The duel, between David and Goliath, bears a striking resemblance to that, between Titus Manlius and the Gaul, so finely described, by Livy, lib. vii. cap. 10. In both cases, the circumstances, at the commencement, were precisely alike. The armies of the Hernici and of the Romans were drawn up, on the opposite banks of the Anio—those of the Israelites and of the Philistines, on two mountains, on the opposite sides of the valley of Elah. “Tum eximia corporis magnitudine in vacuum pontem Gallus processit, et quantum maxima voce potuit,quem nuncinquitRoma virum fortissimum habet, procedat, agedum, ad pugnam, ut noster duorum eventus ostendat, utra gens bello sit melior.” Then, a Gaul of enormous size, came down upon the unoccupied bridge, and cried out, as loud as he could, let the bravest of the Romans come forth—let him come on—and let the issue of our single combat decide, which nation is superior in war.—And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. * * * * And he stood, and cried unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them, why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am not I a Philistine, and ye servants of Saul? Choose you a man for you, and let him come down to me. If he be able to fight with me and to kill me, then will we be your servants; but if I prevail against him and kill him, then shall ye be our servants, and serve us.
The next point, is the effect upon the two armies: “Diu inter primores juvenum Romanorum silentium fuit, quum et abnuere certamen vererentur, et præcipuam sortem periculi petere nollent.” There was a long silence, upon this, among the chiefs of the young Romans; for, while they were afraid to refuse the challenge, they were reluctant to encounter this peculiar kind ofperil.—When Saul and all Israel heard those words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid.
After Titus Manlius had accepted the challenge, he seems desirous of giving his commander a proof of his confidence in himself, and the reasons, or grounds, of that confidence: “Si tu permittis, volo ego illi belluæ ostendere, quando adeo ferox præsultat hostium signis, me ex ea familia ortum, quæ Gallorum agmen ex rupe Tarpeia dejecit.” If you will permit me, I will show this brute, after he has vaunted a little longer, in this braggart style, before the banners of the enemy, that I am sprung from the family, that hurled the whole host of Gauls from the Tarpeian rock.—And David said to Saul, let no man’s heart fail because of him, thy servant will go and fight with this Philistine. * * * * Thy servant kept his father’s sheep, and there came a lion and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock. And I went out after him, and delivered it out of his mouth; and when he arose against me, I caught him, by his beard, and smote him and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear, and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them.
The difference in their port and appearance may also be considered. “Nequaquam visu ac specie æstimantibus pares. Corpus alteri magnitudine eximium, versicolori veste, pictisque et auro cælatis refulgens armis; media in altero militaris statura, modicaque in armis habilibus magis quam decoris species.” In size and appearance, there was no resemblance. The frame of the Gaul was enormous. He wore a vest whose color was changeable, and his refulgent arms were highly ornamented and studded with gold. The Roman was of middle military stature, and his simple weapons were calculated for service and not for show. Of Goliath we read—He had a helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail. * * * And he had greaves of brass upon his legs, and a target of brass between his shoulders, and the staff of his spear was like a weaver’s beam; and David took his staff in his hand, and chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a shepherd’s bag which he had, even in a scrip, and his sling was in his hand. The General’s consent is given to Titus Manlius, in these words—“Perge et nomen Romanum invictum, juvantibus diis, præsta.” Go, and have a care, the gods assisting thee, that the Roman name remains unconquered. And Saul said unto David, Go,and the Lord be with thee. The Philistine and the Gaul were both speedily killed, and here the parallel ends; for David hewed off the Philistine’s head. The Roman was more generous than the child of Israel—“Jacentis inde corpus, ab omni alia vexatione intactum, uno torque spoliavit; quem, respersum cruore, collo circumdedit suo.” He despoiled the body of his fallen foe, in no otherwise insulted, of a chain, which, bloody, as it was, he placed around his own neck. I cannot turn from this gallant story, without remarking, that this Titus Manlius must have been a terrible wag: Livy says, that his young companions having prepared him for the duel—“armatum adornatumque adversus Gallum stolide lætum, et (quoniam id quoque memoria dignum antiquis visum est) linguam, etiam ab irrisu exscrentem, producunt”—they brought him forward, armed and prepared for his conflict with the Gaul, childishly delighted, and (since the ancients have thought it worth repeating) waggishly thrusting his tongue out of his mouth, in derision of his antagonist.
Doubtless, the challenge of Charles V. by Francis I., in which affair, Charles, in the opinion of some folks, showed a little, if the cant phrase be allowable, of the white feather, gave an impetus to the practice of duelling. Doubtless, thewager of battelsupplied something of the form and ceremony, the use of seconds, and measuring the lists, the signal of onset, &c. of modern duels: but the principle was in the bosom of Adam, and the practice is of the highest antiquity.
Woman, in some way or other, has been, very often, at the bottom of these duels. Helen, as the chief occasion of the Trojan war, was, of course, the cause of Hector’s duel with Ajax, which duel, as the reader will see, by turning to his Iliad, lib. viii. v. 279, was stopped, by the police, at the very moment, when both gentlemen, having thrown their lances aside, were drawing their long knives. Lavinia set Turnus and Æneas by the cars. Turnus challenged him twice. Upon the first occasion, Æneas was unwell; but, upon the second, they had a meeting, and he killed his man. David would not have accepted Goliath’s challenge, had not his heart been set upon Saul’s daughter,and the shekels. I find nothing of this, in the commentators; but the reader may find it, in the Book of Nature,passim. For one so young, David practised, with all the wariness of an old bachelor. When he first arrived in camp, some one asked him, if he had seen Goliath, and added,and it shallbe that the man who killeth him the King will enrich him with great riches, and will give him his daughter. David had no idea of going upon a fool’s errand; and, to make matters sure, he turned to those about him, and inquired, clearly for confirmation,what shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine?And they repeated what he had heard before. David was a discreet youth, for one of his time, the titman, as he was, of Jesse’s eight children—and, to avoid all chance of mistake, he walks off to another person, near at hand, and repeats his inquiry, and receives a similar answer. Sam. I. xvii. 30. A wide difference there is, between the motives of Titus Manlius, in accepting the challenge of the Gaul, and those of David, in accepting that of the Philistine—the love of country and of glory in the first—in the last, the desire of possessing Saul’s daughterand the shekels.
