The conversion of Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt has given rise to as much learned discussion, as the question, so zealously agitated, between Barcephas and others, whether the forbidden fruit were anappleor afig.But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.Gen. xix. 26. Very little account seems to have been made of this matter, at the time. The whole story, and without note or comment, is told in these fifteen words. It would have seemed friendly, and natural, and proper, for Abraham to have said a few words of comfort to Lot, on this sudden and singular bereavement; but, instead of this, we are told, in the following verse, that Abraham got up, next morning, and looked, very philosophically, at the smoke, which went up from the cities of the plain, like the smoke of a furnace. This neglect of Lot’s wife is, too frequently, a wife’s lot. Some of the learned have been sorely perplexed, to understand, why this unfortunate lady has not long since melted away, under the influence of the rains; for a considerable quantity of water has fallen, since the destruction of Sodom. But they seem to forget, that there is no measure of limitation, for a miracle; and that the salt might have been purposely designed, likecaoutchouc, to resist the action of water. The departure from Sodom was sudden, to be sure; but the lady was clothed, in some sort, doubtless; yet nothing has been said, by travellers, about her drapery, and whether that also was converted into salt, or cast off, by the mere energy of the miracle, is unknown.
This pillar of salt Josephus says he has seen; and, though he does not name the time, it is of little consequence, as, in such a matter, we can well afford to throw in a century or two; but it must have been between A. D. 37, and a point, not long after the 13th year of Domitian. Such being the term of the existence of Josephus, as nearly as can be ascertained. The cities of the plain were destroyed, according to Calmet’s reckoning, 1893 years before Christ; therefore,the pillar, which Josephus saw, must have then been standing more than nineteen centuries. These are the words of Josephus: “But Lot’s wife, continually turning back, to view the city, as she went from it, and being too nicely inquisitive what would becomeof it, although God had forbidden her so to do, was changed into a pillar of salt, for I have seen it, and it remains at this day.” Antiq., vol. i. p. 32, Whiston’s translation, Lond. 1825. The editor, in a note states, that Clement of Rome, a cotemporary of Josephus, also saw it, and that Irenæus saw it, in the next century. Mr. Whiston prudently declines being responsible for the statements of modern travellers, who say they have seen it. And what did they see?—a pillar of salt. This is quite probable. Volney remarks, “At intervals we met with misshapen blocks, which prejudiced eyes mistake for mutilated statues, and which pass, with ignorant and superstitious pilgrims, for monuments of the adventure of Lot’s wife; though it is nowhere said that she was metamorphosed into stone, like Niobe, but into salt, which must have melted the ensuing winter.” Volney forgets, that the salt itself was miraculous, and, doubtless, water proof.
Mr. Stephens, in his Incidents of Travel, though he gives a description of the Dead Sea, in whose waters he bathed, says not a syllable of Lot’s wife, or the pillar of salt.
Some of the learned have opined, that Lot’s wife, like Pliny, during the eruption of Vesuvius, was overwhelmed, by the burning and flying masses of sulphur and bitumen; this is suggested, under the article, Lot’s Wife, in Calmet. “Some travellers in Palestine,” says he, “relate that Lot’s wife was shown to them, i. e. the rock, into which she was metamorphosed. But what renders their testimony very suspicious is, that they do not agree, about the place, where it stands; some saying westward, others eastward, some northward, others southward of the Dead Sea; others in the midst of the waters; others in Zoar; others at a great distance from the city.” In 1582, Prince Nicholas Radziville took a vast deal of pains to discover this remarkable pillar of salt, but all his inquiries were fruitless. Dr. Adam Clarke suggests, that Lot’s wife, by lingering in the plain, may have been struck dead with lightning, and enveloped in the bituminous and sulphureous matter, that descended. He refers to a number of stories, that have been told, and among them, that this pillar possessed a miraculous, reproductive energy, whereby the fingers and toes of the unfortunate lady were regenerated, instanter, as fast as they were broken off, by the hands of pilgrims. Irenæus, one of the fathers, asserts, that this pillar of salt wasactually alive in histime! Some of those fathers, I am grieved to say it, were insufferable story-tellers. This tale is also told, by the author of a poem,De Sodoma, appended to the life of Tertullian. Some learned men understand the Hebrew to mean simply, that “she became fixed in the salsuginous soil”—anglice,stuck in the mud. If this be the real meaning of the passage, it must have been some other lady, that was seen by Josephus, Clement, Irenæus, and Lieut. Lynch.
Sir Thomas Browne, credulous though he was, had, probably, no great confidence in theliteralconstruction of the passage in Genesis. In vol. iii. page 327, of his works, London, 1835, he says—“We will not question the metamorphosis of Lot’s wife, or whether she were transformed into a real statue of salt; though some conceive that expression metaphorical, and no more thereby than a lasting and durable column, according to the nature of salt, which admitteth no corruption.” This is evidently the opinion of Dr. Adam Clarke. In other words, God, by her destruction, while her husband and daughters were saved, made her apillar or lasting memorialto the disobedient. In this sense a pillar ofsaltmeans neither more nor less than aneverlasting memorial. Salt is the symbol of perpetuity; thus Numbers xviii. 19.It is a covenant of salt forever: and 2 Chron. xvii. 5, the kingdom is given to David and his sons forever,by a covenant of salt. If this be the true construction, those four gentlemen, to whom I have referred, have been entirely misled, in supposing that any one of those masses of salt, which Volney says may be mistaken, for the remains of mutilated statues, has ever, at any period of the world, been the object of Lot’s devotion, or the partner of his joys and sorrows.
In vol. ii. page 212, of his Incidents of Travel, New York, 1848, Mr. Stephens, referring to an account, received by him, respecting what he supposed to be an island in the Dead Sea, writes thus—“It comes from one who ought to know, from the only man, who ever made the tour of that sea, and lived to tell of it.” If Mr. Stephens will look at Chateaubriand’s Travels, and his fine description of the Dead Sea, he will find there the following passage: “No person has yet made the tour of it but Daniel, abbot of St. Saba. Nau has preserved in his travels the narrative of that recluse. From his account we learn,” &c.
“The celebrated lake,” says Chateaubriand, “whichoccupies the site of Sodom, is called in Scripture the Dead or Salt Sea.” Not so: it is no where called the Dead Sea, in the sacred writings. By the Turks, it is called Ula Deguisi, and by the Arabs, Bahar Loth and Almotanah.
It is quite desirable for travellers to be well apprized of all, that is previously known, in regard to the field of their peregrination. Goldsmith once projected a plan of visiting the East, for the purpose of bringing to England such inventions and models, as might be useful. Johnson laughed at the idea, and denounced Goldsmith, as entirely incompetent, from his ignorance of what already existed—“he will bring home a wheelbarrow,” said Johnson, “and think he had made a great addition to our stock.” Mr. Stephens has preserved a respectable silence, on the subject of Lot’s wife.
