however, he produced the following line,

Hallelujah! Hallelujee!

There are some beautiful epitaphs in our language--there are half a dozen, perhaps, which are exquisitely so, and I believe there are not many more.

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

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

Beneath this verdant hillock lies Demer, the wealthy and the wise.

His heirs, that he might safely rest, Have put his carca.s.s in a chest-- The very chest, in which, they say, His other self, his money, lay.

And if his heirs continue kind To that dear self he left behind, I dare believe that four in five Will think his better half alive.

No. X.

Catacombs, hollows or cavities, according to the etymological import of the word, are, as every one knows, receptacles for the dead. They are found in many countries; the most ancient are those of Egypt and Thebes, which were visited in 1813 and 1818, by Belzoni. Psamatticus was a famous fellow, in his time: he was the founder of the kingdom of Egypt; and, after a siege of nearly three times the length of that at Troy, he captured the city of Azotus. The flight of the house of our lady of Loretto from Jerusalem, in a single night, would have seemed less miraculous to the Egyptians, than the transportation of the sarcophagus of Psamatticus, by a travelling gentleman, from Egypt to London. So it fell out, nevertheless. Belzoni penetrated into one of the pyramids of Ghizeh; he obtained free access to the tombs of the Egyptian kings, at Beban-el-Malook; and brought to England the sarcophagus of Psamatticus, exquisitely wrought of the finest Oriental alabaster. Verily kings have a slender chance, between the worms and the lovers of _vertu_. "Here lie the remains of G. Belzoni"--these brief words mark the grave of Belzoni himself, at Gato, near Benin in Africa, where he died, in December, 1823, safer in his traveller's robes, than if surrounded with aught to tempt the hand of avarice or curiosity. The best account of the Egyptian catacombs may be found in Belzoni's narrative, published in 1820.

The catacombs of Italy are vast caverns, in the via Appia, about three miles from Rome. They were supposed to be the sepulchres of martyrs, and have furnished more capital to priestcraft, for the traffic in relics, than would have accrued, for the purposes of agriculture, to the fortunate discoverer of a whole island of guano. The common opinion is, that they were heathen sepulchres--the _puticuli_ of the ancients. The catacombs of Naples, according to Bishop Burnet, are more magnificent than those of Rome. Catacombs have been found in Syracuse and Catanea, in Sicily, and in Malta.