Chapter III: Part 3

Shortly after this, a bill was presented, for digging the grave. It was in vain to protest, as before, and to assert, that no grave had been dug. The answer was the same; "the grave must be paid for; it will be dug or not, as you wish; such is the usage of the island; such is the law of Denmark." In due time, another demand was made, for carrying round invitations, and attendance upon the funeral. It was useless to say, that no invitations were sent--no funeral was had. "Such is the custom of the island; such is the law of Denmark." The reader, by this time, will be satisfied, that something is rotten in Denmark; this narrative appears so very improbable, that I deem it right to assure the reader the circumstances are stated faithfully, and that the clergyman referred to, is still living.

In commending a respectable frugality, in our dealings with the dead, not only with regard to their obsequies, but in relation to sepulchral and monumental expenditure, I oppose the interest of our profession, and cannot be accused of any selfish motive. A chaste simplicity is due to the occasion; for surely no more illy chosen hour can be given to the gratification of pride, than that, in which the very pride of man is humbled in the dust. How often have my thoughts descended from the costly, sculptured obelisk, to the carnival of worms below!

A well-set example of comely modesty, in these matters, would be productive of much advantage to the community. The man of common means, if he happen to be also a man of common sense, will not imitate the man of opulence, in the splendor of his equipage or furniture. But he will too readily enter into what he deems a righteous rivalry of funereal parade, and leave his debts unpaid, rather than abate one cubit, in the height of his monument, or obelisk. It is not now the custom to bury with the dead, or deposit with their ashes, as in urn burial, articles of use and value to the living. We have been taught, that those graves are the least likely to be violated, in which are deposited little else than mortal remains. But, in a certain sense, the dead can no longer be said to carry nothing with them. The silver and its workmanship alone, which are annually buried, furnish no inconsiderable item.

The outer coffin of Nathan Meyer Rothschild "was of fine oak, and so handsomely carved and decorated with massive silver handles, at both sides and ends, that it appeared more like a cabinet, or splendid piece of furniture, than a receptacle of the dead. A raised tablet of oak, on the breast, was carved with the arms of the deceased." The arms of the deceased! Very edifying to the worms, those cunning operatives, who work so skilfully, in silence and darkness! The arms of the deceased! Matthew Prior had some shrewd notions of heraldry. He wrote his own epitaph--

Heralds and nobles, by your leave,
Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior;
The son of Adam and of Eve;
Let Bourbon and Nassau go higher.

No. XVII.

My attention has been called, by a young disciple of the great Pontraci, "a sexton of the new school," to an interesting anecdote, which I have heard related, in days by-gone, and which has, more than once, appeared in print. It is, by many, believed, that the remains of Major Pitcairn, which were supposed to have been sent home to England, are still in this country, and that those of Lieutenant Shea were transmitted, by mistake. Whether _he_ or _Shea_ will ever remain doubtful. Major Pitcairn was killed, as is well known, at the battle of Bunker's Hill. Shea died of inflammation on the brain. They were alike in size. On the top of the head of the body, selected by the sexton of Christ Church, as the remains of Major Pitcairn, it is stated, there was a blistering plaster; and, from this circumstance, the impression has arisen, that the monument in Westminster Abbey, however sacred to the memory of Pitcairn, stands over the remains of Lieutenant Shea. There is not more uncertainty, in relation to the remains of Major Pitcairn, than has existed, in regard to the individual, by whose hands he fell; though it is now agreed, that he was shot by a black soldier, named Salem. Fifty men, at the lowest estimate, have died in the faith, that they killed Pitcairn. He was a man of large stature, fearless, and ever in the van, as he is represented by Marshall, at the battle of Lexington.

He was a palpable mark, for the muskets and rifles of the sharp-shooters. It is not improbable, that fifty barrels were levelled at his person, when he fell; and hence fifty claimants, for the merit of Pitcairn's destruction. Upon precisely similar grounds, rest the claims of Col. Johnson, for the killing of Tecumseh.

When the flesh has gone and nothing but the bones remain, it is almost impossible, to recognize the remains of any particular individual, buried hastily, as the fallen commonly are, after a battle, in one common grave; unless we are directed, by certain external indicia. In April, 1815, I officiated at the funeral of Dr. John Warren, brother of the patriot and soldier, who fell so gloriously, at Bunker's Hill, and whose death was said, by the British General, Howe, to be an offset, for five hundred men. Dr. James Jackson delivered the eulogy, on Dr. John Warren, in King's Chapel. General Warren was buried in the trenches, where he so bravely fell; and, when disinterred, in 1776, for removal to Boston, the remains were identified, by an inspection of the teeth, upon which an operation had been performed, the evidence of which remained. This testimony was doubtless corroborated, by the mark of the bullet on his forehead; for he was not a man to be wounded in the back. "The bullet which terminated his life," says Mr. A. H. Everett in his memoir, "was taken from the body, by Mr. Savage, an officer in the Custom House, and was carried by him to England. Several years afterwards, it was given by him at London, to the Rev. Mr. Montague of Dedham, Massachusetts, and is now in possession of his family."