The island, which is above referred to, turned out, like Sancho’s in Barrataria, to be an optical illusion. The Maltese sailor, who said he had rowed about the lake with his employer, a Mr. Costigan, who died on its shores, was disposed, after fingering his fee, to enlarge and improve his former narrative. Mr. Stephens does not give the date of Costigan’s visit to the Dead Sea. He, however, furnishes a linear map of its form. This also is drawn by the Maltese sailor, from memory. All that can be said of it is, that it corresponds with other plans, in one particular,—the Jordan enters the sea, at its northern extremity. Probably, no very accurate plan is to be found, such have been the impediments in the way of any deliberate examination—unless Lieutenant Lynch has succeeded in the work. The figure of the Dead Sea, in the Atlas of Lucas, has no resemblance to the figure, in the late Bible Atlas by Dr. Jenks.
Dr. Johnson said, if an atheist came into his house, he would lock up his spoons. I have always distrusted a sexton, who did not cherish a sentiment of profound and cordial affection, for his bell. It did my heart good, when a boy, to mark the proud satisfaction, with which Lutton, the sexton of the Old Brick, used to ring for fire. I have no confidence in a fellow,who can toll his bell, for a funeral, and listen to its deep, and solemn vibrations, without a gentle subduing of the spirit. I never had a great affection for Clafflin, the sexton of Berry Street Church; but I always respected the deep feeling of indignation he manifested, if anybody meddled with his bellrope.
Bells were treated more honorably in the olden time, and ringing was an art—an accomplishment—then. Holden tells us some fine stories of the societies of ringers. In his youth, Sir Matthew Hale was a member of one of those societies. In 1687, Nell Gwinne—and it may be lawful to take the devil’s water, as Dr. Worcester said, to turn the Lord’s mill—Nell Gwinne left the ringers of the church bells of St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, where there is a peal of twelve, a sum of money, for a weekly entertainment. I never shall get the chime of the North Church bells out of my ears—I hope I never shall—more than half an hundred years ago, my mother used to open the window, of a Christmas eve, that we might hear their music!
In the olden time, bells were baptized—rantizedI presume—and woreposieson their collars. They were first cast in England, in the reign of Edmund I., and the first tunable set, or peal, for Croyland Abbey, was cast A. D. 960. Weever tells us, in his Funeral Monuments, that, in 1501, the bells of the Priory of Little Dunmow, in Essex, were baptized, by the names of St. Michael, St. John, Virgin Mary, &c. As late as 1816, the great bell of Notre Dame, in Paris, was baptized, by the name of the Duke of Angouleme. Bells were supposed to be invested with extraordinary powers. They were employed, not only to call the congregation together, to give notice of conflagrations, civil commotions, and the approach of an enemy, and to ring forth the merry holiday peal—but to quell tempests, pacify the restless dead, and arrest the very lightning. Bells often bore inscriptions like these:
Laudo Deum verum, plebem voco, conjugo clerum,Defunctos ploro, pestem fugo, festa decoro.Funera plango; Fulgura frango; Sabbata pango;Excito lentos; Dissipo ventos; Paco cruentos.
Thepassing bellwas the bell, which announced to the people, according to Mabillon, that a spirit was taking its flight, orpassing away, and demanding their prayers. Bells were also used to frighten away evil spirits, that were supposed to be on the watch, for their customers. The learned Durandus affirms,that all sorts of devils have a terror of bells. This, of course, can only be true of bells, that have been received into the flock, that is, baptized. Such was the Popish belief, and that the very devil, himself, cared not a fig, for an unbaptized bell. De Worde, in his Golden Legend, sayeth “it is said the evill spirytes that ben in the regyon of the ayre doubte moche, when they here the belles rongen, and this is the cause why the belles ben rongen, whan it thondreth, and when grate tempests and outrages of wether happen, to the ende that the feinds and wycked spirytes should be abashed and flee, and cease of the movinge of tempests.”
Compared with the big bells of the earth—ours—the very largest—are cowbells, at best. The great bell of St. Paul’s weighs 8400 pounds—a small affair; Great Tom of Lincoln, 9894—Great Tom of Oxford, 17,000. This is precisely the weight of the bell of the Palazzo, at Florence;—St. Peter’s at Rome, 18,607—the great bell at Erfurth, 28,224—St. Joan’s bell, at Moscow, 127,836—the bell of the Kremlin, 443,772. The last is the marvel of travellers, and its metal, at a low estimate, is valued at £66,565. During the fusion of this bell, considerable quantities of gold and silver were cast in, the pious contribution of the people. This enormous mass has never been suspended.
There was a bell—parvis componere magna—a very little bell indeed—very—a perfecttintinabulum. It made a most ridiculous noise. An account of this bell may be found, in a pamphlet, entitled Historical Notices, &c., of the New North Religious Society, in the town of Boston, 1822. It weighed, says the writer, “between three and four hundred.” Twelve or thirteen hundred such bells, therefore, would just about counterpoise the bell of the Kremlin. “Its tone,” says the writer, “was unpleasant.” The preposterous clatter of this bell was, nevertheless, the gathering cry of the worshippers, at the New North Church, for the term of eighty-three years, from 1719 to 1802, when it was purchased by the town of Charlton, in the county of Worcester; probably to frighten theevyll spirytes, in the shape of wolves and foxes, abounding there, that would be likely todoubte moche, when this bell wasben rongen. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth is a proverb—not to criticise the tone of a gift bell may be another. This bell, which a stout South Down wether might almost have carried off, was the giftofMr. John Frizzell, a merchant of Boston, to the New North Church,on the island of North Boston, as all that portion of the town was then called, lying North of Mill Creek. On the principle which gave the title of Bell the Cat to the famous Archibald, Frizzell should have borne the name of Bell the Church. Let it pass: Frizzell and his little bell are both translated. The tongue of the former is still; that of the latter still waggeth, I believe, in the town of Charlton.
The authenticity of the statements in the pamphlet to which I have referred, admits not of a doubt. The name of its highly respectable author, though not upon the title-page, appears in the certificate of copyright; and, in the range of my limited reading, I have met with nothing, more curious and grotesque, than his account of the installation of the Rev. Peter Thacher, over the New North Church, Jan. 27, 1720. Upon no less respectable evidence, would I have believed, that our amiable ancestors could have acted so much likeevil spirytes, upon such an occasion. I have not elbow room for the farce entire—one or two touches must suffice. After agreeing upon a mode of choosing a colleague, for the Rev. Mr. Webb, and pitching upon Mr. Thacher, a quarrel arose, among the people. The council met, on the day of installation, at the house of the Rev. Mr. Webb, at the corner of North Bennet and Salem Streets. The aggrieved assembled, at the house of Thomas Lee, in Bennet Street, next to the Universal meeting-house. A knowledge of these points is necessary, for a correct understanding of the subsequent strategy. If the Council attempted to go to the New North Church, through the street, in the usual way, they must necessarily pass Lee’s house. The aggrieved waited on the Council, by a committee, requesting them not to proceed with the installation of Mr. Thacher; and assuring them, that, if they persisted, force would be used, to prevent their occupation of the church.
