It were greatly to be desired, that every driver of brute animals, Guinea negroes, and hard bargains, since he will not be a Christian, should be a Pythagorean. The doctrine of the metempsychosis would, doubtless, instil a salutary terror into his mind; and soften the harshness of his character, by creating a dread of being, himself, spavined and wind-galled, through alleternity; or destined to suffer from the lash, which he has mercilessly laid upon the slave; or condemned to endure that hard measure, which he has meted, in this world, to the miserable debtor.
This opinion, which Pythagoras is said to have borrowed from the Egyptians, or, as some assert, from the Brachmans, makes the chief basis of religion, among the Banians and others, in India and China, at the present day; and is the cause of their great aversion to take the life of brute animals, and even insects. The accidental destruction of any living thing produces, with them, a feeling of sorrow, similar to that, experienced, as Mr. Catlin says, by an Indian, who unfortunately shot histotem, which, in that case, chanced to be a bear; that is, an animal of a certain race, one of which his guardian angel was supposed to inhabit.
Vague and fantastical, as have been the notions of a future state, in different nations, the idea of a condition of being, after death, has been very universal. Such was the conclusion from the reasonings of Plato. Such were the results “quæ Socrates supremo vitæ die de immortalitate animorum disseruisset.†Such was the faith of Cicero—“Sic mihi persuasi, sic sentio, quum tanta celeritas animorum sit, tanta memoria præteritorum, futurorumque prudentia, tot artes, tantæ scientiæ, tot inventa, non posse eam naturam, quæ res eas contineat, esse mortalem.†De Senec. 21.
Seneca was born a year before the Christian era. There is a remarkable passage, in his sixty-third letter, addressed to Lucilius. He is striving to comfort Lucilius, who had lost his friend Flaccus—“Cogitemus ergo Lucili carissime, cito nos eo perventuros quo illum pervenisse mÅ“remus. Et fortasse (si modo sapientium vera fama est, recipitque nos locus aliquis) quem putamus perisse, præmissus est:â€â€”Let us consider, my dear Lucilius, how soon we, ourselves, shall go whither he has gone, whose fate we deplore. And possibly (if the report of certain wise men be true, and there is indeed a place to receive us hereafter) he whom we consider as gone from usforever, has only gonebefore. Here is, indeed, a shadowy conception of a future state. The heathen and the Christian, the savage and the sage concur, in the feeling, or the faith, or the philosophy, whichever it may be, that, though flesh and blood, bone and muscle shall perish, the spirit shall not. An impression, like this, swells into conviction,from the very contemplation of its own instinctive and pervasive character.
The Egyptians believed, in the abiding presence of the spirit with the body, so long as the latter could be preserved; and therefore bestowed great pains, in its preservation. In the travels of Lewis and Clarke, the Echeloot Indians are reported to pay great regard to their dead; and Captain Clarke was of the opinion, that they were believers in a future state. They have common cemeteries; the bodies, carefully wrapped in skins, are laid on mats, in vaults made of pine or cedar, eight feet square; the sides are covered with strange figures, cut and painted, and images are attached. On tall poles, surmounting these structures, are suspended brass kettles, old frying-pans, shells, skins, baskets, pieces of cloth, and hair. Sometimes the body is laid in one canoe, and covered with another. It is not easy to conjecture what occasion these poor Echeloots supposed spirits could have, for frying-pans and brass kettles.
The faith of the inhabitants of Taheite is very peculiar. They believe, that the soul passes through no other purgatory, than the stomach of theEatooabird. They say of the dead, that they areharra po, gone to the night; and they believe, that the soul is instantly swallowed, by theEatooabird, and is purified by the process of deglutition; then it revives; becomes a superior being; never more to be liable to suffering. This soul is now raised to the rank of theEatooa, and may, itself, swallow souls, whenever an opportunity occurs; which, having passed through this gastric purgation, may, in their turn, do the very same thing. Vancouver was present, at the obsequies of the chief,Matooara. The priest gave a funeral sermon—“The trees yet live,†said he, “the plants flourish, yet Matooara dies!†It was a kind of expostulation withEatooa.