These translations of the dead, from place to place, are full of uncertainty; and hence has arisen a marvellous and successful system of jugglery and priestcraft. The first translation of this kind, stated by Brady, in his Clavis, is that of Edward, king of the West Saxons. He was removed with great pomp from Wareham to the minster of Salisbury. Three years only had passed since his burial, and no error is imputed, in the relation. In the year 359, the Emperor Constantius was moved, by the spirit, to do something in this line; and he caused the remains of St. Andrew and St. Luke to be translated, from their original resting-places, to the temple of the twelve apostles, at Constantinople. Some little doubt might be supposed to hang over the question of identity, after such a lapse of years, in this latter case. From this eminent example, arose that eager search for the remains of saints, martyrs, and relics of various descriptions, which, for many centuries, filled the pockets of imposters, with gold, and the world, with idolatry. So great was the success of those, engaged in this lucrative employment, that John the Baptist became a perfect hydra. Heads of this great pioneer were discovered, in every direction. Some of the apostles were found, upon careful search, to be centipedes; and others to have had as many hands as Briareus. These monstrosities were too vast to be swallowed, without a miracle. Father John Freand, of Anecy, assured the faithful, that God was pleased to multiply these remains for their devotion. Consecration has been refused to churches, unprovided with relics. Their production therefore became indispensable. All the wines, produced in _Oporto_ and _Zeres de la Frontera_, furnish not a fourth part of the liquor, drunken, in London alone, under the names of Port and Sherry; and the bones of all the martyrs, were it possible to collect them, would not supply the occasions of the numerous churches, in Catholic countries. Misson says eleven holy lances are shown, in different places, for the true lance, that pierced the side of Christ.

Many egregious sinners have undoubtedly been dug up, and their bones worshipped, as the relics of genuine saints. Though not precisely to our purpose, it may not be uninteresting to the reader, to contemplate a catalogue of some few of the relics, exhibited to the faithful, as they are enumerated, by Bayle, Butler, Misson, Brady and others;--the lance--a piece of the cross--one of Christ's nails--five thorns of the crown--St. Peter's chain--a piece of the manger--a tooth of John the Baptist--one of St. Anne's arms--the towel, with which Christ wiped the feet of the apostles--one of his teeth--his seamless coat--the hem of his garment, which cured the diseased woman--a tear, which he shed over Lazarus, preserved by an angel, who gave it, in a vial, to Mary Magdalene--a piece of St. John the Evangelist's gown--a piece of the table cloth, used at the last supper--a finger of St. Andrew--a finger of John the Baptist--a rib of our Lord--the thumb of St. Thomas--a lock of Mary Magdalene's hair--two handkerchiefs, bearing impressions of Christ's face; one sent by our Lord, as a present to Aquarus, prince of Edessa; and the other given by him, at the foot of the cross, to a holy woman, named Veronica--the hem of Joseph's garment--a feather of the Holy Ghost--a finger of the Holy Ghost--a feather of the angel Gabriel--the waterpots, used at the marriage in Galilee--Enoch's slippers--a vial of the sweat of St. Michael, at the time of his set-to with the Devil. This short list furnishes a meagre show-box of that immense mass of merchandise, which formed the staple of priestcraft. These pretended relics were not only procured, at vast expense, but were occasionally given, and received, as collateral security for debts. Baldwin II. sent the point of the holy lance to Venice, as a pledge for a loan. It was redeemed by St. Lewis, King of France, who caused it to be placed in the holy chapel at Paris. The importation of this species of trumpery, into England, was forbidden, by many statutes; and, by 3. Jac. i., cap. 26, justices were empowered to search houses for such things, and to burn them.

It is pleasant to turn from these shadowy records to matters of reality and truth. There was an exhumation, some years ago, of the remains of a highly honorable and truly gallant man, for the purpose of returning them to his native land. Suspicions of a painful nature arose, in connection with that exhumation. Those suspicions were cleared away, most happily, by a venerable friend of mine, with whom I have conversed upon that interesting topic. I will give some account of the removal of Major Andre's remains, in my next.

No. XVIII.

Major John Andre, aid-de-camp to General Clinton, and adjutant general of the British army, was, as every well-read school-boy knows, hanged as a spy, October 2, 1780, at Tappan, a town of New York, about five miles from the north bank of the Hudson.

In June, 1818, by a vote of the Legislature of New York, the remains of that gallant Irishman, Major General Richard Montgomery, were removed from Quebec. Col. L. Livingston, his nephew, superintended the exhumation and removal. An old soldier, who had attended the funeral, forty-two years before, pointed out the grave. These relics were committed to the ground, once more, in St. Paul's church-yard in New York; and, by direction of the Congress of the United States, a costly marble monument was erected there, executed by M. Cassieres, at Paris. Nothing was omitted of pomp and pageantry, in honor of the gallant dead.

Still the remains of Andre, whose fate was deeply deplored, however just the punishment--still they continued, in that resting place, humble and obscure, to which they had been consigned, when taken from the gallows. The lofty honors, bestowed upon Montgomery, operated as a stimulus and a rebuke. Mr. James Buchanan, the British consul, admits their influence, in his memorable letter. He addressed a communication to the Duke of York, then commander-in-chief of the British army, suggesting the propriety of exhumating the remains of Andre, and returning them to England. The necessary orders were promptly issued, and Mr. Buchanan made his arrangements for the exhumation.