Instead, therefore, of proceeding through the street, the Rev. Mr. Webb led the Council, by his back gate, through Love Lane, and a little alley, leading to the meeting-house, and thus got possession of the pulpit. Thus, by a knowledge of by-ways, so important in thepetite guerre, the worthy clergyman outwitted the malcontents. A mob, to whom an installation, in such sort, was highly acceptable, had already gathered. The party at Lee’s house, being apprised of the ruse, and perceiving theywerein danger of the council, flew to the rescue. They rushed into the church; vociferously forbade the proceedings, and were “indecent,” says the writer, “almost beyond credibility.” “However incredible,” continues the narrator, “it is a fact, that some of the most unruly did sprinkle a liquor, which shall be nameless, from the galleries, upon the people below.” The wife of Josiah Langdon used to tell, with great asperity, of her being a sufferer by it. This good lady retained her resentment to old age—the filthy creatures entirely spoiled a new velvet hood, which she had made for the occasion, and she could not wear it again.
In the midst of this uproar, Mr. Thacher was installed. “The malcontents,” says the writer, “went off in a bad humor. They proceeded to the gathering of another church. In the plenitude of their zeal, they first thought of denominating it theRevengeChurch of Christ; but they thought better of it, and called it the New Brick Church. However, the first name was retained, for many years, among the common people. Their zeal was great, indeed, and descended to puerility. They placed the figure of a cock, as a vane, upon the steeple, out of derision of Mr. Thacher, whose Christian name was Peter. Taking advantage of a wind, which turned the head of the cock towards the New North Meeting-house, when it was placed upon the spindle, a merry fellow straddled over it, and crowed three times, to complete the ceremony.” The solemn, if not the sublime, and the ridiculous, seem, not unfrequently, to have met together at ordinations, in the olden time. “I could mention an ordination,” says the Rev. Leonard Woods, of Andover, in a letter, written and published, a few years since, “that took place about twenty years ago, at which I, myself, was ashamed and grieved, to see two aged ministers literally drunk; and a third indecently excited with strong drink. These disgusting and appalling facts I should wish might be concealed. But they were made public, by the guilty persons; and I have thought it just and proper to mention them, in order to show how much we owe to a compassionate God, for the great deliverance he has wrought.” Legitimate occasion for a Te Deum this, most certainly.
Thepræficæ, or mourning women, were not confined to Greece, Rome, and Judea. In 1810, Colonel Keatinge published the history of his travels. His account of Moorish funerals, is, probably, the best on record. The dead are dressed in their best attire. The ears, nostrils, and eyelids are filled with costly spices. Virgins are ornamented with bracelets, on their wrists and ankles. The body is enfolded in sanctified linen. If a male, a turban is placed at the head of the coffin; if a female, a large bouquet. Before a virgin is buried, theloo loo loois sung, by hired women, that she may have the benefit of the wedding song. “When a person,” says Mr. Keatinge, “is thought to be dying, he is immediately surrounded by his friends, who begin to scream, in the most hideous manner, to convince him that there is no more hope, and that he is already reckoned among the dead.”
Premature burial is said to be very common, among the Moors. For this, Mr. Keatinge accounts, in this manner: “As, according to their religion, they cannot think the departed happy, till they are under ground, they are washed instantly, while yet warm; and the greatest consolation the sick man’s friends can have, is to see him smile, while this operation is performing; not supposing such an appearance to be a convulsion, occasioned by washing and exposing the unfortunate person to the cold air, before life has taken its final departure.”
When a death occurs, the relations immediately set up thewooliah woo; or death scream. This cry is caught up, from house to house, and hundreds of women are instantly gathered to the spot. They come to scream and mourn with the bereaved. This species of condolence is very happily described by Colonel Keatinge, page 92. “They,” the howlers, “take her,” the mother, widow or daughter, “in their arms, lay her head on their shoulders, and scream without intermission for several minutes, till the afflicted object, stunned with the constant howling and a repetition of her misfortune, sinks senseless on the floor. They likewise hire a number of women, who make this horrid noise round the bier, over which they scratch their faces, to such a degree, that they appear to have been bled with a lancet. These women are hired at burials, weddings and feasts.Their voices are heard at the distance of half a mile. It is the custom of those, who can afford it, to give, on the evening of the day the corpse is buried, a quantity of hot-dressed victuals to the poor. This, they call “the supper of the grave.”
Dr. E. D. Clarke observes, in his Travels in Egypt, Lond., 1817, that he recognized, among the Egyptians, the same notes, and the repetition of the same syllables, in their funeral cries, that had become familiar to his ear, on like occasions, among the Russians and the Irish.
Dr. Martin, in his account of the Tonga Islands, in the South Pacific, compiled from Mariner’s papers, in his narrative of the funeral of a chief, states, that the women mourned over the corpse, through the whole night, sitting as near as possible, singing their dismal death song, and beating their breasts and faces.
The desire, to magnify one’s apostleship, is, doubtless, at the bottom of all extravagant demonstrations of sorrow, at funerals, in the form of screaming, howling, yelling, personal laceration, and disfigurement. In the highly interesting account of the missionary enterprise, upon which the Duff was employed, in 1796, it was stated, that, at the funeral of a chief of Tongataboo, the people of both sexes continued, during two days, to mangle and hack themselves, in a shocking manner;—some thrust spears, through their thighs, arms, and cheeks; others beat their heads, till the blood gushed forth in streams; one man, having oiled his hair, set it on fire, and ran about the area, with his head in a blaze. This was a burning shame, beyond all doubt. I never forget old Tasman’s bowl, when I think of this island. Tasman discovered Tongataboo, in 1643. At parting, he gave the chief a wooden bowl. Cook found this bowl, on the island, one hundred and thirty years afterwards. It had been used as a divining bowl, to ascertain the guilt or innocence of persons, charged with crimes. When the chief was absent, at some other of the Friendly Islands, the bowl was considered as his representative, and honored accordingly. Captain Cook presented the reigning chief with a pewter platter, and the bowl became immediatelyfunctus officio, the platter taking its place, for the purposes of divination.
In 1818, Captain Tuckey published the account of his expedition, to explore the Zaire, or Congo river. He describes a funeral, at Embomma, the chief mart, on that river. In returning to their vessel, after a visit to the chief, Chenoo, the partyobserved a hut, in which the corpse of a female was deposited, dressed as when alive. On the inside were four women howling lustily, to whom two men, outside, responded; the concert closely resembling the yell, at an Irish funeral. Captain Tuckey should not have spoken so thoughtlessly of thekeena, the funeral cry of the wild Irish, the most unearthly sound, that ever came from the agonized lungs of mortal. For the most perfect description of this peculiar scream, this inimitable hella-baloo, the reader may turn to Mrs. Hall’s incomparable account of an Irish funeral. In close connection with this incident, Captain Tuckey, p. 115, remarks, that, in passing through the burying ground, at Embomma, they saw two graves, recently prepared, of monstrous size, being not less than nine feet by five.