Baron Swedenborg’s notions of the soul’s condition, after death, are very original, and rather oriental. He believed, “that man eats, and drinks, and even enjoys conjugal delight, as in this world; that the resemblance between the two worlds is so great, that, in the spiritual world, there are cities with palaces and houses, and also writings and books, employments and merchandizes; that there are gold and silver, and precious stones there. There is, in the spiritual world, all and every thing that there is in the natural world; but that in Heaven, such things are in an infinitely more perfect state.†Trade, in Heaven, is conducted,doubtless, on those lofty principles, inculcated, by the late Dr. Chalmers, in his commercial discourses; counterfeiters and bank robbers, marriage squabbles and curtain lectures are unknown; and no angel lendeth upon usury. In this arrangement, there is a remarkable oversight; for, as death is dispensed with, our vocation is no better, than Othello’s. The superior advantages of the Baron’s Heaven scarcely offer a fair compensation, for the suffering and inconvenience of removing, from our present tabernacles; and, for one, I should decidedly prefer to remain where I am, especially now that we have gotten the Cochituate water.
Such being the fashion of Swedenborg’s Heaven, it would be quite interesting, were he now among us, in the flesh, to have, under his own hand, a rough sketch of his Hell. As the former is a state, somewhat better, the latter must be a state somewhat worse, than our present condition. It would not be very difficult to give some little idea of Swedenborg’s Orcus, or place of punishment. We should have an eternal subtreasury, of course, with a tariff, more onerous, if possible, than that of 1846: the infernal banks would not discount, and money, on prime paper, would be three per cent. a month. Slavery would cover the earth; and the South would rage against the North and its interference, like the maniac, against his best friend, who strives to prevent him, from cutting his own throat, with his own razor.
Among the fancies, which have prevailed, in relation to the soul and its habits, none, perhaps, have been more remarkable, than the belief, in an actualexodus, or going forth, of the soul from the body, during life, on excursions of business or pleasure. This may be placed in the category of sick men’s dreams; and probably is nothing else than that mighty conjuration of the mind, especially the mind of an invalid; of whose power no man had greater experience than Emanuel Swedenborg. The inhabitants of some of the Polynesian islands believe, that the spirits of their ancestors become divinities, orTees. They believe the soul walks abroad, in dreams, under the charge of itsTee, or tutelary angel.
Mydo, a boy, was brought from Taheite, by an English whaler, and died, kindly cared for, by the Moravians. One morning, he spoke to these friends, as follows:—“You told me my soul could not die, and I have been thinking about it. Last night my body lay on that bed, but I knew nothing of it, for mysoul was very far off. My soul was in Taheite. I am sure I saw my mother and my friends, and I saw the trees and dwellings, as I left them. I spoke to the people, and they spoke to me; and yet my body was lying still in this room, all the while. In the morning, I was come again into my body, and was at Mirfield, and Taheite was a great many miles off. Now I understand what you say about my body being put into the earth, and my soul being somewhere else; and I wish to know where it will be, when it can no more return to my body.†Such were the humble conceptions of the dying Taheitean boy—let the reader decide for himself what more there may be, under the grandiloquence of Addison—
————Plato, thou reasonest well.Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,This longing after immortality?Or whence this secret dread and inward horrorOf falling into naught? Why shrinks the soulBack on herself, and startles at destruction!’Tis the divinity, that stirs within us;’Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,And intimates eternity to man.
The ashes of the dead are ransacked, not only for hidden treasure, and for interesting relics, but there is a figurative species of raking and scratching, among them, in quest of one’s ancestors. This is, too frequently, a periculous experiment; for the searcher sometimes finds his progress—the pleasure of his employment, at least—rudely interrupted, by an offensive stump, which proves to be the relic of the whipping-post, or the gallows.