Duels have been occasioned, by other Helens than her of Troy. A pleasant tale is told, by Valvasor, in his work,La Gloire de Duche de Carniole, Liv. ii. p. 634—of Andrew Eberhard Rauber, a German Knight, and Lord of the fortress of Petronel. Maximilian II., Emperor of Germany, had a natural daughter, Helen Scharseginn, of exquisite beauty, who had a brace of gallant admirers, of whom Rauber was one—the other was a Spanish gentleman, of high rank. Both were at the court of Maximilian, and in such high favor, that the Emperor was extremely unwilling to disoblige either. Upon the lifting of a finger, these gallants were ready to fight a score of duels, for the lady’s favor, in the most approved fashion of the day. To this the Emperor was decidedly opposed; and, had they resorted to such extremities, neither would have taken anything, by his motion. The Emperor secretly preferred the German alliance, but was unwilling to offend the Spaniard. He was young and of larger proportions, than his German rival; but Rauber’s prodigious strength had become a proverb, through the land. He had the power of breaking horse-shoes with his thumbs and fingers; and, upon one occasion, at Gratz, in the presence of the Archduke Charles, according to Valvasor’s account, he seized an insolent Jew, by his long beard, and actually pulled his jaw off. He was a terrible antagonist, of course.
Maximilian, heartily wearied with their incessant strife and importunity, finally consented, that the question should be settled, by a duel, in presence of the whole court. The hour wasappointed, and the parties duly notified. The terms of the conflict were to be announced, by the Emperor. The day arrived. The Lords and Ladies of the Court were assembled, to witness the combat; and the rivals presented themselves, with their weapons, prepared to struggle manfully, for life and love.
The Emperor commanded the combatants to lay their rapiers aside, and each was presented with a large bag or sack; and they were told, that whichever should succeed, in putting the other into the sack, should be entitled to the hand of the fair Helen Scharseginn.
Though, doubtless, greatly surprised, by this extraordinary announcement, there appeared to be no alternative, and at it they went. After a protracted struggle, amid shouts of laughter from the spectators, Rauber, Lord of the fortress of Petronel, obtained the victory, bagged his bird, and encased the haughty Spaniard in the sack, who, shortly after, departed from the court of Maximilian.
Would to God, that all duels were as harmless, in their consequences. It is not precisely so. When the gentleman, that does the murder, and the two or more gentlemen, who aid and abet, have finished their handiwork, the end is not yet—mother, wife, sisters, brothers, children are involuntary parties—the iron, or the lead, which pierced that selfish heart, must enter their very souls.
Where these encounters have proved fatal, the survivors, as I have stated, have, occasionally, gone mad. It is not very common, to be sure, for duels to produce such melancholy consequences, as those, which occurred, after that, between Cameron and McLean, in 1722. McLean was killed. Upon receiving the intelligence, his aged mother lost her reason, and closed her days in a mad-house. The lady, to whom he was betrothed, expired in convulsions, upon the third day, after the event—n’importe!
It is quite unpleasant, after having diligently read a volume of memoirs, or voyages, or travels, and carefully transferred a goodly number of interesting items to one’s common-placebook—to discover, that the work,ab ovo usque ad mala, is an ingenious tissue of deliberate lies. It is no slight aggravation of this species of affliction, to reflect, that one has highly commended the work, to some of his acquaintances, who are no way remarkable, for their bowels of compassion, and whose intelligible smile he is certain to encounter, when they first meet again, after theéclaircissement.
There is very little of thehæc olim meminisse juvabit, in store, for those, who have been thus misled. If there had been, absolutely, no foundation for the story, in the credulity of certain members of the Royal Society, Butler would not, probably, have produced his pleasant account of “the elephant in the moon.” There were some very grave gentlemen, of lawful age, who were inclined to receive, for sober truth, that incomparable hoax, of which Sir John Herschell was represented, as the hero.
Damberger’s travels, in Africa, and his personal adventures there gave me great pleasure, when I was a boy; and I remember to have felt excessively indignant, when I discovered, that the work was written, in a garret, in the city of Amsterdam, by a fellow who had never quitted Europe.
I never derived much pleasure or instruction, from Wraxall’s memoirs of the Kings of France of the race of Valois, nor from his tour through the Southern Provinces, published in 1777. But his Historical memoirs of his own time, prepared, somewhat after the manner of De Thou, and Bishop Burnet, and extending from 1772 to 1784, I well remember to have read, with very considerable pleasure, in 1816; and was pained to find them cut up, however unmercifully, with so much irresistible justice, in the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews, and the British Critic. Mr. Wraxall made matters immeasurably worse, by his defence. There could be no adequate defence, for a man, who had asserted, that Lord Dorset told him an anecdote, touching an event,which event did not happen, till Lord Dorset was dead. A single instance of this kind, in a writer of common accuracy, might be carried, in charity, to the debit of chance, or forgetfulness; but the catalogue, presented by the reviewers, is truly overpowering. To close the account, Sir N. W. Wraxall was, in May, 1816, convicted of a libel, in these very memoirs, upon Count Woronzow, the Russian minister; and Mr. Wraxall was imprisoned in Newgate, for that offence.
After this disqualification of my witness, I am, nevertheless,about to vouch in Mr. Wraxall, by reciting one of his stories, in illustration of a principle. I quote from memory—I have not the work—the reviewers prevented me from buying it. June 16, 1743, the battle of Dettingen was fought, and won, by George II. in person, and the Earl of Stair, against the Marechal de Noailles and the Duke de Grammont. Mr. Wraxall relates—me memoria mea non fallente—the following incident. After the battle, the Earl gave a dinner, at his quarters; and, among the guests, were several of the French prisoners of war. Of course, the Earl of Stair presided, at one end of the table—at the other sat a gentleman, of very common-place appearance, of small stature, thin and pale, evidently an invalid, and who, unless addressed, scarcely opened his lips, during the entertainment. This unobtrusive, and rather unprepossessing, young man was the Lord Mark Kerr, the nephew, and the aid-de-camp of the Earl. After the removal of the cloth, the gentlemen discussed the subject of the battle, and the manœuvres, by which the victory had been achieved. A difference of opinion arose, between the Earl and one of the French Colonels, as to the time of a particular movement. The latter became highly excited, and very confident he was right. The Earl referred to Lord Mark Kerr, whose position, at the time of that movement, rendered his decision conclusive. Lord Mark politely assured the French Colonel, that he was mistaken; upon which the Frenchman instantly insulted him, without saying a word, but in that felicitous manner, which enables a Frenchman to convey an insult, even by his mode of taking snuff. Soon after, the party broke up, and the Earl of Stair was left alone. In about half an hour, Lord Mark Kerr returned, and found his uncle very much disturbed.
“Nephew,” said he, “you know my strong dislike of duelling. In our situation we are sometimes, perhaps, unable to avoid it. The French Colonel insulted you, at table; others noticed it, besides myself. I fear, my dear nephew, you will have to ask him to apologize.”