This he explains as follows:—“Simmons (a native, returned from England to his native country) requested a piece of cloth to envelop his aunt, who had been dead seven years, and was to be buried in two months. The manner of preserving corpses, for so long a time, is by enveloping them in the cloth of the country, or in European cotton. The wrappers are successively multiplied, as they can be procured by the relations of the deceased, or according to the rank of the person; in the case of a rich and very great man, the bulk being only limited, by the power of conveyance to the grave.” When the Spaniards entered the Province of Popayan, they found a similar practice there, with this difference, that the corpse was partially roasted, before it was enveloped. When a chief dies, among the Caribs of Guyana, his wives, the whole flock of them, watch the corpse for thirty days, to keep off the flies,—a task which becomes daily more burdensome, as the attraction becomes greater. At the expiration of thirty days, it is buried, and one of the ladies, probably the best beloved, with it.
Some of the Orinoco tribes were in the practice of tying a rope to the corpse, and sinking it in the river; in twenty-four hours, it was picked clean to the bones, by the fishes, and the skeleton became a very convenient and tidy memorial. This is decidedly preferable to the mode, adopted by the Parsees. Their sacred books enjoin them not to polluteearth,water, orfire, with their dead. They therefore feel authorized to pollute the air. They bury not; but place the corpses at a distance, and leave them to their fate. It was the opinion of Menu, that the bodywas a tenement, scarcely worth inhabiting; “a mansion,” says he, “with bones for beams and rafters,—nerves and tendons for cords; muscles and blood for mortar; skin for its outward covering; a mansion, infested by age and sorrow, the seat of many maladies, harassed with pains, haunted with darkness, and utterly incapable of standing long—such a mansion let the vital soul, its tenant, always quit cheerfully.”
This contempt for the tabernacle—the carcass—the outer man—strangely contrasts with that deep regard for it, evinced by the Egyptians, and such of the Jews, Greeks, and Romans, as were in the practice of embalming. When that extraordinary man, Sir Thomas Browne, exclaimed, in his Hydriotaphia, “who knows the fate of his bones or how oft he shall be buried? Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?” he, doubtless, was thinking of Egyptian mummies, transported to Europe, forming a part of the materia medica, and being actually swallowed as physic. A writer, in the London Quarterly, vol. 21, p. 363, states, that, when the old traveller, John Sanderson, returned to England, six hundred pounds of mummies were brought home, for the Turkey Company. I am aware, that it has been denied, by some, that the Egyptian mummies were broken up, and sent to Europe, for medicinal uses. By them it is asserted, that what the druggists have been supplied with is the flesh of executed criminals, or such others, as the Jews can obtain, filled with bitumen, aloes and other things, and baked, till the juices are exhaled, and the embalming matter has fitted the body for transportation. The Lord deliver us from such “doctors’ stuff” as this.
Non sumito, nisi vocatus: let no man presume to be an undertaker, unless he have avocation—unless he becalled. If these are not the words of Puddifant, to whom I shall presently refer, I have no other conjecture to offer. Though, when a boy, I had a sort of hankering after dead men’s bones, as I have already related, I never felt myself truly called to be a sexton, until June, 1799. It was in that month and year, that GovernorSumner was buried. The parade was very great, not only because he had been a Governor, but because he had been a very good man. All the sextons were on duty, but Lutton, as we called him—his real name was Lemuel Ludden. He was the sexton of the Old Brick, where my parents had worshipped, under dear parson Clarke, who died, the year before. He had the cleverest way, that man ever had, of winning little boys’ hearts—he really seemed to have the key to their little souls. Lutton was sick—he was not able to officiate, on that memorable day; and no recently appointed ensign ever felt such a privation more keenly, on the very day of battle. He was a whole-souled sexton, that Lutton. He, most obligingly, took me into the Old Brick Church, where Joy’s buildings now stand, to see the show. There was a half-crazy simpleton, whom it was difficult to prevent from capering before the corpse—a perfect Davie Gelatly. An awkward boy, whose name was Reuben Rankin, came from Salem, with a small cart-load of pies, which his mother had baked, and sent to Boston, hoping for a ready sale, upon the occasion of such an assemblage there. Like Grouchy, at Waterloo, he lost histète; followed the procession, through every street; and returned to Salem, with all his wares.
It was, while contemplating the high satisfaction, beaming forth, upon the features of the chief undertaker, that I first felt myvocation. I ventured, timidly, to ask old Lutton, if he thought I had talents for the office. He said, he thought I might succeed, clapped me on the shoulder, and gave me a smile of encouragement, which I never shall forget, till my poor old arm can wield a spade no more, and the sod, which I have so frequently turned upon others, shall be turned upon me.
Old Grossman said, in my hearing, the following morning, that it had been the proudest day of his life. It is very pardonable, for an undertaker, on such occasions, to imagine himself the observed of all observers. This fancy is, by no means, confined to undertakers. Chief mourners of both sexes are very liable to the same impression. An over-estimate of one’s own importance is pretty universal, especially in a republic. I never did go the length of believing the tale, related, by Peter, in his letter to his kinsfolk, who says he knew a Scotch weaver, who sat upon his stoop, and read the Edinburgh Review, till he actually thought he wrote it. I see nothing to smile at, in any man’s belief, that he is the object of public attention, on occasions ofparade and pageantry. It rather indicates the deep interest of the individual—a solemn sense of responsibility. At the late water celebration, I noticed many examples of this species of personal enthusiasm. The drivers of the Oak Hall and Sarsaparilla expresses were no mean illustrations; and when three cheers were given to the elephant, near the Museum, in Tremont Street, I was pleased to see several of the officials, and one, at least, of the water commissioners, touch their hats, and smile most graciously, in return.
Puddifant, to whom I have alluded, officiated as sexton, at the funeral of Charles I. What a broad field, for painful contemplation, lies here! It is a curious fact, that, while preparations were being made, for depositing the body of King Charles in St. George’s Chapel, at Windsor, a common foot soldier is supposed to have stolen a bone from the coffin of Henry VIII., for the purpose of making a knife-handle. This account is so curious, that I give it entire from Wood’s Athenæ Oxonienses, folio edit. vol. ii., p. 703. “Those gentlemen, therefore, Herbert and Mildmay, thinking fit to submit, and leave the choice of the place of burial to those great persons, (the Duke of Richmond, Marquis of Hertford, and Earl of Lindsey) they, in like manner, viewed the tomb house and the choir; and one of the Lords, beating gently upon the pavement with his staff, perceived a hollow sound; and, thereupon ordering the stones to be removed, they discovered a descent into a vault, where two coffins were laid, near one another, the one very large, of an antique form, and the other little. These they supposed to be the bodies of Henry VIII., and his third wife, Queen Jane Seymour, as indeed they were. The velvet palls, that covered their coffins, seemed fresh, though they had lain there, above one hundred years. The Lords agreeing, that the King’s body should be in the same vault interred, being about the middle of the choir, over against the eleventh stall, upon the sovereign’s side, they gave orders to have the King’s name, and year he died, cut in lead; which, whilst the workmen were about, the Lords went out, and gave Puddifant, the sexton, order to lock the chapel door, and not suffer any to stay therein, till further notice.”