Mr. Demarat, a Baptist clergyman, at Tappan, was the proprietor of the little field, where the remains of Andre had been buried, and where they had reposed, for forty-one years, when, in the autumn of 1821, Mr. Buchanan requested permission to remove them. His intentions had become known--some human brute--some Christian dog, had sought to purchase, or to rent, the field of Mr. Demarat, for the purpose of extorting money, for permission to remove these relics. But the good man and true rejected the base proposal, and afforded every facility in his power.

A narrow pathway led to the eminence, where Andre had suffered--the grave was there, covered with a few loose stones and briars. There was nothing beside, to mark the spot--I am wrong--woman, who was last at the cross, and first at the tomb, had been there--there was a peach tree, which a lady had planted at the head, and whose roots had penetrated to the very bottom of the shallow grave, and entered the frail shell, and enveloped the skull with its fibres. Dr. Thacher, in a note to page 225 of his military journal, says, that the roots of two cedar trees "had wrapped themselves round the skull bone, like a fine netting." This is an error. Two cedars grew near the grave, which were sent to England, with the remains.

The point, where these relics lay, commanded a view of the surrounding country, and of the head-quarters of Washington, about a mile and a half distant. The field, which contained about ten acres, was cultivated--a small part only, around the consecrated spot, remained untilled. Upon the day of the exhumation, a multitude had gathered to the spot. After digging three feet from the surface, the operative paused, and announced, that his spade had touched the top of the coffin. The excitement was so great, at this moment, that it became necessary to form a cordon, around the grave. Mr. Buchanan proceeded carefully to remove the remaining earth, with his hands--a portion of the cover had been decomposed. When, at last, the entire top had been removed, the remains of this brave and unfortunate young man were exposed to view. The skeleton was in perfect order. "There," says Mr. Buchanan, "for the first time, I discovered that he had been a small man."

One by one, the assembled crowd passed round, and gazed upon the remains of Andre, whose fate had excited such intense and universal sensibility. These relics were then carefully transferred to a sarcophagus, prepared for their reception, and conveyed to England. They now repose beneath the sixth window, in the south aisle of Westminster Abbey. The monument near which they lie, was designed by Robert Adam, and executed by Van Gelder. Britannia reclines on a sarcophagus, and upon the pedestal is inscribed--"Sacred to the memory of Major Andre, who, raised by his merit, at an early period of life, to the rank of Adjutant General of the British forces in America, and, employed in an important but hazardous enterprise, fell a sacrifice to his zeal for his king and country, on 2d of October, 1780, aged twenty-nine, universally beloved and esteemed by the army, in which he served, and lamented even by his foes. His generous sovereign, King George III., has caused this monument to be erected." Nothing could have been prepared, in better taste. Here is not the slightest allusion to that great question, which posterity, having attained full age, has already, definitively, settled--the justice of his fate. A box, wrought from one of the cedar trees, and lined with gold, was transmitted to Mr. Demarat, by the Duke of York; and a silver inkstand was presented to Mr. James Buchanan, by the surviving sisters of Major Andre.

Thus far, all things were in admirable keeping. It was, therefore, a matter of deep regret, that Mr. James Buchanan should have thought proper to disturb their harmony, by suggestions, painfully offensive to every American heart. Those suggestions, it is true, have been acknowledged to be entirely groundless. But that gentleman's original letter, extensively circulated here, and transmitted to England, has, undoubtedly, conveyed these offensive insinuations, where the subsequent admission of his error is not likely to follow. Mr. Buchanan, on the strength of some loose suggestions, at Tappan, and elsewhere, corroborated by an examination of the contents of the coffin, had assumed it to be true, or highly probable, that the body of Andre had been stripped, after the execution, from mercenary, or other equally unworthy, motives. This impression he hastily conveyed to the world. I will endeavor to present this matter, in its true light, in my next communication.

No. XIX.

After having removed the entire cover of Andre's coffin, "I descended," says Mr. Buchanan, "and, with my own hands, raked the dust together, to ascertain whether he had been buried in his regimentals, or not, as it was rumored, among the assemblage, that he was stripped: for, if buried in his regimentals, I expected to find the buttons of his clothes, which would have disproved the rumor; but I did not find a single button, nor any article, save a string of leather, that had tied his hair." Mr. Buchanan had evidently arrived at the conclusion, that Andre had been stripped. In this conclusion he was perfectly right. He had also inferred, that this act had been done, with base motives. In this inference, he was perfectly wrong. "Those," continues he, "who permitted the outrage, or who knew of it, had no idea, that the unfeeling act they then performed would be blazoned to the world, near half a century, after the event." All this is entirely gratuitous and something worse. General Washington's head-quarters were near at hand. Every circumstance was sure to be reported, for the excitement was intense; and the knowledge of such an act, committed for any unworthy purpose, would have been instantly conveyed to Sir Henry Clinton, and blazoned to the world, some forty years before the period of Mr. Buchanan's discovery.