“I noticed it myself, my Lord,” replied the Lord Mark; “you need have no trouble, on that account—we have already met—I ran him through the body; and they are now burying him, in the outer court.”
Duels are often produced, by a foolish, and fatal misestimate, which one man makes of another’s temperament. The diminutiveframe, the pale cheek, and small voice, modest carriage, youth, and inexperience, afford no certain indicia:nimium ne crede colori. Men of small stature, are sometimes the morebrusque, and more on thequi vive, from this very circumstance.
Ingentes animos angusto in pectore volvunt.
That a man will not fight, like a dragon, simply because he has neither the stature of Falstaff, nor the lungs of Bottom, is a well authenticatednon sequitur.
A well told, and well substantiated illustration of all this, may be found, in Mackenzie’s Life of Decatur, page 55. I refer to the case of Joseph Bainbridge, who, in 1803, when a midshipman, and an inexperienced boy, was purposely and wantonly insulted, at Malta, by a professed duellist, the Secretary of Sir Alexander Ball, the Governor. No one can read Mackenzie’s Narrative, without a conviction, that Bainbridge owed the preservation of his life, to the address of Decatur. They met—fired twice, at four paces; and, at the second fire, the English duellist fell, mortally wounded in the head: Bainbridge was untouched.
When I was a school boy, more than fifty years ago, I remember to have read, in an English journal, whose name I have now forgotten, a story, which may have been a fiction; but which was very naturally told, and made a deep impression upon me then. I will endeavor to draw it forth from the locker of my memory; and engage, beforehand, to be very much indebted to any one, who will indicate its original source.
Three young gentlemen, who had finished the most substantial part of their repast, were lingering over their fruit and wine, at an eating-house, in London; when a man, of middle age, and middle stature, entered the public room, where they were sitting; seated himself, at one end of a small, unoccupied table; and, calling the waiter, ordered a simple mutton chop, and a glass of ale. His appearance, at first view, was not likely to arrest the attention of any one. His hair was getting to be thin and gray; the expression of his countenance was sedate, with a slight touch, perhaps, of melancholy; and he wore a gray surtout, with a standing collar, which, manifestly, had seen service, if the wearer had not—just such a thing, as an officer would bestow upon his serving man. He might be taken for a country magistrate, or an attorney, of limited practice, or a schoolmaster.
He continued to masticate his chop, and sip his ale, in silence, without lifting his eyes from the table, until a melon seed, sportively snapped, from between the thumb and finger of one of the gentlemen, at the opposite table, struck him upon the right ear. His eye was instantly upon the aggressor; and his ready intelligence gathered, from the illy suppressed merriment of the party, that this petty impertinence was intentional.
The stranger stooped, and picked up the melon seed, and a scarcely perceptible smile passed over his features, as he carefully wrapped up the seed, in a piece of paper, and placed it in his pocket. This singular procedure, with their preconceived impressions of their customer, somewhat elevated, as they were, by the wine they had partaken, capsized their gravity entirely, and a burst of irresistible laughter proceeded from the group.
Unmoved by this rudeness, the stranger continued to finish his frugal repast, in quiet, until another melon seed, from the same hand, struck him, upon the right elbow. This also, to the infinite amusement of the other party, he picked from the floor, and carefully deposited with the first.
Amidst shouts of laughter, a third melon seed was, soon after, discharged, which hit him, upon the left breast. This also he, very deliberately took from the floor, and deposited with the other two.
As he rose, and was engaged in paying for his repast, the gayety of these sporting gentlemen became slightly subdued. It was not easy to account for this. Lavater would not have been able to detect the slightest evidence of irritation or resentment, upon the features of the stranger. He seemed a little taller, to be sure, and the carriage of his head might have appeared to them rather more erect. He walked to the table, at which they were sitting, and with that air of dignified calmness, which is a thousand times more terrible than wrath, drew a card from his pocket, and presented it, with perfect civility, to the offender, who could do no less than offer his own, in return. While the stranger unclosed his surtout, to take the card from his pocket, they had a glance at the undress coat of a military man. The card disclosed his rank, and a brief inquiry at the bar was sufficient for the rest. He was a captain, whom ill health and long service had entitled to half pay. In earlier life he had been engaged in several affairs of honor, and, in the dialect of the fancy, was a dead shot.
The next morning a note arrived at the aggressor’s residence, containing a challenge, in form, and one only of the melon seeds. The truth then flashed before the challenged party—it was the challenger’s intention to make three bites at this cherry, three separate affairs out of this unwarrantable frolic! The challenge was accepted, and the challenged party, in deference to the challenger’s reputed skill with the pistol, had half decided upon the small sword; but his friends, who were on the alert, soon discovered, that the captain, who had risen by his merit, had, in the earlier days of his necessity, gained his bread, as an accomplished instructor, in the use of that very weapon. They met and fired, alternately, by lot; the young man had elected this mode, thinking he might win the first fire—he did—fired, and missed his opponent. The captain levelled his pistol and fired—the ball passed through the flap of the right ear, and grazed the bone; and, as the wounded man involuntarily put his hand to the place, he remembered that it was on the right ear of his antagonist, that the first melon seed had fallen. Here ended the first lesson. A month had passed. His friends cherished the hope, that he would hear nothing more from the captain, when another note—a challenge of course—and another of those accursed melon seeds arrived, with the captain’s apology, on the score of ill-health, for not sending it before.
Again they met—fired simultaneously, and the captain, who was unhurt, shattered the right elbow of his antagonist—the very point upon which he had been struck by the second melon seed: and here ended the second lesson. There was something awfully impressive, in themodus operandi, and exquisite skill of this antagonist. The third melon seed was still in his possession, and the aggressor had not forgotten, that it had struck the unoffending gentleman, upon the left breast! A month had past—another—and another, of terrible suspense; but nothing was heard from the captain. Intelligence had been received, that he was confined to his lodgings, by illness. At length, the gentleman who had been his second, in the former duels, once more presented himself, and tendered another note, which, as the recipient perceived, on taking it, contained the last of the melon seeds. The note was superscribed in the captain’s well known hand, but it was the writing evidently of one, who wrotedeficiente manu. There was an unusual solemnity also, in the manner of him, who delivered it. The seal was broken, and there was themelon seed, in a blank envelope—“And what, sir, am I to understand by this?”—“You will understand, sir, that my friend forgives you—he is dead.”