“The sexton did his best to clear the chapel; nevertheless, Isaac, the sexton’s man, said that a foot soldier had hid himself so as he was not discovered; and, being greedy of prey, crept into the vault, and cut so much of the velvet pall, that coveredthe great body, as he judged would hardly be missed, and wimbled a hole through the said coffin that was largest, probably fancying that there was something well worth his adventure. The sexton, at his opening the door, espied the sacrilegious person; who, being searched, a bone was found about him, with which he said he would haft a knife. The girdle or circumscription of capital letters of lead put upon the King’s coffin had only these words—King Charles, 1648.” This statement perfectly agrees with Sir Henry Halford’s account of the examination, April 1, 1813, in presence of the Prince Regent.
Cromwell had a splendid funeral: good old John Evelyn saw it all, and describes it in his diary—the waxen effigy, lying in royal robes, upon a velvet bed of state, with crown, sceptre and globe—in less than two years suspended with a rope round the neck, from a window at Whitehall. Evelyn says, the “funeral was the joyfullest ever seen: none cried but the dogs, which the soldiers hooted away with a barbarous noise, drinking and taking tobacco in the streets as they went.” Some have said that Cromwell’s body was privately buried, by his own request, in the field of Naseby: others, that it was sunk in the Thames, to prevent insult. It was not so. When, upon the restoration, it was decided, to reverse the popular sentiment, Oliver’s body was sought, in the middle aisle of Henry VII’s chapel, and there it was found. A thin case of lead lay upon the breast, containing a copper plate, finely gilt, and thus inscribed—Oliverius, Protector reipublicæ Angliæ, Scotiæ, et Hiberniæ, natus 25 April, 1599—inauguratus 16 Decembris 1653—mortuus 3 Septembris ann—1658. Hic situs est. This plate, in 1773, was in possession of the Hon George Hobart of Nocton in Lincolnshire. By a vote of the House of Commons, Cromwell’s and Ireton’s bodies were taken up, Jan. 26, 1660—and, on the Monday night following, they were drawn, on two carts, to the Red Lion Inn, Holborn, where they remained all night; and, with Bradshaw’s, which was not exhumed, till the day after, conveyed, on sledges, to Tyburn, and hanged on the gallows, till sunset. They were then beheaded—the trunks were buried in a hole, near the gallows, and their heads set on poles, on the top of Westminster Hall, where Cromwell’s long remained.
The treatment of Oliver’s character has been in perfect keeping, with the treatment of his carcass. The extremes of censure and of praise have been showered upon his name. He has beencanonized, and cursed. The most judicious writers have expressed their views of his character, in well-balanced phrases. Cardinal Mazarin styled hima fortunate mad-man; and, by Father Orleans, he was called ajudicious villain. The opinion of impartial men will probably vary very little from that of Clarendon, through all time: he says of Cromwell—“he was one of those men,quos vituperare ne inimici quidem possunt, nisi ut simul laudent;” and again, vol. vii. 301, Oxford ed. 1826: “In a word, as he was guilty of many crimes, against which damnation is denounced, and for which hell-fire is prepared, so he had some good qualities, which have caused the memory of some men, in all ages, to be celebrated; and he will be looked upon by posterity asa brave wicked man.” Oliver had the nerve to do what most men could not: he went to look upon the corpse of the beheaded king—opened the coffin with his own hand—and put his finger to the neck, where it had been severed.He could not then doubt that Charles was dead.
At the same time, when the authorized absurdities were perpetrated upon Oliver’s body, every effort was ineffectually made to discover that of King Charles, for the purpose of paying to it the highest honors. This occurred at the time of the restoration, or about ten years after the death of Charles I. In 1813, i. e. one hundred and sixty-five years after that event, the body was accidentally discovered. To this fact, and to the examination by Sir Henry Halford, President of the Royal College of Physicians, I shall refer in my next.
The passage, quoted in my last, from the Athenæ Oxonienses, shows plainly, that Charles I. was buried in 1648, in the same vault with the bodies of Henry VIII. and Jane Seymour; and this statement is perfectly sustained, by the remarkable discovery in 1813, which proves Lord Clarendon to have been mistaken in his account, Hist. Reb., Oxford ed., vol. vi. p. 243. The Duke of Richmond, the Marquis of Hertford, and the Earls of Southampton and Lindsey, who had been of the bed chamber, and had obtained leave, to perform the last duty to the decollatedking, went into the church, at Windsor, to seek a place for the interment, and were greatly perplexed, by the mutilations and changes there—“At last,” says Clarendon, “there was a fellow of the town, who undertook to tell them the place, where he said there was a vault, in which King Harry, the Eighth, and Queen Jane Seymour were interred. As near that place, as could conveniently be, they caused the grave to be made. There the king’s body was laid, without any words, or other ceremonies, than the tears and sighs of the few beholders. Upon the coffin was a plate of silver fixed with these words only: ‘King Charles, 1648.’ When the coffin was put in, the black velvet pall, that had covered it, was thrown over it, and then the earth thrown in.”Such, clearly, could not have been the facts.
Lord Clarendon then proceeds to speak of the impossibility of finding the body ten years after, when it was the wish of Charles II. to place it, with all honor, in the chapel of Henry VII., in Westminster Abbey. For this he accounts, by stating, that most of those present, at theinterment, were dead or dispersed, at the restoration; and the memories of the remaining few had become so confused, that they could not designate the spot; and, after opening the ground, in several places, without success, they gave the matter up. Now there can be no doubt, that the body was placed in the vault, where it was found, in 1813, and that nointermenttook place, in the proper sense of that word. Had Richmond, Hertford, Southampton, or Lindsey been alive, or at hand, thevault itself, and not a spotnear the vault, would, doubtless, have been indicated, as the resting place of King Charles. Wood, in the Athenæ Oxonienses, states, that the royal corpse was “well coffined, and all afterwards wrapped up in lead and covered with a new velvet pall.” All this perfectly agrees with the account, given by Sir Henry Halford, and certified by the Prince Regent, in 1813.
Sir Henry Halford states, that George the Fourth had built a mausoleum, at Windsor; and, while constructing a passage, under the choir of St. George’s Chapel, an opening was unintentionally made into the vault of Henry VIII., through which, the workmen saw, not only those two coffins, which were supposed to contain the bodies of Henry VIII. and Jane Seymour, but a third, covered with a black pall. Mr. Herbert’s account, quoted in my last number, from the Athenæ, left little doubt, that this was the coffin of Charles I.; notwithstanding the statementsof Lord Clarendon, that the body was interrednearthe vault. An examination was made, April 1, 1813, in the presence of George IV., then Prince Regent, the Duke of Cumberland, Count Munster, the Dean of Windsor, Benjamin Charles Stevenson, Esq., and Sir Henry Halford; of which the latter published an account. London, 1831. This account is exceedingly interesting. “On removing the pall, a plain leaden coffin, with no appearance of ever having been enclosed in wood, and bearing an inscription,King Charles, 1648, in large legible characters, on a scroll of lead encircling it, immediately presented itself to view.