Neither the party himself, nor the world, trouble their heads, about a man’s ancestors, until he has distinguished himself, in some degree, or fancies that he has; for, while he is nobody, they are clearly nobody’s ancestors. In Note A, upon the articleTouchet, vol. ix., fol. ed., Lond., 1739, Bayle remarks—“It is very common to fall into two extremes, with regard to those, whom Providence raises greatly above their former condition: some, by fabulous genealogies, procure them ancestors of thefirst quality; others reduce them to a rank, much below the true one.†This remark was amply illustrated, in the case of Napoleon Bonaparte: while some there were, who thought they could make out a clear descent from the prince of darkness, others were ready to accommodate him with the most illustrious ancestry. The Emperor of Austria had a fancy, for tracing Napoleon’s descent, from one of the petty sovereigns of Treviso; and a genealogist made a merit of proving him to be a descendant, from an ancient line of Gothic princes; to all this Napoleon sensibly replied, that he dated his patent of nobility, from the battle of Monte Notte. Cicero was of the same way of thinking, and prided himself, on beingnovus homo. Among thefragmenta, ascribed to him, there is a declamation against Sallust, published by Lemaire, in his edition of the Classics, though he believes it not to be Cicero’s; in which, sec. ii., are these words—Ego meis majoribus virtute mea præluxi; ut, si prius noti non fuerint, a me accipiant initium memoriæ suæ—By my virtue, I have shown forth before my ancestors; so, that if they were unknown before, they will receive the commencement of their notoriety from me. “I am no herald,†said Sydney, “to inquire of men’s pedigrees: it sufficeth for me if I know their virtues.â€
This setting up for ancestors, among those, who, from the very nature of our institutions, are, and ever must be, a middling interest people, is as harmless, as it is sometimes ridiculous, and no more need be said of its inoffensiveness.
From the very nature of the case, there can be no lack of ancestors. The simplest arithmetic will show, that the humblest citizen has more thanone million of grand parents, within the twentieth degree; and it is calculated, in works on consanguinity, that, within the fifteenth degree, every man has nearlytwo hundred and seventy millions of kindred. There is no lack, therefore, of the raw material, for this light work; unless, in a case, like that of the little vagrant, who replied to the magistrate’s inquiry, as to his parents, that he never had any, butwas washed ashore. The process is very simple. Take the name of Smith, for example: set down all of that name, who have graduated at the English, American, and German colleges, for Schmidt is the same thing—then enrol all of that name, upon the habitable earth, who have, in any way, distinguished themselves; carefully avoiding the records of criminalcourts, and such publications as Caulfield’s Memoirs, the State Trials, and the Newgate Calendar. Such may be called the genealogy of the Smiths; and every man of that name, while contemplating the list of worthies, will find himself declaring a dividend,per capita, of all that was good, and great, and honorable, in the collection; and he will arise, from the perusal, a more complacent, if not a better man.
This species of literature is certainly coming into vogue. I have lately seen, in this city, a large duodecimo volume, recently printed, in which the genealogy of a worthy family, among us, is traced, through Oliver Cromwell, to Æneas, not Æneas Silvius, who flourished in the early part of the fifteenth century, and became Pope Pius II., but to Æneas, the King of the Latins. This royal descent is not through the second marriage with Lavinia; nor through the accidental relation, between Æneas and Dido—
Speluncam Dido dux et Trojanus eandemDeveniunt—————;
but through the first marriage with the unfortunate Creusa, who was burnt to death, in the great Troy fire, which took place, according to the Parian Marbles, on the 23d of the month, Thargelion, i. e., 11th of June, 1184 years before Christ. Ascanius was certainly therefore the ancestor of this worthy family, the son of Æneas and Creusa; and the grandson of Anchises and Venus. Such a pedigree may satisfy a Welchman.