A curious story of vicarious hanging is referred to, by several of the earlier historians, of New England. The readers of Hudibras will remember the following passage, Part ii. 407—
“Justice gives sentence, many times,On one man for another’s crimes.Our brethren of New England useChoice malefactors to excuse,And hang the guiltless in their stead,Of whom the churches have less need:As lately ’t happen’d:—in a townThere liv’d a cobbler, and but one,That out of doctrine could cut use,And mend men’s lives, as well as shoes.This precious brother having slain,In times of peace, an Indian,Not out of malice, but mere zeal,Because he was an infidel;The mighty TottipottymoySent to our ciders an envoy;Complaining sorely of the breachOf league, held forth by brother Patch,Against the articles in forceBetween both churches, his and ours,For which he crav’d the saints to renderInto his hands, or hang th’ offender:But they, maturely having weigh’dThey had no more but him o’ the trade,A man that served them, in a doubleCapacity, to teach and cobble,Resolved to spare him; yet to doThe Indian Hoghan Moghan tooImpartial Justice, in his stead didHang an old weaver, that was bedrid.”
This is not altogether the sheerpoetica licentia, that common readers may suppose it to be. Hubbard, Mass. Hist. Coll. xv. 77, gives the following version, after having spoken of the theft—“the company, as some report pretended, in way of satisfaction, to punish him, that did the theft, but in his stead, hanged a poor, decrepit, old man, that wasunserviceable to the company, and burthensome to keep alive, which was the ground of the story, with which the merry gentleman, that wrote the poem, called Hudibras, did, in his poetical fancy, make so much sport. Yet the inhabitants of Plymouth tell the story much otherwise, as if the person hanged was really guilty of stealing, as may be were many of the rest, and if they were driven by necessity to content the Indians, at that time to do justice, there were some of Mr. Weston’s company living, it is possible it might be executed not on him that most deserved, but on him that could be best spared, or was not likely to live long, if let alone.”
Morton published his English Canaan, in 1637, and relates the story Part iii. ch. iv. p. 108, but he states, that it was a proposal only, which was very well received, but being opposed by one person, “they hanged up the real offender.”
As the condemned draw nigh unto death—the scaffold—the gibbet—it would be natural to suppose, that every avenue to the heart would be effectually closed, against the entrance of all impressions, but those of terrible solemnity; yet no common truth is more clearly established, than that ill-timed levity, vanity, pride, and an almost inexplicable pleasure, arising from a consciousness of being the observed of all observers, have been exhibited, by men, on their way to the scaffold, and even with the halter about their necks.
The story is well worn out, of the wretched man, who, observing the crowd eagerly rushing before him, on his way to the gallows, exclaimed, “gentlemen, why so fast—there can be no sport, till I come!”
In Jesse’s memoirs of George Selwyn, i. 345, it is stated, that John Wisket, who committed a most atrocious burglary, in 1763, the evidence of which was perfectly clear and conclusive, insisted upon wearing a large white cockade, on the scaffold, as a token of his innocence, and was swung off, bearing that significant appendage.
In the same volume, page 117, it is said of the famous Lord Lovat, that, in Scotland, a story is current, that, when upon his way to the Tower, after his condemnation, an old woman thrust her head into the window of the coach, which conveyed him, and exclaimed—“You old rascal, I begin to think you will be hung at last.” To which he instantly replied—“You old b——h, I begin to think I shall.”
In Walpole’s letters to Mann, 163, a very interesting and curious account may be found, of the execution of the Lords Kilmarnock, and Balmarino. These Lords, with the Lord Cromartie, who was pardoned, were engaged, on the side of the Pretender, in the rebellion of 1745. “Just before they came out of the Tower, Lord Balmarino drank a bumper to King James’s health. As the clock struck ten, they came forth, on foot, Lord Kilmarnock all in black, his hair unpowdered, in a bag, supported by Forster, the great Presbyterian, and by Mr. Home, a young clergyman, his friend. Lord Balmarino followed, alone, in a blue coat, turned up with red,his rebellious regimentals, a flannel waistcoat, and his shroud beneath, the hearses following. They were conducted to a house near the scaffold; the room forwards had benches for the spectators; in the second was Lord Kilmarnock; and in the third backwards Lord Balmarino—all three chambers hung with black. Here they parted! Balmarino embraced the other, and said—‘My lord, I wish I could suffer for both.’”
When Kilmarnock came to the scaffold, continues Walpole,—“He then took off his bag, coat, and waistcoat, with great composure, and, after some trouble, put on a napkin cap, and then several times tried the block, the executioner, who was in white, with a white apron, out of tenderness concealing the axe behind himself. At last the Earl knelt down, with a visible unwillingness to depart, and, after five minutes, dropped his handkerchief, the signal, and his head was cut off at once, only hanging by a bit of skin, and was received in a scarlet cloth, by four undertakers’ men kneeling, who wrapped it up, and put it into the coffin with the body; orders having been given not to expose the heads, as used to be the custom. The scaffold was immediately new strewed with sawdust, the block new covered, the executioner new dressed, and a new axe brought. Then came old Balmarino, treading with the air of a general. As soon as he mounted the scaffold, he read the inscription on his coffin, as he did again afterwards: he then surveyed the spectators, who were in amazing numbers, even upon masts of ships in the river; and, pulling out his spectacles, read a treasonable speech, which he delivered to the sheriff, and said the young Pretender was so sweet a prince, that flesh and blood could not resist following him; and, lying down to try the block, he said—‘if I had a thousand lives I would lay them all down here in the same cause.’ Hesaid, if he had not taken the sacrament the day before, he would have knocked down Williamson, the Lieutenant of the Tower, for his ill usage of him. He took the axe and felt of it, and asked the headsman how many blows he had given Lord Kilmarnock, and gave him two guineas. Then he went to the corner of the scaffold, and called very loud to the Warder, to give him his periwig, which he took off, and put on a night cap of Scotch plaid, and then pulled off his coat and waistcoat and lay down; but being told he was on the wrong side, vaulted round, and immediately gave the sign, by tossing up his arm, as if he were giving the signal for battle. He received three blows, but the first certainly took away sensation. As he was on his way to the place of execution, seeing every window open, and the roofs covered with spectators—‘Look, look,’ he cried, ‘see how they are piled up like rotten oranges!’”
Following the English custom, the clergymen of Boston were in the habit, formerly, of preaching to those, who were under sentence of death. I have before me, while I write, the following manuscript memoranda of Dr. Andrew Eliot—“1746, July 24. Thursday lecture preached by Dr. Sewall to three poor malefactors, who were executed P. M.” “1747, Oct. 8. Went to Cambridge to attend Eliza Wakefield, this day executed. Mr. Grady began with prayer. Mr. Appleton preached and prayed.” There is a printed sermon, preached by Dr. Andrew Eliot, on the Lords’ day before the execution of Levi Ames, who was hung for burglary Oct. 21, 1773. Ames was present, and the sermon was preached, by his particular request. The desire of distinction dies hard, even in the hearts of malefactors.