Dr. James Thacher, in his military journal, states, that Andre was executed "in his royal regimentals, and buried in the same." Dr. Thacher was mistaken, and when he saw the letter of Mr. Buchanan, and the offensive imputation it contained, he investigated the subject anew, and addressed a letter to that gentleman, which was received by him, in a becoming spirit, and which entirely dissipated his former impressions. In that letter, Dr. Thacher stated, that he was within a few yards of Andre, at the time of his execution, and that he suffered in his regimentals. Supposing, as a matter of course, that Andre would be buried in them, Dr. Thacher had stated that, also, as a fact, though he did not remain, to witness the interment. He then refers to a letter, which he has discovered in the Continental Journal and Weekly Advertiser, of October 26, 1780, printed in Boston, by John Gill. This letter bears date, Tappan, October 2, the day of the execution, and details all the particulars, and in it are these words--"_He was dressed in full uniform; and, after the execution, his servant demanded the uniform, which he received. His body was buried near the gallows_." "This," says Dr. Thacher, "confirms the correctness of my assertion, that he suffered in his regimentals, but not that they were buried with the body. I had retired from the scene, before the body was placed in the coffin; but I have a perfect recollection of seeing him hand his hat to the weeping servant, while standing in the cart."

Mr. Buchanan observes, that an aged widow, who kept the toll-gate, on hearing the object stated, was so much gratified, that she suffered all carriages to pass free. "It marks strongly," he continues, "the sentiments of the American people at large, as to a transaction, which a great part of the British public have forgotten." This passage is susceptible of a twofold construction. It may mean, that this aged widow and the American people at large were unanimous, in lamenting the fate of Major Andre--that they most truly believed him to have been brave and unfortunate. It may also mean, that they considered the fate of Andre to have been unwarranted. Posterity has adjusted this matter very differently. Nearly sixty-eight years have passed. All excitement has long been buried, in a deeper grave than Andre's. A silent admission has gone forth, far and wide, of the perfect justice of Andre's execution. A board of general officers was appointed, to prepare a statement of his case. Greene, Steuben, and Lafayette were of that board. They were perfectly unanimous in their opinion. Prodigious efforts were made on his behalf. He himself addressed several letters to Washington, and one, the day before his death, in which he says: "Sympathy towards a soldier will surely induce your excellency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man of honor." The board of officers, as Gordon states, were induced to gratify this wish, with the exception of Greene. He contended, that the laws of war required, that a spy should be hung; the adoption of any less rigorous mode of punishment would excite the belief, that palliatory circumstances existed in the case of Andre, and that the decision might thereby be brought into question. His arguments were sound, and they prevailed.

Major Andre received every attention, which his condition permitted. He wrote to Sir Henry Clinton, Sept. 29, 1780, three days before his execution--"I receive the greatest attention from his excellency, General Washington, and from every person, under whose charge I happen to be placed." Captain Hale, like Major Andre, was young, brave, amiable, and accomplished. He entered upon the same perilous service, that conducted Andre to his melancholy fate. Hale was hanged, as a spy, at Long Island. Thank God, the brutal treatment he received was not retaliated upon Andre. "The provost martial," says Mr. Sparks, "was a refugee, to whose charge he was consigned, and treated him, in the most unfeeling manner, refusing the attendance of a clergyman, and the use of a bible; and destroying the letters he had written, to his mother and friends."

The execution of Major Andre was in perfect conformity with the laws of war. Had Sir Henry Clinton considered his fate unwarranted, under any just construction of those laws, he would undoubtedly have expressed that opinion, in the general orders, to the British army, announcing Major Andre's death. These orders, bearing date Oct. 8, 1780, refer only to his _unfortunate fate_. They contain not the slightest allusion to any supposed injustice, or unaccustomed severity, in the execution, or the manner of it.

The fate of Andre might have been averted, in two ways--by a steady resistance of Arnold's senseless importunity, to bring him within the American lines--and by a frank and immediate presentation of Arnold's pass, when stopped by Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart. His loss of self-possession, at that critical moment, is remarkable, for, as Americans, they would, in all human probability, have suffered him to pass, without further examination; and, had they been of the opposite party, they would certainly have conducted him to some British post--the very haven where he would be.

No. XX.

How shall _we_ deal with the dead? We have considered the usages of many nations, in different ages of the world. Some of these usages appear sufficiently revolting; especially such as relate to secondary burial, or the transfer of the dead, from their primary resting-places, to vast, miscellaneous receptacles. The desire is almost universal, that, when summoned to lie down in the grave, the dead may never be disturbed, by the hand of man--that our remains may return quietly to dust--unobserved by mortal eye. There is no part of this humiliating process, that is not painful and revolting to the beholder. Of this the ancients had the same impression. Cremation and embalming set corruption and the worm at defiance. Other motives, I am aware, have been assigned for the former. The execution of popular vengeance upon the poor remains of those, whose memory has become odious, during a revolution, is not uncommon. A ludicrous example of this occurred, when Santa Anna became unpopular, and the furious mob seized his leg, which had been amputated, embalmed, and deposited among the public treasures, and cooled their savage anger, by kicking the miserable member all over the city of Montezuma.

In the time of Sylla, cremation was not so common as interment; but Sylla, remembering the indignity he had offered to the body of Marius, enjoined, that his own body should be burnt. There was, doubtless, another motive for this practice among the ancients. The custom prevailed extensively, at one time, of burying the dead, in the cellars of houses. I have already referred to the Theban law, which required the construction of a suitable receptacle for the dead, in every house. Interment certainly preceded cremation. Cicero De Legibus, lib. 2, asserts, that interment prevailed among the Athenians, in the time of Cecrops, their first king. In the earlier days of Rome, both were employed. Numa was _buried_ in conformity with a special clause in his will. Remus, as Ovid, Fast. iv. 356, asserts, was _burnt_. The accumulation of dead bodies in cellars, or subcellars, must have become intolerable. This practice undoubtedly gave rise to the whole system of household gods, Lares, Lemures, Larvae, and Manes. Such an accumulation of ancestors, it may well be supposed, left precious little room for the amphorae of Chian, Lesbian, and Falernian.