“A square opening was then made, in the upper part of the lid, of such dimensions, as to admit a clear insight into its contents. These were an internal wooden coffin, very much decayed, and the body carefully wrapped up in cere-cloth, into the folds of which a quantity of unctuous or greasy matter, mixed with resin, as it seemed, had been melted, so as to exclude, as effectually as possible, the external air. The coffin was completely full; and from the tenacity of the cere-cloth, great difficulty was experienced, in detaching it successfully from the parts, which it enveloped. Wherever the unctuous matter had insinuated itself, the separation of the cere-cloth was easy; and when it came off, a correct impression of the features, to which it had been applied, was observed in the unctuous substance. At length the whole face was disengaged from its covering. The complexion of the skin of it was dark and discolored. The forehead and temples had lost little or nothing of their muscular substance; the cartilage of the nose was gone; but the left eye, in the first moment of exposure, was open and full, though it vanished, almost immediately; and the pointed beard, so characteristic of the period of the reign of King Charles, was perfect. The shape of the face was a long oval; many of the teeth remained; and the left ear, in consequence of the interposition of the unctuous matter, between it and the cere-cloth, was found entire.
“It was difficult, at this moment, to withhold a declaration, that, notwithstanding its disfigurement, the countenance did bear a strong resemblance to the coins, the busts, and especially to the pictures of King Charles I., by Vandyke, by which it had been made familiar to us. It is true, that the minds of the spectators of this interesting sight were well prepared to receive thisimpression; but it is also certain, that such a facility of belief had been occasioned, by the simplicity and truth of Mr. Herbert’s narrative, every part of which had been confirmed by the investigation, so far as it had advanced; and it will not be denied, that the shape of the face, the forehead, an eye, and the beard, are the most important features, by which resemblance is determined.
“When the head had been entirely disengaged from the attachments, which confined it, it was found to be loose, and without any difficulty was taken up and held to view. It was quite wet, and gave a greenish and red tinge to paper and to linen, which touched it. The back part of the scalp was entirely perfect, and had a remarkably fresh appearance; the pores of the skin being more distinct, as they usually are, when soaked in moisture; and the tendons and ligaments of the neck were of considerable substance and firmness. The hair was thick, at the back part of the head, and in appearance, nearly black. A portion of it, which has since been cleansed and dried, is of a beautiful dark brown color. That of the beard was of a redder brown. On the back part of the head it was not more than an inch in length, and had probably been cut so short, for the convenience of the executioner, or perhaps, by the piety of friends, soon after death, in order to furnish memorials of the unhappy king.”
“On holding up the head to examine the place of separation from the body, the muscles of the neck had evidently retracted themselves considerably; and the fourth cervical vertebra was found to be cut through its substance transversely, leaving the surfaces of the divided portions perfectly smooth and even, an appearance, which could have been produced only by a heavy blow, inflicted with a very sharp instrument, and which furnished the last proof wanting to identify King Charles, the First. After this examination of the head, which served every purpose in view, and without examining the body below the neck, it was immediately restored to its situation, the coffin was soldered up again, and the vault closed.”
“Neither of the other coffins had any inscription upon them. The larger one, supposed, on good grounds, to contain the remains of Henry VIII., measured six feet ten inches in length, and had been enclosed in an elm one, of two inches in thickness; but this was decayed, and lay in small fragments. Theleaden coffin appeared to have been beaten in by violence about the middle, and a considerable opening in that part of it, exposed a mere skeleton of the king. Some beard remained upon the chin, but there was nothing to discriminate the personage contained in it.”
This is, certainly, a very interesting account. Some beard still remained upon the chin of Henry VIII., says Sir Henry Halford. Henry VIII. died Jan. 28, 1547. He had been dead, therefore, April 1, 1813, the day of the examination, two hundred and sixty-six years. The larger coffin measured six feet ten inches. Sir Henry means top measure. We always allow seven feet lid, or thereabouts, for a six feet corpse. Henry, in his History, vol. xi. p. 369, Lond. 1814, says that King Henry VIII. was tall. Strype, in Appendix A., vol. vi. p. 267, Ecc. Mem., London, 1816, devotes twenty-four octavo pages to an account of the funeral of Henry VIII., with all its singular details; and, at the last, he says—“Then was the vault uncovered, under the said corpse; and the corpse let down therein by the vice, with help of sixteen tal yeomen of the guard, appointed to the same.” “Then, when the mold was brought in, at the word, pulverem pulveri et cinerem cineri, first the Lord Great Master, and after the Lord Chamberlain and al others in order, with heavy and dolorous lamentation brake their staves in shivers upon their heads and cast them after the corps into the pit. And then the gentlemen ushers, in like manner brake their rods, and threw them into the vault with exceeding sorrow and heaviness, not without grievous sighs and tears, not only of them, but of many others, as well of the meaner sort, as of the nobility, very piteous and sorrowful to behold.”
My attention was arrested, a day or two since, by a memorial, referred to, in the Atlas, from the owner of the land, famous, in revolutionary history, as the birth-place ofLiberty Tree; and, especially, by a suggestion, which quadrates entirely with my notions of the fitness of things. If I were a demi-millionaire, Ishould delight to raise a monument, upon that consecrated spot—it should be a simple colossal shaft, of Massachusetts granite, surmounted with the cap of liberty. I would not inscribe one syllable upon it—but, if any grey-headedBoston boy—born here, within the limits of the old peninsula—should be moved, by the spirit, to write below—
Hæc olim meminisse juvabit—
I should not deem that act any interference with my original purpose.
What days and nights those were! 1765! then, the man, who has now passed on to ninety-four, was the boy of ten! How perfectly the tablet of memory retains those impressions, made, by the pressure of great events, when the wax was soft and warm!
It is quite common, with the present generation, at least, to connect the origin ofLiberty Treewith 1775-6. This is an error. It became celebrated, ten years earlier, during the disturbances in Boston, on account of the Stamp Act, which passed March 22, 1765, and was to be in force, on the first of November following. Intelligence arrived, that Andrew Oliver, Secretary of the Province, was to be distributor of stamps.
There was a cluster or grove of beautiful elms, inHanover Square—such was the name, then given to the corner of Orange, now part of Washington Street, and Auchmuty’s Lane, now Essex Street. Opposite the southwesterly corner of Frog Lane, now Boylston Street, where the market-house now stands, there was an old house, with manifold gables, and two massive chimneys, and, in the yard, in front of it, there stood a large, spreading elm. This wasLiberty Tree. Its first designation was on this wise. During the night of August 13, 1765, some of theSons of Liberty, as they styled themselves, assuming the appellation bestowed on them in the House of Commons, by Col. Barre, in a moment of splendid but unpremeditated eloquence, hung, upon that tree, an effigy of Mr. Oliver, and a boot, with a figure of the devil peeping out, and holding the stamp act in his hand; this boot was intended as a practical pun—wretched enough—upon the name of Lord Bute. In the morning of the 14th, a great crowd collected to the spot. Some of the neighbors attempted to take the effigy down. TheSons of Libertygave them a forcible hint, and they desisted. The Lieutenant Governor, as Chief Justice, directed the sheriff to take it down: hereconnoitred the ground, and reported that it could not be done, without peril of life.