Dr. Andrew Eliot was a man of excellent sense, and disapproved of the practice, then in vogue, of lionizing burglars and murderers, of which, few, at the present day, I believe, have any just conception. For their edification I subjoin a portion of a manuscript note, in the hand writing of the late Dr. Ephraim Eliot, appended to the last page of the sermon, delivered by his father. “Levi Ames was a noted offender—though a young man, he had gone through all the routine of punishment; and there was now another indictment against him, where there was positive proof, in addition to his own confession. He was tried and condemned, for breaking into the house of Martin Bicker, in Dock Square. His condemnation excited extraordinary sympathy.He was every Sabbath carried through the streets withchains about his ankles and handcuffed, in custody of the Sheriff’s officers and constables, to some public meeting, attended by an innumerable company of boys, women and men.Nothing was talked of but Levi Ames. The ministers were successively employed in delivering occasional discourses. Stillman improved the opportunity several times, and absolutely persuaded the fellow, that he was to step from the cart into Heaven.”
It is quite surprising, that our fathers should have suffered this interesting burglar—“misguided” of course—to be hung by the neck, till he was dead. When an individual, as sanguine, as Dr. Stillman appears to have been, in regard to Levi Ames, remarked of a notorious burglar, a few days after his execution, that he had certainly beenborn again, an incredulous bystander observed, that he was sorry to hear it, for some dwelling-house or store would surely be broken open before morning.
We are sufficiently acquainted with the Catholic practice of roasting heretics—that of boiling thieves and other offenders is less generally known.Caldariis decoquere, to boil them in cauldrons, was a punishment, inflicted in the middle ages, on thieves, false coiners, and others. In 1532, seventeen persons, in the family of the Bishop of Rochester, were poisoned by Rouse, a cook; the offence was, in consequence, made treason, by 23 Henry VIII., punishable, by boiling to death. Margaret Davie was boiled to death, for the like crime, in 1541. Quite a number of Roman ladies, in the year 331 B. C., formed a poisoning society, or club; and adopted this quiet mode of divorcing themselves from their husbands: seventy of the sisterhood were denounced, by a slave, to the consul, Fabius Maximus, who ordered them to be executed. None of these ladies were boiled.
Boiling the dead has been very customary, after beheading or hanging, and drawing, and quartering, whenever the criminal was sentenced to be hung afterwards, in chains. Thus father Strype—“1554.—Sir Thomas Wyatt’s fatal day was come, being the 11th of April, when, between nine and ten of the clock, aforenoon, on Tower Hill, he was beheaded; and, by eleven ofthe clock, he was quartered on the scaffold, and his bowels and members burnt beside the scaffold; and, a car and basket being at hand, the four quarters and the head were put into the basket, and conveyed to Newgate, to be parboiled.” One more quotation from Strype—“1557.—May 28th, was Thomas Stafford beheaded on Tower Hill, by nine of the clock, Mr. Wode being his ghostly father; and, after, three more, viz., Stowel, Proctor, and Bradford were drawn from the Tower, through London, unto Tyburn, and there hanged and quartered: and, the morrow after, was Stafford quartered, and his quarters hanged on a car, and carried to Newgate to boil.”
How very ingenious we have been, since the days of Cain, in torturing one another! Boiling and roasting are not to be thought of. The Turkish bowstring will never be adopted here, nor the Chinese drop, nor their mode of capital punishment, in which the criminal, having been stripped naked, is so confined, that he can scarcely move a muscle, and, being smeared with honey, is exposed to myriads of insects, and thus left to perish. Crucifixion will never be popular in Massachusetts, though quite common among the Syrians, Egyptians, Persians, Africans, Greeks, Romans, and Jews. Starving to death, sawing in twain, and rending asunder, by strong horses, have all been tried, but are not much approved of, by the moderns. The rack may answer well enough, in Catholic countries, but, in this quarter, there is a strong prejudice against it. Exposure to wild beasts is objectionable, for two reasons; one of these reasons resembles the first of twenty-four, offered to the Queen of Hungary, for not ringing the bells upon her arrival,—there were no bells in the village—we have no wild beasts. The second reason is quite germain—man is savage enough, without any foreign assistance. Burying alive, though it has been employed, as a punishment, in other countries, is, literally, too much for flesh and blood; and, I am happy to say, there is not a sexton in this city, who would, knowingly, be a party to such a barbarous proceeding.
Death has been produced, by preventing sleep, as a mode of punishment. Impaling, and flaying alive, tearing to pieces with red hot pincers, casting headlong from high rocks, eviscerating the bowels, firing the criminals from the mouths of canons, and pressing them slowly to death, by weights, gradually increased, upon the breast, thepeine forte et dure, are very much out of fashion; though one and all have been frequently employed, inother times. There is a wheel of fashion, as well as a wheel of fortune, in the course of whose revolutions, some of these obsolete modes of capital punishment may come round again, like polygon porcelain, and antiquated chair-backs. Should our legislature think proper to revive the practice, in capital cases, of heading up the criminal in a barrel, filled with nails, driven inward, a sort of invertedcheval de frize, and rolling him down hill, I have often thought the more elevated corner of our Common would be an admirable spot for the commencement of the execution, were it not for interrupting the practice of coasting, during the winter; by which several innocent persons, in no way parties to the process, have been very nearly executed already.
Shooting is apt to be performed, in a bungling manner. Hanging by the heels, till the criminal is dead, is very objectionable, and requires too much time. The mode adopted here and in England, and also in some other countries, of hanging by the neck, is, in no respect agreeable, even if the operator be a skilful man; and, if not, it is highly offensive. The rope is sometimes too long, and the victim touches the ground—it is too frail, and breaks, and the odious act must be performed again—or the noose is unskilfully adjusted, the neck is not broken, and the struggles are terrible.
The sword, in a Turkish hand, performs the work well. It was used in France. Charles Henry Sanson, the hereditary executioner, on the third of March, 1792, presented a memorial to the Constituent Assembly, in which he objected to decollation, and stated that he had but two swords; that they became dull immediately; and were wholly insufficient, when there were many to be executed, at one time. Monsieur Sanson knew nothing then of that delightful instrument, which, not long afterward, became a mere plaything, in his hands.
Stoning to death and flaying alive have been employed, occasionally, since the days of Stephen and Bartholomew. The axe, so much in vogue, formerly, in England, was a ruffianly instrument, often mangling the victim, in a horrible manner.
After all, there is nothing like the guillotine; and, should it ever be thought expedient to erect one here, I should recommend, for a location, the knoll, near the fountain, on our Common, which would enable a very large concourse of men, women, and children, to witness the performances of both, at the same moment.