I am forcibly reminded, by all this, of a very pleasant story, recounted by Horace Walpole, in a letter to Horace Mann: I refer to Letter CCV. in Lord Dover’s edition. In 1749, when Mirepoix was ambassador in England, there was a Monsieur de Levi, in his suite. This man was proud of his Jewish name, and really appeared to set no bounds to his genealogicalgout. They considered the Virgin Mary a cousin of their house, and had a painting, in which she is represented, as saying to Monsieur Levi’s ancestor, who takes off his hat in her presence—“Couvrez vous, mon cousin:†to which he replies—“Non pas, ma très sainte cousine, je scai trop bien le respect que je vous dois.†The editor, Lord Dover, says, in a note, that there is said to have been another ridiculous picture, in that family, in which Noah is represented, going into the ark, carrying asmall trunk under his arm, on which is written—“Papiers de la maison de Levis.â€
Very few persons are calculated for the task of tracing genealogies; patience and discrimination should be united with a certain slowness of belief, and wariness of imposition. Two of a feather do not more readily consociate, than two of a name, and of the genealogical fancy, contrive to strike up a relationship. There are also greater obstacles in the way, than a want of the requisite talents, temper, and attainments:—“Alterations of sirnames,†says Camden, “which, in former ages, have been very common, have so obscured the truth of our pedigrees, that it will be no little labor to deduce many of them.†For myself, a plain, old-fashioned sexton, as I am, I am much better satisfied, with the simple and intelligible assurance of my Bible, that I am a child of Adam, than I could possibly be, with any genealogical proofs, that Anchises and Venus were my ancestors. However, there is no such thing as accounting for taste; and it is not unpleasant, I admit, to those of us, who still cherish some of our early, classical attachments, to know, that the blood of that ancient family is still preserved among us.
No man is more inclined than I am, to perpetuate a sentiment of profound respect for the memory of worthy ancestors. Let us extract, from the contemplation of their virtues, a profitable stimulus, to prevent us from being weary in well-doing. By the laws of Confucius, a part of the duty, which children owed to their parents, consisted in worshipping them, when dead. I am inclined to believe, that this filial worship or reverence may be well bestowed, in the ascending line, on all, who have deserved it, and who are,bona fide, our grandfathers and grandmothers. It seems to me quite proper and convenient, to have a well-authenticated catalogue or list of one’s ancestors, as far back as possible; but let us exercise a sound discretion in this matter; and not run into absurdity. I am ready and willing to obey the laws of Confucius, as implicitly, as though I were a Chinaman, and reverence my ancestors; but I must, first, be well satisfied, as to their identity. I will never consent, because some professional genealogist has worked himself into a particular belief, to worship the man in the moon, for my great Proavus, nor Dido for my great, great grandmother.
Domestic arboriculture is certainly getting into fashion, and a family tree is becoming quite essential to the self-complacency, at least, of many well-regulated families. The roots are found to push freely, in the superficial soil of family pride. Generally, these trees, to render them sightly, require to be pruned with a free hand; and the proprietor, when the crooked branches are skilfully removed, and all the small and imperfect fruit put entirely out of sight, may behold it, with heartfelt pleasure, and rejoice in the happy consciousness, that he is aSmink. If, however, these family matters, instead of being preserved, for private amusement, are to be multiplied, by the press, there will, indeed, in the words of the wise man, be no end of making books.
Ancestors are relics, and nothing else. Whenever the demand for ancestors becomes brisk, and genealogy becomes aprofession—it becomes acraft. Laboureur, the historian, in hisAdditions de Castelnau, tom. ii. p. 559, affords a specimen of genealogical trust-worthiness. “In 1560, Renatus of Sanzay built, with John le Feron, king at arms of France, a genealogy of the house of Sanzay, made up of near fifty descents, most of them enumerated, year by year; with the names, sirnames, and coats of arms of the women; whilst all those names, families, and arms were mere phantoms; brother Stephen of Lusignan, out of this mighty tub, as from a public fountain, let flow the nobility and blood of Lusignan to all persons, who desired any of it.â€â€”Again, on page 320, Laboureur says—“They admitted, as true, all that was vented by certain false antiquaries and downright enthusiasts, such as John le Maire de Belges, Forcatel, a civilian, Stephen of Lusignan, and John le Feron, whom I will charge with nothing but credulity.†This, doubtless, is the stumbling block of most men, who engage in this semi-mythical employment.
Nothing is more easy, than to mistake one dead person, for another, when corruption has done its work, upon the form and features. There is something bituminous in time. What masculine mistakes are committed by experts! Those relics, which have been the object of hereditary veneration, for thirty centuries, as the virgin daughter of some great high priest in the days of Cheops and Cephrenes, may, by the assistance of the savans, with the aid of magnifiers of extraordinary power, be demonstrated to be the blackened carcass of Hum-Bug-Phi, theson of Hassan, the camel-driver; who kept a little khane or caravansera near Joseph’s granaries, in old Al Karirah, on the eastern banks of the Nile, famous—very—for the quality of its leeks and onions, three thousand years ago.