Young aspirants sometimes inwardly opine, that their living ancestors take up too much room. Such was very naturally the opinion of the ancients, in relation to the dead. Like Francois Pontraci, they began to feel the necessity of condensation; and cremation came to be more commonly adopted. The bones of a human being, reduced to ashes, require but little room; and not much more, though the decomposition by fire be not quite perfect. Let me say to those, who think I prefer cremation, as a substitute for interment, that I do not. It has found little favor for many centuries. It seems to have been employed, in the case of Shelley, the poet. However desirable, when the remains of the dead were to be deposited in the dwelling-houses of the living, cremation and urn burial are quite unnecessary, wherever there is no want of ground for cemeteries, in proper locations. The funereal urns of the ancients were of different sizes and forms, and of materials, more or less costly, according to the ability and taste of the surviving friends. Ammianus Marcellinus relates, that Gumbrates, king of Chionia, near Persia, burnt the body of his son, and placed the ashes in a _silver_ urn.

Mr. Wedgewood had the celebrated Portland vase in his possession, for a year, and made casts of it. This was the vase, which had been in possession of the Barberini family, for nearly two centuries, and for which the Duke of Portland gave Mr. Hamilton one thousand guineas. In the minds of very many, the idea of considerable size has been associated with this vase. Yet, in fact, it is about ten inches high, and six broad. The Wedgewood casts may be seen, in many of our glass and china shops. This vase was discovered, about the middle of the sixteenth century, two and a half miles from Rome, on the Frescati road, in a marble sarcophagus, within a sepulchral chamber. This, doubtless, was a funereal urn. The urns, dug up, in Old Walsingham, in 1658, were quite similar, in form, to the Portland vase, excepting that they were without ears. Some fifty were found in a sandy soil, about three feet deep, a short distance from an old Roman garrison, and only five miles from Brancaster, the ancient Branodunum. Four of these vases are figured, in Browne's Hydriotaphia; some of them contained about two pounds of bones; several were of the capacity of a gallon, and some of half that size. It may seem surprising, that a human body can be reduced to such a compass. "How the bulk of a man should sink into so few pounds of bones and ashes may seem strange unto any, who consider not its constitution, and how slender a mass will remain upon an open and urging fire, of the carnal composition. Even bones themselves, reduced into ashes, do abate a notable proportion." Such are the words of good old Sir Thomas.

It was an adage of old, "He that lies in a golden urn, will find no quiet for his bones." If the costliness of the material offered no temptation to the avarice of man, still, after centuries have given them the stamp of antiquity, these urns and their contents become precious, in the eyes of the lovers of _vertu_. There is no security from impertinent meddling with our remains, so certain, as a speedy conversion into undistinguishable dust. Sir Thomas Browne manifestly inclined to cremation. "To be gnawed," says he, "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." Such anticipations are certainly unpleasant. An ingenious device was adopted by Alaricus--he appointed the spot for his grave, and directed, that the course of a river should be so changed, as to flow over it.

It has been said, that certain soils possess a preserving quality. I am inclined to think the secret commonly lies, in some peculiar, constitutional quality, in the dead subject; for, wherever cases of remarkable preservation have occurred, corruption has been found generally to have done its full day's work, on all around. If such quality really exist in the soil, it is certainly undesirable. Those who were opposed to the evacuation of the Cemetery des Innocens, in the sixteenth century, attempted to set up in its favor the improbable pretension, that it consumed bodies in nine days. Burton, in his description of Leicestershire, states, that the body of Thomas, Marquis of Dorset, "was found perfect, and nothing corrupted, the flesh not hardened, but in color, proportion and softness, like an ordinary corpse, newly to be interred," after seventy-eight years' burial.

A remarkable case of posthumous preservation occurred, in a village near Boston. The very exalted character of the professional gentleman, who examined the corpse, after it had been entombed, for forty years, gives the interest of authenticity to the statement. Justice Fuller, the father-in-law of that political victim, General William Hull, _who was neither a coward nor a traitor_, was buried in a family tomb, in Newton Centre. It was ascertained, and, from time to time, reported, that the body remained uncorrupted and entire. Mr. Fuller was about 80, when he died, and very corpulent. About forty years after his burial, Dr. John C. Warren, by permission of the family, with the physician of the village, and other gentlemen, examined the body of Mr. Fuller. The coffin was somewhat decomposed. So were the burial clothes. The body presented, everywhere, a natural skin, excepting on one leg, on which there had been an ulcer. There decomposition had taken place. The skin was generally of a dark brown color, and hard like dried leather; and so well preserved, about the face, that persons, present with Dr. Warren, said they should have recognized the features of Justice Fuller. My business lies not with the physiology, however curious the speculation may be. Were it possible, by any means, to perpetuate the dead, in a similar manner, it would be wholly undesirable. Dust we are, and unto dust must we return. The question is still before us,--How shall _we_ deal with the dead?

No. XXI.