The very best account of the guillotine, that I have ever met with, is contained in the London Quarterly Review, vol. lxxiii. page 235. It is commonly supposed, that this instrument was invented by Dr. Guillotin, whose name it bears. It has been frequently asserted, that Dr. Guillotin was one of the earliest, who fell victims to its terrible agency. It has been still more generally believed, that this awfully efficient machine was conceived in sin and begotten in iniquity, or in other words, that its original contrivers were moved, by the spirit of cruelty. All these conjectures are unfounded.
The guillotine, before its employment, in France, was well known in England, under the name of the Halifax gibbet. A copy of a print, by John Doyle, bearing date 1650, and representing the instrument, may be found, in the work, to which I have, just now, referred. Pennant, in his Tour, vol. iii. page 365, affirms, that he saw one of the same kind, “in a room, under the Parliament house, at Edinburgh, where it was introduced by the Regent, Morton, who took a model of it, as he passed through Halifax, and, at length, suffered by it, himself.”
The writer in the London Quarterly, puts the question of invention at rest, by exhibiting, on page 258, a copy of an engraving, by Henry Aldgrave, bearing date 1553, representing the death of Titus Manlius, under the operation of “an instrument, identical with the guillotine.”
During the revolution, Dr. Guillotin was committed to prison, from which he was released, after a tedious confinement. He died in his bed, at Paris, an obscure and inoffensive, old man; deeply deploring, to the day of his decease, the association of his name, with this terrible instrument—an instrument, which he attempted to introduce, in good faith, and with a merciful design, but which had been employed by the devils incarnate of the revolution, for the purposes of reckless and indiscriminating carnage.
Dr. Guillotin was a weak, consequential, well-meaning man, willing to mount any hobby, that would lift him from the ground. He is described, in thePortraits des Personnes célebres, 1796, as a simple busybody, meddling with everything,à tort et à travers, and being both mischievous and ridiculous.
He had sundry benevolent visions, in regard to capital punishment, and the suppression,by legal enactment, of thesentimentof prejudice, against the families of persons, executed forcrime! Among the members of the faculty, in every large city, there are commonly two or three, at least, exhibiting striking points of resemblance to Dr. Guillotin. In urging the merits of this machine, upon merciful considerations, his integrity was unimpeachable. He considered hanging a barbarous and cruel punishment; and, by the zeal and simplicity of his arguments, produced, even upon so grave a topic, universal laughter, in the constituent assembly—having represented hanging, as a tedious and painful process, he exclaimed, “Now, with my machine,Je vous sauter le tête, I strike off your head, in the twinkling of an eye, and you never feel it.”
The Sansons, hereditary executioners, in Paris, were gentlemen. In 1684, Carlier, executioner of Paris, was dismissed. His successor was Charles Sanson a lieutenant in the army, born in Abbeville, in Picardy, and a relative of Nicholas Sanson, the celebrated geographer. Charles Sanson married the daughter of the executioner of Normandy, and hence a long line of illustrious executioners. Charles died in 1695; and was succeeded by his son Charles.
Charles Sanson, the second, was succeeded by his son, Charles John Baptiste, who died Aug. 4, 1778, when his son Charles Henry was appointed in his place; and, in 1795, retired on a pension. By his hand, with the assistance of two of his brothers, the King, Louis XVI. was guillotined. This Charles Henry had two sons. His eldest, the heir-apparent to the guillotine, was killed, by a fall from the scaffold, while holding forth the head of a man, executed for the forgery of assignats. Henry, the younger son of Charles Henry, therefore became his successor, at the time of his retirement, in 1795. To fill this office, he gave up his military rank, as captain of artillery. He died Aug. 18, 1840. He was an elector, and had a taste for music and literature. He was succeeded by his son, Henry Clement, Dec. 1, 1840. These particulars will be found on page 27 ofRecherches Historiques et Physiologiques, sur la Guillotine, &c., par M. Louis du Bois. Paris, 1843. Monsieur du Bois informsus, that all these Sansons were very worthy men, and that the present official possesses a fine figure, features stamped with nobility, and an expression sweet and attractive. How very little all this quadrates with our popular impressions of the common hangman!
The objection to the guillotine, which was called, for a time,Louison, after M. Louis, Secretary of the College of Surgeons, that it would make men familiar with the sight of blood, was urged by the Abbé Maury, and afterwards, by A. M. La Cheze. The Duke de Liancourt, inclined tomercy, that is, to the employment of the guillotine. He contended, that it was necessary to efface all recollections of hanging, which, he gravely remarked, had recently been soirregularly applied, referring to the summary process of lynching, as we term it—à la lanterne.
It is curious to note the doubt and apprehension, which existed, as to the result of the first experiment of decollation. March 3, 1792, the minister, Duport du Tertre, writes thus to the Legislative Assembly—“It appears, by the communications, made to me, by the executioners themselves, that, without some precautions, the act of decollation will be horrible to the spectators. It will either prove them to be monsters, if they are able to bear such a spectacle; or the executioner, himself, alarmed, will fall before the wrath of the people.”
The matter being referred to Louis, then Secretary of the Academy of Surgeons, he made his report, March 7, 1792. The new law required, that the criminal should be decapitated—aura la tête tranchée; and that the punishment should be inflictedwithout torture. Louis shows how difficult the execution of such a law must be—“We should recollect,” says he, “the occurrences at M. de Lally’s execution. He was upon his knees, with his eyes covered—the executioner struck him, on the back of his neck—the blow was insufficient. He fell upon his face, and three or four cuts of the sabre severed the head. Suchhacherieexcited a feeling of horror.” To such a polite and gentle nation, this must have been highly offensive.
April 25, 1798. Rœderer, Procureur Genéral, wrote a letter to Lafayette, telling him, that a public trial of the new instrument would take place, that day, in thePlace de Grève, and would, doubtless, draw a great crowd, and begging him not to withdraw the gens d’armes, till the apparatus had been removed. In the Courrier Extraordinaire, of April 27, 1792, is the following notice—“They made yesterday (meaning the 25th) the firsttrial of thelittle Louison, and cut off a head, one Pelletier. I never in my life could bear to see a man hanged; but I own I feel a greater aversion to this species of execution. The preparations make me shudder, and increase the moral suffering. The people seemed to wish, that M. Sanson had his old gallows.”
After theLouison, or guillotine, had been in operation rather more than a year, the following interesting letter was sent, by the Procureur Genéral, Rœderer, to citizen Guideu. “13 May, 1793. I enclose, citizen, the copy of a letter from citizen Chaumette, solicitor to the commune of Paris, by which you will perceive, that complaints are made, that, after these public executions, the blood of the criminals remains in pools, upon thePlace de Grève, that dogs came to drink it, and that crowds of men feed their eyes with this spectacle, which naturally instigates their hearts to ferocity and blood. I request you therefore to take the earliest and most convenient opportunity, to remove from the eyes of men a sight so afflicting to humanity.”