Thank Heaven, I am not a young widow, for two plain reasons; I do not wish to be young again—and I would not be a widow, if I could help it. A young widow, widder, or widdy, as the word is variously spelt, has been a byword, of odd import, ever since the days, when Sara, the daughter of Raguel, exclaimed, in the fifteenth verse of the third chapter of the book of Tobit—“My seven husbands are already dead, and why should I live?†All this tilting against the widows, with goose quills for spears, arises from the fact, that these weapons of war are mainly in the hands of one sex. Men are the scribblers—the lions are the painters. Nothing, in the chapters of political economy, is more remarkable, than the fact, that, since all creation was divided into parishes, there has never been a parish, in which there was not a Mr. Tompkins, who was the very thing for the widow Button. But the cutting out and fitting of these matters commonly belongs to that amiable sisterhood, who are ever happy, without orders, to make up, at short notice.
The result of my limited reading and observation has satisfied me entirely, that there is, and ever has been, a very great majority of bad husbands, over the bad wives, and of bewizzarded widowers, over the widows bewitched. When a poor, lone, young widow, for no reason under Heaven, but the desire to prove her respect, as Dr. Johnson says, for the state of matrimony, takes the initiative, every unmarried female, over thirty, longs to cut her ears off.
If there be sin or silliness, in the repetition of the matrimonial relation, or in strong indications of uneasiness, in the state of single blessedness, man is the offender in chief.
Quadrigamus, signifying a man who had been four times married, was a word, applicable of old. Henry VIII. had six wives, in succession. Let us summon a witness, from among the dead.Let us inquire, where is there a widow, maid, or wife, who would not be deemed a candidate for the old summary punishment of Skymmington, should she behave herself, as boldly, and outrageously, as John Milton behaved?
Milton, though he did not commence his matrimonial experiments, until he was thirty-five, married, in succession, Mary Powell, in 1643—Catherine Woodcock, in 1653—and Elizabeth Minshull, in 1662. Mary Powell, who was the daughter of a Cavalier, and accustomed to the gaiety of her father’s house, soon became weary of her solitary condition, with John Milton, who was, constitutionally, of a choleric and lordly temper. Contrasted with the loneliness, and slender appliances of her new home, the residence of her father, at Forest Hill, appeared to her, like paradise lost. So she went home, at the end of a month, ostensibly upon a visit; and, probably, gave no very flattering account of the honeymoon. Just about that period, the King’s forces had thrashed Fairfax, in the North, and taught Waller the true difference, between prose and poetry, in the West; and “the Powells,†says Dr. Symmons, “began to repent of their Republican connection.†Milton wrote to his wife to return. She neither came, nor responded. He next sent a messenger, who was treated with contempt. Thereupon Milton immediately proceeded to pay his suit to a very beautiful and accomplished young lady, the daughter of a Dr. Davis; and Dr. Symmons is evidently of opinion, that the lady and her family had no objections to the proceeding, which is fully exhibited, in Milton’s Prose Works, vol. vii. p. 205, Lond., 1806.
Talk not of widows after this. Finding, even in those days of disorder, that no divorce,a vinculo, could be obtained, under existing laws, he wrote his celebrated works—The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, and the Judgment of Martin Bucer, concerning Divorce. In these works he sets forth his particular grievance, which the reader may easily comprehend, from one or two brief quotations—he speaks of a “mute and spiritless mate†and of “himself bound to an image of earth and phlegm.â€
After the fight of Naseby, the Powells appear to have thought better of it; and Madame Milton returned, made the amende, and was restored in full. What sort of composition Milton made with Miss Davis nobody has ever disclosed. Certain it is, that compasionate damsel and the works upon divorce were alllaid upon the same shelf. We are apt to find something of value, in a thing we have discarded, when we perceive, that it is capable of giving high satisfaction to another. This consideration may have influenced Mrs. Milton; and, very possibly, the desire of returning to the residence of Milton may have been secondary to that of jilting Miss Davis, which she was certainly entitled to do. I knew an old gentleman, who was always so much affected, in this manner, by the sight of his cast-off clothing, upon the persons of his servants, that nothing would content him, short of reclaimer.
