Dealings With The Dead Volume II Part 13

There is a pleasant legend, in the humbler relations of life, to which I have listened, in earlier days, and which ill.u.s.trates the principle, involved in these remarks. Molly Moodey was an excellent cook, in the family of an avaricious old widower, whose G.o.d was mammon, and who had been deterred, by the expensiveness of the proceeding, from taking a second G.o.ddess.

The only sentiment, in any way resembling the tender pa.s.sion, which had ever been awakened, in the bosom of Molly Moodey, was a pa.s.sion for lotteries.

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.

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.

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--"HIGHEST PRIZE! 20,000. No. 26,666 the fortunate number, sold at our fortunate office, in one entire ticket, SKINNER, KETCHUM, & CLUTCH, and will be paid to the lucky proprietor, after the 27th current."

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.

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?"

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.

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 G.o.d," exclaimed the poor old gentleman--"20,000 for a sheet of bunns!"

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--"_Twenty thousand pounds for a sheet of bunns!_"

How true to reality are the gay words of Tom Moore--

"In wedlock a species of lottery lies, Where in blanks and in prizes we deal."

No. CXVII.

The Archbishop of Cambray, the amiable Fenelon, has remarked, that G.o.d 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.

The early Christians were opposed to New Year's Gifts, as fixedly, as some of the latter Christians are opposed to the song 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 unG.o.dly proceedings, till the world shall be no more.

The New Year's gifts of the Romans were, originally, exceedingly simple.

Sprigs of vervain, gathered in a wood, consecrated to Strenia, the G.o.ddess 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 _Strenae_. 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.

When I contemplate those ample storehouses of all, that is gorgeous and glittering--those receptacles of useless finery, which n.o.body 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 _figs, dates and honey_.

Are there not individuals, who, upon the reception of some gaudy and expensive bagatelle, are ready to exclaim, with the c.o.c.k in aesop--"_I had rather have one grain of dear, delicious, barley, than all the jewels under the sun!_"

I am not so utopian, as to antic.i.p.ate any immediate or very extensive reformation, in this practice, which, excellent as it is, when restrained within reasonable bounds, is, unquestionably, under certain circ.u.mstances, productive of evil. It is not to be expected, that expensive _bijoux_, for new year's gifts, will speedily give place to _sugar and mola.s.ses_. 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.

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.

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 _Quintilis_ and _s.e.xtilis_, have been changed, in honor of _Julius_ and _Augustus_.

Numa added two months, _Januarius_ and _Februarius_. 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 _intercalary_ 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.

Julius Caesar, with the aid of Sosigenes of Alexandria, adjusted this astronomical account. To bring matters into order, Suetonius, in his life of Julius Caesar, 40, says, they were constrained to make one final year of fifteen months, to close the confusion.

Hence arose the Julian or Solar year, the year of the Christian world. The "_alteration of the style_" 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.

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.

The commencement of the year has been a.s.signed to very different periods.

In some of the Italian states, as recently as 1745, the year has been taken to commence, at the Annunciation, 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.

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.

The Chaldaean and Egyptian years commenced with the Autumnal equinox. The j.a.panese and the Chinese date their year from the new moon, nearest the Winter solstice.

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 reappearance in the horizon, after the usual _quarantine_, or absence of forty days. The Turks and Arabs date the advent of their year, upon the sixteenth of July.

In our own country, the year, in former times, commenced in March. In the Ma.s.s. Hist. Coll., vol. xvii. p. 136, may be found certain votes, pa.s.sed in Boston, Nov. 30, 1635, among which is the following--"_that all such as have allotments for habitations allotted unto them, shall build thereon, before the first of the first month next, called March_." 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 _eighth Moneth_, 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 _eighth_ month, March was necessarily their _first_. Whatever the practice 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.

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.

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 _a happy new year_, showing, that the first of January, for ordinary purposes, and in common parlance, was accounted New Year's day.

The little people, of both s.e.xes, 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.

No. CXVIII.

Dion remarks, while speaking of Trajan--_he that lies in a golden urn, eminently above the earth, is not likely to rest in peace_. 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 generation had delighted to honor; or the motiveless spirit of mischief will violate the sanct.i.ty of the tomb.

When Charles I. was buried, in the same vault with Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, a soldier, as Wood relates, in his Athenae 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.

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 ident.i.ty, 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:--

"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 s.e.xton's man.

The hair, which had been carefully combed, 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 s.e.xtons, 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."

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--"_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_." 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, Ma.s.s., 1839.

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 Maccabaeus, 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 pa.s.sing through a village, in the State of Maine, to be a wish "_to see how a fellow would feel, who killed an elephant_."

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, 1700.--John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, erected this monument, 1720." It is not commonly known, that the original bust was changed, by the d.u.c.h.ess, 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--

--------Quis temerarius ausit-- Sacrilega turbare manu venerabile bustum.

The monument of Ben Jonson is an elegant tablet, with a festoon of masks, and the inscription--_Oh rare Ben Jonson!_ 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.