Voltaire, who thought very gravely, before he delivered the sentiment to the world, has stated of his countrymen, that they were a mixture of the monkey and the tiger. Undoubtedly he knew. In the revolution of 1793, and in every other, that has occurred in France—those excepted which may have taken place, since the arrival of the last steamer—the tiger has had the upper hand. Prudhomme, the prince of pamphleteers, having published fifteen hundred, on political subjects, and author of the General History of the crimes, committed, during the revolution, writing of the execution of Louis XVI. remarks—“Some individuals steeped their handkerchiefs in his blood. A number of armed volunteers crowded also to dip in the blood of the despot their pikes, their bayonets, and their sabres. Several officers of the Marseillais battalion, and others, dipped the covers of letters in this impure blood, and carried them, on the points of their swords, at the head of their companies, exclaiming ‘this is the blood of a tyrant.’ One citizen got up to the guillotine itself, and plunging his whole arm into the blood of Capet, of which a great quantity remained; he took up handsful of the clotted gore, and sprinkled it over the crowd below, which pressed round the scaffold, each anxious to receive a drop on his forehead. ‘Friends,’ said this citizen in sprinkling them, ‘we were threatened, that the blood of Louis should be on our heads, and so you see it is.’” Rev. de Paris, No. 185, p. 205.
Upon the earnest request of the inhabitants of several streets, through which the gangs of criminals were carried, the guillotine was removed, June 8, 1794, from thePlace de la Revolutionto thePlace St. Antoine, in front of the ruins of the Bastile; where it remained five days only, during which time, it took off ninety-six heads. The proximity of this terrible revolutionary plaything annoyed the shopkeepers. The purchasers of finery were too forcibly reminded of the uncertainty of life, and the brief occasion they might have, for all such things, especially for neckerchiefs and collars. Once again then, the guillotine, after five days’ labor, was removed; and took its station still farther off, at theBarrière du Trône. There it stood, from June 9 till the overthrow of Robespierre, July 27, 1794: and, during those forty-nine days, twelve hundred and seventy heads dropped into its voracious basket. July 28, it was returned to thePlace de la Revolution.
Sanson, Charles Henry, the executioner of Louis XVI. had not a littlebonhomiein his composition—his infernal profession seems not to have completely ossified his heart. He reminds me, not a little, of Sir Thomas Erpingham, who, George Colman, the younger, says, carried on his wars, in France, in a benevolent spirit, and went about, I suppose, like dear, old General Taylor, in Mexico, “pitying and killing.” On the day, when Robespierre fell, forty-nine victims were ascending the carts, to proceed to the guillotine, about three in the afternoon. Sanson, at the moment, met that incomparable bloodhound, theAccusateur Public, Fouquier de Tinville, going to dinner. Sanson suggested the propriety of delaying the execution, as a new order of things might cause the lives of the condemned to be spared. Fouquier briefly replied, “the law must take its course;” and went to dine—the forty-nine to die; and, shortly after, their fate was his.
The guillotine, viewed as an instrument of justice, in cases of execution, for capital offences, is certainly a most merciful contrivance, liable, undoubtedly, during a period of intense excitement, to be converted into a terrible toy.
During the reign of terror, matters of extreme insignificancy, brought men, women, and children to the guillotine. The record is, occasionally, awfully ridiculous. A few examples may suffice—Jean Julian, wagoner, sentenced to twelve years’ imprisonment, took it into his head, on the way—s’avisa—tocry—Vive le Roi; executed September, 1792.—Jean Baptiste Henry sawed a tree of liberty; executed Sept. 6, 1793.—M. Baulny, ex-noble, assisted his son to emigrate; executed Jan. 31, 1794.—La veuve Marbeufhopedthe Austrians would come; executed Feb. 5, 1794.—Francis Bertrand, publican, sold sour wine; executed May 15, 1793.—Marie Angelique Plaisant, sempstress, exclaimed—“a fig for the nation;” executed July 19, 1794.
An interesting, physiological question arose, in 1796, whether death, by decollation, under the guillotine, were instantaneous or not. Men of science and talent, and among them Dr. Sue, and a number of German physicians, maintained, that, in the brain, after decapitation, there was a certain degree—un reste—of thought, and, in the nerves, a measure of sensibility. An opposite opinion seems to have prevailed. The controversy, which was extremely interesting, acquired additional interest and activity, from an incident, which occurred, on the scaffold, immediately after the execution of Marie Anne Charlotte de Corday d’Armont—commonly known, under the imperishable name ofCharlotte Corday. A brute, François Le Gros, one of the assistant executioners, held up the beautiful and bleeding head, and slapped the cheek with his hand. A blush was instantly visible to the spectators. In connection with the physiological question, to which I have referred, a careful inquiry was instituted, and it was proved, very satisfactorily, that the color—the blush—appeared onbothcheeks, after the blow was given. Dr. Sue’s account of this matter runs thus—“The countenance of Charlotte Corday expressed the most unequivocal marks of indignation. Let us look back to the facts—the executioner held the head, suspended in one hand; the face was then pale, but had no sooner received the slap, which the sanguinary wretch inflicted, than both cheeks visibly reddened. Every spectator was struck, by the change of color, and with loud murmurs cried out for vengeance, on this cowardly and atrocious barbarity. It can not be said, that the redness was caused by the blow—for we all know, that no blows will recall anything like color to the cheeksof a corpse; besides this blow was given on one cheek, and the other equally reddened.”Sue; Opinion sur le supplice de la guillotine, p. 9.
Sir Thomas Browne, in his Religio Medici, remarked, that he had never known a religion, in which there were impossibilities enough to give full exercise to an active faith. This remark greatly delighted Sir Kenelm Digby, who was an ultra Catholic. The faith of Browne, in regard to things spiritual, was not an overmatch for his credulity, in regard to things temporal, which is the more remarkable, as he gave so much time to his Pseudodoxia, or exposition of vulgar errors? He was a believer in the existence of invisible beings, holding rank between men and angels—in apparitions; and affirmed,from his own knowledge, the certainty of witchcraft. Hutchinson, in his essay on witchcraft, repeats the testimony of Dr. Browne, in the case of Amy Duny and Rose Cullender, who were tried, before Sir Matthew Hale, in 1664; and executed, at St. Edmunds Bury, as witches. Sir Thomas stated in court, “that the fits were natural, but heightened, by the devil’s coöperating with the malice of the witches, at whose instance he did the villanies.” He added that “a great discovery had lately been made, in Denmark, of witches, who used the very same way of afflicting persons, by conveying pins into them.” Now it would be curious to know what Sir Thomas thought of the famous and apposite story of Sir Everard Digby, the father of Sir Kenelm, and if the faith of Sir Thomas were strong enough, to credit that extraordinary tale.