It is commonly supposed, that the burial of articles of value with the dead, is a practice confined to the Indian tribes, and the inhabitants of unenlightened regions; who fancied, that the defunct were gone upon some far journey, during which such accompaniments would be useful. Such is not the fact. Chilperic, the fourth king of France, came to the throne A. D. 456. In 1655 the tomb of Chilperic was accidentally discovered, in Tournay, "restoring unto the world," saith Sir Thomas Browne, vol. 3, p. 466, "much gold adorning his sword, two hundred rubies, many hundred imperial coins, three hundred golden bees, the bones and horse-shoes of his horse, interred with him, according to the barbarous magnificence of those days, in their sepulchral obsequies." Stow relates, in his survey of London, that, in many of the funeral urns, found in Spitalfields, there were, mingled with the relics, coins of Claudius, Vespasian, Commodus, and Antoninus, with lachrymatories, lamps, bottles of liquor, &c.

As an old sexton, I have a right to give my advice; and the public have a right to reject it. If I were the owner of a lot, in some well-governed cemetery, I would place around it a neat, substantial, iron fence, and paint it black. In the centre I would have a simple monument, of white marble, and of liberal dimensions; not pyramidal, but with four rectangular faces, to receive a goodly number of memoranda, not one of which should exceed a single line. I would have no other monument, slab, or tablet, to indicate particular graves. I would have a plan of this lot, and preserve it, as carefully, as I preserved my title papers. Probably I should keep a duplicate, in some safe place. When a body came to be buried, in that lot, I would indicate the precise location, on my plan, and engrave the name and the date of birth, and death, and nothing more, upon the monument. If the dryness and elevation of the soil allowed, I would dig the graves so deep, that the remains of three persons could repose in one grave, the uppermost, five or six feet below the surface. After the burial of the first, the grave would be filled up, and an even, sodded surface presented, as before, until re-opened. Thus, of course, those, who had been lovely and pleasant, in their lives, like Jonathan and Saul, would, in death, be not divided. This, so far from being objectionable, is a delightful idea, embalmed in the classical precedents of antiquity. It is a well-known fact, that urns of a very large size were, occasionally, in use, in Greece and Rome, for the reception and commingling of the ashes of whole families. The ashes of Achilles were mingled with those of his friend, Patroclus. The ashes of Domitian, the last, and almost the worst, of the twelve Caesars, were inurned, as Suetonius reports, ch. 17, with those of Julia.

With the Chinese, it is very common to bury a comb, a pair of scissors to pare the nails, and four little purses, containing the nail parings of the defunct. Jewels and coins of gold are sometimes inserted in the mouths of the wealthy. This resembles the practice of the Greeks and Romans, of placing an obolus, Charon's fee, in the mouth of the deceased. This arrangement, in regard to the nail parings, seems well enough, as they are clearly part and parcel, of the defunct. Rings, coins, and costly chalices have been found, with the ashes of the dead.

Avarice, curiosity, and revenge, personal or political, have prompted mankind, in every age, to desecrate the receptacles of the dead. The latter motive has operated more fiercely, upon the people of France, than upon almost any other. No nation has ever surpassed them, in that intense ardor, nor in the parade and magnificence, with which they _canonize_--no people upon earth can rival the bitterness and fury, with which they _curse_. Lamartine, in his history of the Girondists, states, that "dragoons of the Republic spread themselves over the public places, brandishing their swords, and singing national airs. Thence they went to the church of Val de Grace, where, enclosed in silver urns, were the hearts of several kings and queens of France. These funeral vases they broke, trampling under foot those relics of royalty, and then flung them into the common sewer." And how shall _we_ deal with the dead?

With a reasonable economy of space, a lot of the common area, at Mount Auburn, or Forest Hills, will suffice, for the occasion of a family of ordinary size, for several generations. In re-opening one of these graves, for a second or third interment, the operative should never approach nearer than one foot to the coffin beneath. The careless manner, in which bones are sometimes spaded up, by grave-diggers, results from their want of precise knowledge of previous inhumations. Common sense indicates the propriety of keeping a regular, topographical account of every interment.

But it is quite time to bring these lucubrations to a close. To some they may have proved interesting, and, doubtless, wearisome to others. The account is therefore balanced. Most heartily do I wish for every one of my readers a decent funeral, and a peaceful grave. I have tolled my last knell, turned down my last sod, and am no longer a Sexton of the Old School.

No. XXII.

Some commendatory passages, in your own and other journals, my dear Mr. Transcript, seem very much to me like a theatrical _encore_--they half persuade me to reappear. There are other considerations, which I cannot resist. Twenty devils, saith the Spanish proverb, employ that man, who employeth not himself. I am quite sensible of my error, in quitting an old vocation prematurely. You have no conception of the severe depression of spirits, produced in the mind of an old sexton, who, in an evil hour, has cast his spade aside, and set up for a man of leisure. It may answer for a short time--a very short time. I can honestly declare, that I have led a wearisome life, since I gave up undertaking. Many have been the expedients I have adopted, to relieve the oppressive tedium of my miserable days. The funeral bell has aroused me, as the trumpet rouses an old war horse. How many processions I have followed, as an amateur! One or two young men of the craft have been exceedingly kind to me, and have given me notice, whenever they have been employed upon a new grave, and have permitted me to amuse myself, by performing a portion of the work.

My own condition, since I left off business, and tried the terrible experiment of living on my income, and doing nothing, has frequently and forcibly reminded me of a similar passage, in the history of my excellent old friend, Simon Allwick, the tallow-chandler, with whom I had the happiness of living, in the closest intimacy, and whom I had the pleasure of burying, about twenty years ago.