Business was suspended, about town. After dark, the effigy was borne, by the mob, to a building, which was supposed to have been erected, as a stamp-office. This they destroyed, and, bearing the fragments to Fort Hill, where Mr. Oliver lived, they made a bonfire, and burnt the effigy before his door. They next drove him and his family from his house, broke the windows and fences, and stoned the Lieutenant Governor and Sheriff, when they came to parley—all this, upon the night of August 14, 1765. On the 26th, they destroyed the house of Mr. Story, register-deputy of the Admiralty, and burnt the books and records of the court. They then served the house of Mr. Hollowell, Contractor of the Customs, in a similar manner, plundering and carrying away money and chattels. They next proceeded to the residence of the Lieutenant Governor, and destroyed every article not easily transported, doing irreparable mischief, by the destruction of many valuable manuscripts. The next day, a town meeting was held, and the citizens expressed theirdetestation of the riots—and, afterwards manifested their silent sympathy with the mob, by punishing nobody.
Nov. 1, 1765, the day, when the stamp act came into force, the bells were muffled and tolled; the shipping displayed their colors, at half mast; the stamp act was printed, with a death’s head, in the place of the stamp, and cried about the streets, under the name of theFolly of England, and the Ruin of America. A new political journal appeared, having for its emblem, or political phylactery, a serpent, cut into pieces, each piece bearing the initials of a colony, with the ominous motto—JOIN OR DIE. More effigies were hung, upon “the large old elm,” as Gordon terms it—Liberty Tree. They were then cut down, and escorted over town. They were brought back, and hung up again; taken down again; escorted to the Neck, by an immense concourse; hanged upon the gallows tree; taken down once more; and torn into innumerable fragments. Three cheers were then given, and, upon a request to that effect, every man went quietly home; and a night of unusual stillness ensued.
Hearing that Mr. Oliver intended to resume his office, he was required, through the newspaper, by an anonymous writer, to acknowledge, or deny, the truth of that report. His answer proving unsatisfactory, he received a requisition, Nov. 16th, toappear “tomorrow, underLiberty Tree,to make a public resignation.” Two thousand persons gathered then, beneath thatTree—not the rabble, but the selectmen, the merchants, and chief inhabitants. Mr. Oliver requested, that the meeting might be held, in the town house; but theSONS OF LIBERTYseemed resolved, that he should betreed—no place, under the canopy of Heaven, would answer, butLiberty Tree. Mr. Oliver came; subscribed an ample declaration; and made oath to it, before Richard Dana, J. P. This exactitude and circumspection, on the part of the people, was not a work of supererogation: Andrew Oliver was a most amiable man, in private, but a most lubricious hypocrite, in public life; as appears by his famous letters, sent home by Dr. Franklin, in 1772. After his declaration under theTREE, he made a short speech, expressive of his “utter detestation of the stamp act.” What a spectacle was there and then! The best and the boldest were there. Samuel Adams and John—Jerry Gridley, Samuel Sewall, and John Hancock,et id genus omnewere in Boston then, and the busiest men alive: their absence would have been marked—they must have been there. What an act of daring, thus to defy the monarch and his vicegerents! I paused, this very day, and gazed upon the spot, and put the steam upon my imagination, to conjure, into life and action, that little band of sterling patriots, gathered around; and that noble elm in their midst:—
“In medio ramos annosaque brachia panditUlmus opaca, ingens.”
Thenceforward, theSons of Libertyseem to have taken theTREE, under their special protection. On Valentine’s day, 1776, they assembled, and passed a vote, thatit should be pruned after the best manner. It is well, certainly, now and then, to lop off some rank, disorderly shoots of licentiousness, that will sometimes appear, uponLiberty Tree. It was pruned, accordingly, by a party of volunteer carpenters, under the direction of a gentleman of skill and judgment, in such matters.
News of the repeal of the stamp act arrived in Boston, May 16, 1766. The bells rang merrily—and the cannon were unlimbered, aroundLiberty Tree, and bellowed for joy. TheTREE, so skilfully pruned, in February, must have presented a beautiful appearance, bourgeoning forth, in the middle of May!The nineteenth of May was appointed, for a merrymaking. At one, in the morning, the bell of the Hollis Street Church, says a zealous writer of that day, “began to ring”—sua sponte, no doubt. The slumbers of the pastor, Dr. Byles, were disturbed, of course, for he was a tory, though a very pleasant tory, after all. Christ Church replied, with its royal peal, from the North, andGod save the king, rang pleasantly again, in colonial ears. The universal joy was expressed, in all those unphilosophical ways, enumerated by Pope,
With gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss and thunder.
Liberty Treewas hung with various colors. Fireworks and illuminations succeeded. Gov. Hancock treated the people with “a pipe of Madeira;” and theSons of Libertyraised a pyramid, upon the Common, with two hundred and eighty lamps. At twelve o’clock—midnight—a drum, upon the Common, beat thetattoo; and men, women, and children retired to their homes, in the most perfect order: verily, a soberness had come over the spirit of their dreams, and method into their madness. On the evening of the twentieth of May, it was resolved to have a festival of lanterns.
The inhabitants vied with each other; and, about dusk, they were seen streaming, from all quarters, toHanover Square, every man and boy with his lamp or lantern. In a brief space,Liberty Treewas converted into a brilliant constellation. Like the sparkling waters, during the burning of Ucalegon’s palace, described by Homer, the boughs, the branches, the veriest twigs of this popular idol
————“were bright,With splendors not their own, and shone with sparkling light.”
It appears, by the journals of that day, from which most of these particulars are gathered, that our fathers—what inimitable, top-gallant fellows they were!—took a pleasant fancy into their heads, that these lamps would shed a brighter lustre, if the poor debtors, in jail, could join in the general joy, underLiberty Tree. Accordingly they made up a purse and paid the debts of them all! There was a general jail delivery of the poor debtors, for very joy. Well: a Boston boy, of the old school, was a noble animal—how easily held by the heart-strings!—with how much difficulty, by the head or the tail!
An antiquarian friend, to whom I am already under sundryobligations, has obligingly loaned me an interesting document, in connection with the subject ofLiberty Tree; under whose shade I propose to linger a little longer.
March 22, 1765. George III. and his ministers took it into their heads to sow the wind; and, in an almost inconceivably short time, they reaped the whirlwind. They scattered dragons’ teeth, and there came up armed men. They planted the stamp act, in the Colonial soil, and there sprang into life, mature and full of vigor, theLiberty Tree, like Minerva, fully developed, and in perfect armor, from the brain of Jupiter. Whoever would find a clear, succinct, and impartial account of the effect of the stamp act, upon the people of New England, may resort to Dodsley’s Annual Register, page 49, of that memorable year. “The sun of liberty has set,” wrote Franklin home, “but you must light up the candles of industry and economy.”