Milton was ever Milton still—nihil tetigit quod non ornavit. Take a brief extract or two from his work on divorce:—“What therefore God hath joined let no man put asunder. But here the Christian prudence lies, to consider what God hath joined. Shall we say that God hath joined error, fraud, unfitness, wrath, contention, perpetual loneliness, perpetual discord? Whatever lust, or wine, or witchery, threat or enticement, avarice or ambition hath joined together, faithful or unfaithful, Christian with anti-Christian, hate with hate, or hate with love—shall we say this is God’s joining?â€â€”“But unfitness and contrariety frustrate and nullify forever, unless it be a rare chance, all the good and peace of wedded conversation; and leave nothing between them enjoyable, but a prone and savage necessity, not worth the name of marriage, unaccompanied with love.†Every word of all this was written with an eye to the object of his unlawful passion: but the legislature very justly considered the greatest good of the greatest possible number; and would not turn aside, to pass a bill, for the special relief of John Milton and Miss Davis.
Selden, in hisUxor Hebraica, has proved, that polygamy existed, not only among the Hebrews, but among all nations, and in all ages. Mark Anthony is mentioned, as the first, among the Romans, who took the liberty of having two wives. What a gathering there would have been, in the Forum, if the news had been spread, that Mrs. Mark Anthony had taken the liberty of having two husbands! Every body knows, that widows are occasionally burnt, in Hindostan, on the funeral pile with their husbands. Whoever heard of a widower being burnt or even scorched, on a similar occasion?
The Landgrave of Hesse, the most warlike of the Protestant leaders, caused a representation to be made to the theologians, thathe must have two wives, and that he would not be denied. A most rampant and outrageous protocol was prepared, and handed to Bucerus, for the ministers at Wittemberg. The substance of this was equally discreditable to the Landgrave, and insulting to Luther and the holy fathers. The Landgrave was no gentleman, for he told the theologians, that his lady got drunk, and was personally disagreeable to him. He calls God to witness, that, if they do not sanction his polygamy, he will do just what he likes, and the sin will be upon their heads. He particularly wishes information, on one point—why he is not as good as Abraham, Jacob, David, Lamech, and Solomon; and why he has not as good a right to have a spare wife or two, as they had. He asks for two only.
Luther was deeply troubled, and perplexed. The Reformation professed to bring back the world to the Scriptures, in which polygamy was expressly recognized. The Reformers held marriage to beres politica, and therefore subject to the law of the State. The matter became worse by delay. The Landgrave was filled with fury, and the theologians with fear. At last, poor Luther and the rest signed a paper, concluding with these memorable words—“If however your highness is utterly determined upon marrying a second wife, we are of opinion, that it ought to be done secretly. Signed and sealed at Wittemberg, after the feast of St. Nicholas, in the year 1539. Martin Luther, Philip Melancthon, Martin Bucer, Antony Corvin, Adam John Lening, Justin Wintfert, Dyonisius Melanther.â€
The detail of all this may be found, in Hazlitt’s translation of Michelet’s Life of Luther, page 251, Lond. 1846. Bayle, article Luther, observes, that the theologians would have promptly refused to sanction such a thing, had the request come from any private gentleman—or, permit me to add, if it had come from the lady of the Landgrave, for a brace of husbands.
It is my opinion, that great injustice is done to widows. The opinion of St. Jerome, who never was a widow, and knew nothing about it, that they should never marry again, is perfectly absurd; for there are some men, whose constitutional timidity would close the matrimonial highway forever, were it not for that peculiar species of encouragement, which none but widows can ever administer. For my own part, I would have a widow speak out, and spare not; for I am very fearful, that the opposite course is productive of great moral mischief, and tendsto perpetuate a system of terrible hypocrisy. But let a sound discretion be exercised. I disapprove altogether of conditional engagements, madedurante vita mariti.