Mr. Allwick was a thrifty man; and, having acquired a handsome property, his ambitious partner persuaded him to abandon his greasy occupation, and set up for a gentleman. This was by no means, the work of a day. Mr. Allwick loved his wife--she was an affectionate creature; and, next to the small matter of having her own way in everything, she certainly loved Allwick, as her prime minister, in bringing that matter about. She was what is commonly called a devoted wife. Man is, marvellously, the creature of habit. So completely had Allwick become that creature, that, when his partner, upon the occasion of an excursion, as far as Jamaica Pond, for which Allwick literally tore himself away from the chandlery, could not restrain her admiration of that pretty, pet lake, he candidly confessed, that he felt nothing of the sort. And, when Mrs. Allwick exclaimed, with uplifted hands and tears in her eyes, that, in a cottage, on the borders of such a lake, she should be the happiest of the happy--"So should I, my dear," said her husband, with a sigh, so heavily drawn, that it seemed four to the pound--"so should I, my dear, if the lake were a vat of clear melted tallow, and I had a plenty of sticks and wicks."

Suffice it to say, Mrs. Allwick had set her heart upon the measure. She had a confidential friend or two, to whom she had communicated the _projet_: her pride had therefore become enlisted; for she had given them to understand, that she meant to have her own way. She commenced an uncompromising crusade, against grease, in every form. She complained, that grease spots were upon everything. She engaged the services of a young physician, who gave it, as his deliberate opinion, that Mr. Allwick's headaches arose from the deleterious influence of the fumes of hot grease, acting through the olfactory nerves, upon the pineal gland.

He even expressed a fear, that insanity might supervene, and he furnished an account of an eminent tallow-chandler in London, who went raving mad, and leaping into his own vat of boiling grease, was drawn out, no better than a great candle. It was a perfect _coup de grace_, when Mrs. Allwick drove candles from her dwelling, and substituted oil. The chandlery adjoined their residence, in Scrap Court; and it must be admitted, that, with the wind at south, the odor was not particularly savory. Mrs. Allwick was what the world would style a smart woman, and she was in the habit of calling her husband a very _wicked_ man and their mansion the most unclassical villa, though in the very midst of _grease_!

It is quite superfluous to say, the point was finally carried--the chandlery was sold--a country house was purchased, not on the lake, but in a sweet spot. There was some little embarrassment about the name, but two wild gooseberry bushes having been discovered, within half a mile, it was resolved, in council, to call it Mount Gooseberry. Since the going forth of Adam from Eden, in misery and shame, never was there such an exodus, as that of poor Allwick from the chandlery. I have not time to describe it. I am glad I have not. It was too much. Even Mrs. Allwick began to doubt the perfect wisdom of her plan. But the die was cast. On they went to their El Dorado. It was a pleasant spot. It was "a bonnie day in June." The birds were in ecstacies--so was Mrs. Allwick--so were the children--the sun shone--the stream ran beautifully by--the leaves still glistened in the morning dew--there was a sprinkling of lambs on the hills--old Cato was at the door, to welcome them, and Carlo most affectionately covered the white frocks of the children with mud. "Was there ever anything like this?" exclaimed the delighted wife. "Isn't it a perfect pink, papa?" cried the children. In answer to all this, the _jecur ulcerosum_ of poor Allwick sent forth a deep groan, that shook the very walls of his tabernacle.

The mind of man is a mill, and will grind chaff if nothing more substantial be supplied; and, peradventure, the upper will grind the nether millstone to destruction. For a brief space, Mr. Allwick found employment. Fences were to be completed--trees and bushes were to be set out--the furniture was to be arranged--but all this was soon over, and there was my good old friend, Simon Allwick, the busiest man alive, with nothing to do! Never was there a heart, in the bosom of a tallow-chandler, so perfectly "untravelled." Poor fellow, he went "up stairs and down stairs, and in my lady's chamber," but all to no other purpose, than to confirm him, in a sentiment of profound respect, for that homely proverb, _it is hard for an old dog to learn new tricks_.

"Where is your father?" said Mrs. Allwick to the children, after breakfast, one awful hot morning, near the end of June. The children went in pursuit--there he was--he had sought to occupy his thoughts, by watching the gambols of some half a dozen Byfield cokies--there he was--he had rested his arms upon the rail of the fence, and had been looking into the sty--his chin had dropped upon his hands--he had fallen asleep! He was mortified and nettled, at being found thus, and continued in a moody condition, through the day. On the following morning, he went to the city, and remained till night. His spirits were greatly improved, on his return; and to some felicitations from his wife and family, he replied--"My dear, I feel better, certainly; and I have made an arrangement, which, I think, will enable me to get along pretty comfortably--I have seen Mr. Smith, to whom I sold the chandlery, and have extended the term of payment. He still dips on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and has agreed to set a kettle of fat and some sticks for me, in the little closet, near the back door, that I may slip in, and amuse myself, on dipping days."

I ought to have been warned, by this example; but I had quite forgotten it. It is very agreeable to be thus welcomed back to the performance of my former duties. No one, but he, who is deprived of some long-cherished occupation, can truly comprehend the pleasure of occasionally handling a corpse.

No. XXIII.