Charlotte Corday wasbeheaded, and Sir Everard Digby washanged. The difference must be borne in mind, while considering this interesting subject. Sir Everard, who was an amiable young man, was led astray, and executed Jan. 30, 1606, for the part he bore, in the gunpowder plot. Wood, in his “Athenæ Oxonienses,” vol. iii. p. 693, Lond. 1817, has the following passage—“Sir Everard Digby, father to Sir Kenelme, was a goodly gentleman, and the handsomest man of his time, but much pitied, for that it was his ill fate to suffer for the powder plot, in 1605, aged 24, at which time, when the executioner pluck’d out the heart, when the body was to be quartered, and, according to the manner, held it up, saying,here is the heart of a traytor, Sir Everard made answer,thou liest. This a most famous author mentions, but tells us not his name, in hisHistoria Vitæ etMortis.” This most famous author is Lord Bacon—Hist. Vit. et Mort., vol. viii. p. 446, Lond. 1824. The passage is so curious, that I give it entire—“Anguillæ, serpentes et insecta diu moventur singulis partibus, post concisionem. Etiam aves, capitibus avulsis, ad tempus subsultant: quin et corda animalium avulsa diu palpitant. Equidem meminimus ipsi vidisse hominis cor, qui evisceratus erat (supplicii genere apud nos versus proditores recepto) quod in ignem, de more, injectum, saltabat in altum, primo ad sesquipedem, et deinde gradatim ad minus; durante spatio (ut meminimus) septem aut octo minutarum. Etiam vetus et fide digna traditio est, de bove sub evisceratione mugiente. At magis certa de homine, qui co supplicii genere (quod diximus) evisceratus, postquam cor avulsum penitus esset, et in carnificis manu, tria aut quatuor verba precum auditus est proferre”—which may be Englished thus—Snakes, serpents, and insects move, a long time, after they have been cut into parts. Birds also hop about, for a time, after their heads have been wrung off. Even the hearts of animals, after they have been torn out, continue long to palpitate. Indeed, we ourselves remember to have seen the heart of a man, who had been drawn, or eviscerated, in that kind of punishment, which we employ against traitors, and which, when cast upon the fire, according to custom, leapt on high, at first, a foot and a half, and gradually less and less, during the space, if we justly remember, of seven or eight minutes. There is also an ancient tradition, well entitled to credit, of a cow, that bellowed, under the process of evisceration. And more certain is the story of the man, who was eviscerated, according to the mode of punishment we have referred to, who, when his heart was actually torn out, and in the hands of the executioner, was heard to utter three or four words of imprecation. Sir Everard was executed, as I have stated, in 1605. Lord Bacon was born Jan. 22, 1561, and died April 9, 1626, twenty-one years only after Digby’s execution, and at the age of 65. Lord Bacon was therefore 44 years old, when Digby’s execution took place, which fact has some bearing upon the authenticity of this extraordinary story. Lord Bacon speaks confidently of the fact; and his suppression of the name was very natural, as the family of Sir Everard were then upon the stage.
A writer in the London Quarterly Review remarks, in a note on page 274, vol. 73, comparing the case of Charlotte Cordaywith that of Sir Everard Digby—“This” (Sir Everard’s) “was a case ofevisceration, and not ofdecapitation, which makes the whole difference, as to the credibility of the story.”
Chalmers relates the anecdote, and refers to Wood’s Athenæ, and Lord Bacon’s Historia Vitæ et Mortis, but speaks of the tale, as “a story, which will scarcely now obtain belief.” In the Harleian Miscellany, vol. iii. page 5, Lond. 1809, there is an account of the discovery of the gunpowder plot, imprinted at London, by Robert Barker, 1605. On page 47, a very brief cotemporaneous account is given of Digby’s execution, in St. Paul’s churchyard, which contains no allusion whatever to the circumstance, stated by Wood, and so very confidently, by Lord Bacon.
I suppose few will really believe, that any man’s conversational abilities can be worth much, after his head is off, or his heart is out. From the expression of the Quarterly reviewer, it may be inferred, that he did not consider the story of Sir Everard Digby utterly impossible and incredible. For my own part, I am very much inclined to hand over this extraordinary legend to Judæus Appella. Every man, who has not, by long experience, like George Selwyn, acquired great self-possession, while enjoying an execution, inclines to the marvellous. Sir Everard, before the work of evisceration began, it must be remembered, had been hanged, the usual length of time; and the words—“thou liest”—are stated to have been uttered, at the moment, when the heart, having been plucked out, was held up by the executioner. It is more easy of belief, that some guttural noise, like that, spasmodically uttered by certain birds, after their heads have been chopped off, may have sounded to the gaping bystanders, who looked and listened,auribus arrectis, not very unlike the words in question. The belief, that Digby spoke these words, seems to be analogous to the belief, that, inhydrophobia, the sufferers bark like dogs, simply because, oppressed with phlegm, and nearly strangled, their terrific efforts, to clear the breathing passages, are accompanied with a variety of unintelligible, and horrible sounds.
There are some curious cases, on record, which may have something to do with our reasoning, upon this subject. A similar species of death, attended by spasms or convulsions, is said to have been produced, by the bite of other animals. Dr. Fothergill relates cases of death, from the bite of a cat. Thiermayerrecites two cases, both terminating fatally, from the bite of a goose, and a hen. Le Cat, Receuil Periodique, ii. page 90, presents a similar case, from the bite of a duck. But we are not informed, that, the patient, in either of these cases, during the spasms, mewed, quacked, cackled, or hissed; and yet there seems to be no rational apology for a patient’sbarking, simply because he has been bitten, by a cat, or a duck, a goose, or a hen.
Spasmodic or convulsive motion, in a human body, which has been hung, or shot, or eviscerated, is a very different thing, from an intelligent exercise of the will, over the organs of speech, producing the utterance even of a word or syllable.
In the cases of persons, who have been shot through the heart, violent spasmodic action is no unusual phenomenon. When I was a boy, the duel took place, between Rand and Millar, at Dorchester Point, then a locality as solitary, as Hoboken, or the Hebrides. The movements of the parties were observed, and their purposes readily surmised, by the officers, on Castle William; and a barge was immediately despatched, from the fort. Shots were exchanged, between the combatants, while the barge was passing over. Rand fell, wounded through the heart; and, after lying motionless, for a very brief space, was seen to leap into the air several feet, and fall again, upon the earth.