The life of that act of oppression was short and stormy. March 18, 1766, its miserable requiem was sung in Parliament—“an event,” says the Annual Register, of that year, page 46, “that caused more universal joy, throughout the British dominions, than, perhaps, any other, that can be remembered.” How such a viper ever found its way into the cradle of liberty is quite a marvel—certain it is, the genius of freedom, with the power of Hercules, speedily strangled it there.
In America, and, especially, in Boston, the joy, as I have already stated, was very great; and some there were, beyond all doubt, who were delighted, to find an apology, for going back to monarchical usages. Even liberty may be, sometimes, irksome, at first, to him, who has long lived a slave; and it is no small grievance, I dare say, to such, to be deprived of the luxury of calling some one, Lord and Master, after the flesh. However monstrous, and even ridiculous, the idea of a king may seem to us, republicans, born in this wonderfully bracing atmosphere—there are some, who have a strong taste forbooingand genuflection, and the doffing of beavers, and throwing up of “greasy caps,” and rending their throats, for very ecstacy, when the royalcoach is coming along, bearing the heir apparent, in diapers. This taste, I suppose, like that for olives, must be acquired; it cannot be natural.
May 19, and 20, 1766, the face of the town of Boston was dressed in smiles—a broad grin rather, from ear to ear, from Winnisimmet to Roxbury. Nothing was talked of but “a grateful people,” and “the darling monarch”—which amounts to this—the “darling monarch” had graciously desisted, from grinding their faces any longer, simply because he was convinced, that the “grateful people” would kick the grindstone over, and peradventure the grinder, should the “darling” attempt to give it another turn.
UnderLiberty Tree, there was erected, during the rejoicings, an obelisk with four sides. An engraving of those four sides was made at the time, and is now, doubtless, very rare. A copy, loaned me by the friend, to whom I referred, in my last number, is lying before me. I present it,verbatim, literatim, et punctuatim.
It is thirteen and an half inches long, and nine and an half wide. On top are these words—“A viewof theOBELISKerected underLIBERTY TREEinBostonon the Rejoicings for the Repeal of the —— Stamp Act 1766.” At the bottom—“To every Lover ofLibertythis Plate is humbly dedicated by her true bornSonsinBoston, New England.” The plate presents, apparently, four obelisks, which are, in reality, the four sides of one. Every side, above the base, is divided horizontally, and nearly equally, into three parts. The superior division of each contains four heads, many of which may be readily recognized, and all of which have indicating letters. The middle division of each contains ten decasyllabic lines. The inferior division of each contains a sketch, of rude execution, and rather more patriotic, than tasteful, in the design. The principal portraits are of George III.; Queen Charlotte; Marquis of Rockingham; Duke of York; Gen. Conway; Lord Townshend; Colonel Barré; W. Pitt; Lord Dartmouth; Charles Townshend; Lord George Sackville; John Wilkes; Alderman Beckford; Lord Camden; &c. The first side is subscribed thus: “America in distress, apprehending the total loss ofLiberty;” and is inscribed thus:
Oh thou, whom next to Heaven we most revereFairLiberty! thou lovely Goddess hear!Have we not woo’d thee, won thee, held thee long,Lain in thy Lap and melted on thy tongue.Thro’ Deaths and Dangers rugged paths pursu’dAnd led thee smiling to thisSolitude,Hid thee within our hearts’ most golden cellAnd brav’d the Powers of Earth and Powers of Hell,Goddess!we cannot part, thou must not fly,BeSlaves! we dare to scorn it, dare to die.
Beneath is the sketch—America recumbent and dejected, in the form of an Indian chief, under a pine tree, the angel of Liberty hovering over; the Prime minister advancing with a chain, followed by one of the bishops, and others, Bute clearly designated by his Scotch plaid, and gaiters; over head, flying towards the Indian, with the stamp act in his right claw, is the Devil; of whom it is manifest our patriotic sires had a very clever conception.
The second side is subscribed thus: “She implores the aid of her patrons;” and is inscribed thus:
While clanking chains and curses shall saluteThine Ears remorseless G——le, and thine O B——e,To you blestPatriots, we our cause submit,IllustriousCampden, Britain’s Guardian,Pitt.Recede not, frown not, rather let us beDeprived of being than ofLiberty,Let fraud or malice blacken all our crimes,No disaffection stains these peaceful climes.Oh save us, shield us from impending woes,The foes of Britain only are our foes.
Beneath is the sketch—America, on one knee, pointing over her shoulder towards a retreating group, composed, as the chain and the plaid inform us, of the Prime Minister Bute, and company, upon whose heads a thunder cloud is bursting. At the same time America—the Indian, as before—supplicates the aid of others, whose leader is being crowned, by Fame, with a laurel wreath. The enormous nose—a great help to identification—marks the Earl of Chatham; Camden may be known by his wig; and Barré by his military air.
The third side is subscribed thus: “She endures the Conflict, for a short Season” and is inscribed thus:
Boast foul Oppression, boast thy transient Reign,While honestFreedomstruggles with her Chain,But know the Sons of Virtue, hardy, brave,Disclaim to lose thro’ mean Dispair to save;Arrowed in Thunder awfull they appear,With proud Deliverance stalking in their Rear,While Tyrant Foes their pallid Fears betray,Shrink from their Arms, and give their Vengeance way.See in the unequal WarOppressorsfall,The hate, contempt, and endless Curse of all.
Beneath is the sketch—The Tree of Liberty, with an eagle feeding its young, in the topmost branches, and an angel advancing with an ægis.
The fourth side is subscribed thus: “And has herLibertyrestored by the Royal hand ofGeorgethe Third;” and is inscribed thus:
OurFaithapprov’d, ourLibertyrestor’d,Our Hearts bend grateful to our sov’reign Lord;Hail darling Monarch! by this act endear’d,Our firm affections are thy best reward—Sh’d Britain’s self against herself divide,And hostile Armies frown on either side;Sh’d hosts rebellious shake our Brunswick’s Throne,And as they dar’d thy Parent dare the Son.To this Asylum stretch thine happy Wing,And we’ll contend who best shall love ourKing.
Beneath is the sketch—George the Third, in armor, resembling a Dutch widow, in a long-short, introducing America to the goddess of liberty, who are, apparently, just commencing the Polka—at the bottom of the engraving are the words—Paul Revere Sculp.Our ancestors dealt rather in fact than fiction—they were no poets.
Gordon refers toLIBERTY TREE, i. 175.
The fame ofLIBERTY TREEspread far beyond its branches. Not long before it was cut down, by the British soldiers, during the winter of 1775-6, an English gentleman, Philip Billes, residing at Backway, near Cambridge, England, died, seized of a considerable fortune, which he bequeathed to two gentlemen, not relatives, on condition, that they would faithfully execute a provision, set forth in his will, namely, that his body should be buried, under the shadow ofLIBERTY TREE, in Boston, New England. This curious statement was published in England, June 3, 1774, and may be found in the Boston Evening Gazette, first page, Aug. 22, 1774, printed by Thomas & John Fleet, sign of the Heart and Crown, Cornhill.