Few things can be imagined, more thoroughly revolting and absurd, than the vengeance of the living, rioting among the ashes of the dead--rudely rolling the stone away from the door of the sepulchre--entering the narrow houses of the unresisting, _vi et armis_, with the pickaxe and the crowbar--and scattering to the winds the poor senseless remains of those, who were consigned to their resting-places, with all the honors of a former age. This, were it not awful, would be eminently ridiculous. For the execution of such posthumous revenge the French nation has the precedence of every other, civilized and savage. Frenchmen, if not, through all time, from the days of Pharamond to the present, remarkably zealous of good works, are clearly a peculiar people.

The history of the world furnishes no parallel to that preposterous crusade, carried on by that people, in 1794, against the dead bodies of kings and princes, saints and martyrs. This war, upon dead men's bones, was not projected and executed, by the rabble, on the impulse of the moment. A formal, deliberate decree of the Convention commanded, that the tombs should be destroyed, and they were destroyed, and their contents scattered to the winds, accordingly. Talk not of all that is furious and fantastical, in the conduct of monkeys and maniacs--a nation of chimpanzees would have acted with more dignity and discretion. A colony of grinning baboons, as Shakspeare calls them, bent upon liberty, equality, and fraternity, might have dethroned some tyrannical ourang outang, who had carried matters with too high a hand, and extorted too many cocoa nuts, for the support of his civil list; but, after having cut off his head, it is not to be believed, that they would have gone about, scratching up the ashes of his ancestors, and wreaking their vengeance upon those unoffending relics.

This miserable onslaught upon the dead began, immediately after December 20, 1794. The new worship commenced on that day, and the goddess of reason then, for the first time, presented herself to the people, in the person of the celebrated actress, Mademoiselle Maillard. St. Genevieve, the patroness of the city of Paris, died in 512, and her remains were subsequently transferred to the church, which bears her name, and which was erected, by Clovis, in 517. The executive agents of the National Convention commenced their legalized fooleries, upon the ashes of this poor old saint. These French gentlemen--the politest nation upon earth--without the slightest regard for decency, or sanctification, or common sense, dug up Madame Genevieve's coffin, and, to aggravate the indignity, dragged the old lady's remains to the place of public execution, the _Place de Greve_; and, having burnt them there, scattered the ashes to the winds. The gates of bronze, presented by Charlemagne to the church of St. Denis, were broken to pieces. Pepin, the sire of Charlemagne and son of Charles Martel, was buried there, in 768. Nothing remained of Pepin but a handful of dust, which was served in a similar manner. It is stated by Lamartine, that the heads of Marshal Turenne, Duguesclin, Louis XII., and Francis I., were rolled about the pavement; sceptres, crowns, and crosiers were trampled under foot; and the shouts of the operatives were heard, when the blows of the axe broke through some regal coffin, and the royal bones were thrown out, to be treated with senseless insult.

Hugh Capet, Philip the bold, and Philip, the handsome, were buried beneath the choir. The ruthless hands of these modern vandals tore from the corpses those garments of the grave, in which they had reposed for centuries, and threw the relics upon beds of quicklime.

Henry IV. fell by the hands of Ravaillac, the assassin, May 14, 1610. His body, was carefully embalmed, by Italians. When taken from the coffin, the lineaments of the face fully corresponded with the numerous representations, transmitted by the hands of painters and statuaries. That cherished and perfumed beard expanded, as if it had just then received the last manipulation of the friseur. The marks were perfectly visible, upon the breast, indicating the first and second thrust of Ravaillac's stilletto. The popularity of this monarch protected his remains, though for a brief space. He was frank, brave, and humane. For two days, all that remained of this idol of the people--was exhibited to public view.

The exhumed king was placed at the foot of the altar, and a countless multitude passed, in mute procession, around these favored relics. This gave umbrage to Javogues, a member of the Convention. He denounced this partiality, and railed against the memory of Henri le Grand. The multitude, impressible by the slightest impulse, hurled the dead monarch into the common fosse of quicklime and corruption; execrating, under the influence of a few feverish words, from the lips of a republican savage, the memory and the remains of one, cherished by their predecessors, for nearly three hundred years. A similar fate awaited his son and grandson, Louis XIII. and XIV. The vault of the Bourbons was thoroughly ransacked, in the same spirit of desolation. Queens, dauphinesses, and princesses, says the historian of the Girondists, were carried away, in armsful, by the laborers, to be cast into the trench, and consumed by quicklime. In the vault of Charles V., surnamed the wise, besides the corpse were found, a hand of justice and a golden crown. In the coffin of his wife, Jeanne of Bourbon, were her spindles and marriage rings. These relics were thrown into the ditch--the corpses--not the articles of gold, however debased by their juxtaposition. Of the French gentlemen it may be affirmed, as of Madame Gilpin--

"Though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind."

An economy, perfectly grotesque, mingled with an unmanly desecration. Even the lead was scraped together from these coffins, and converted into balls. In the vault of the Valois no bodies were discovered. The people were very desirous of showing some tokens of their wrath, upon the poor carcass of Louis XI., but it could not be found. Abbes, heroes, ministers of state were indiscriminately cast into the fosse. Upon the exhumation of Dagobert I., and his queen, Matilde, who had been buried twelve hundred years, her skeleton was found without a head. Such is said to have been the case with several other skeletons of the queens of France.