Jonny Moorhead was a man of a kind heart and a pleasant fancy. He came hither from Belfast, in 1727. He became pastor of the Presbyterian Church in Long Lane, in 1730.—Tempora mutantur—Long Lane, and Jonny Moorhead, and the little, old, visible temple, and Presbyterianism itself, are like Rachel’s first born—they are not. But in 1744, the good people built a new church, for Jonny Moorhead; in due time, Long Lane became Federal Street; and, Jonny’s church bore the bell, which had rung so many peals, and the gilded tell-tale, which, for so many years, had done obeisance to all the winds of Heaven, upon theoldBrattle Street Church. These, upon the demolition of that church, in 1774, were the gift of John Hancock. Jonny Moorhead had little comfort from that bell, for he died December 3, 1774, and could he have lived to see that Presbyterian weathercock go round, in after-times, it would have broken the tough, old strings of Jonny Moorhead’s Irish heart.
About one hundred years ago, Jonny Moorhead, upon a drowsy summer afternoon, gave out the one hundred and eighty-seventh psalm—the chief minstrel, with infinite embarrassment, suggested, that there were not so many in theBook—and tradition tells us, that Jonny replied—“Weel, then, sing as mony as there be.â€
My recollection of this anecdote of Jonny Moorhead will be painfully revived, when I send forth the one hundredth number of these dealings with the dead. They have been prepared like patch-work, from such fragments, as my common-place book supplied, and at such broken hours of more than ordinary loneliness, as might otherwise have been snoozed, unconsciously away. I had cast all that I had written into a particular drawer; and great was my surprise, to find, that the hundredth was the last, and that, with that number, I shall have sung—“as mony as there be.â€
One hundred—thought I—is an even number—few individuals care to survive one hundred. When these dealings with the dead had reached the number of four-score, I had serious misgivings, that theirstrength, to my weary reader, might prove nothing better thanlabor and sorrow; notwithstanding the occasional tokens of approbation, from some exceedingly old-fashioned people, who were altogether behind the times.
Having attained thispoint d’appui, which appears well enough adapted for the long home of an old sexton, it occurred to me, that I could not possibly do a better thing, for myself, or a more acceptable thing for the public, than to gather up my tools, as snugly as possible, and quietly give up the ghost. But giving up the ghost, even in the sacristan sense of that awful phrase, is not particularly agreeable, after all. If I look upon each one of these hundred dealings, as a sepulchre of my own digging—I cannot deny, that the employment of my spade has been a particular solace to me. But there are other solaces—I know it—there are an hundred according to the exiled bard of Sulmo—
“——centum solatia curæEt rus, et comites, et via longa dabunt.â€
Other suggestions readily occur, and are as readily, discarded. Parents, occasionally, experiment upon the sensibility of their children, by fondly discoursing of the uncertainty of human existence, and mingling deep drawn sighs, with shadowy allusions to wills and codicils.
For three-and-thirty years, our veteran, maiden aunt, Jemima Wycherly, at the close of her annual visit, which seldom fell short of six weeks, in its duration, though it seemed much longer, took each of us by the hand, and, with many tears, commended us fervently to the protecting arm of an overruling Providence, and bade us an eternal farewell!
I have always contemplated the conduct of Charles V. in relation to the rehearsal of his funeral obsequies, as a piece of imperial foolery. “He ordered his tomb to be erected, in the chapel of the monastery. His domestics marched thither in funeral procession, with black tapers in their hands. He himself followed, in his shroud. He was laid in his coffin, with much solemnity. The service for the dead was chanted; and Charles joined in the prayers, which were offered for the rest of his soul, mingling his tears with those, which his attendants shed,as if they had been celebrating a real funeral. The ceremony closed, with sprinkling holy water on the coffin, in the usual form, and, all the assistants retiring, the doors of the chapel were shut. Then Charles rose out of the coffin, and withdrew to his apartment.†Such is the statement of Dr. Robertson.[1]
Notwithstanding this high authority, it is comforting, even at this late day, to believe, that a story, so discreditable to the memory of Charles, is without any substantial foundation. It has ever appeared remarkable, that Bayle should not have alluded to this curious anecdote. After bestowing the highest praise, on Richard Ford’s Hand Book, for Travellers in Spain, the London Quarterly Review[2]furnishes an extract from the work, in which, after giving a minute and interesting account of the convent of St. Yuste, the final retreat of Charles V., Mr. Ford says—“the story of his having had the funeral service said over himself, while alive, is untrue; no record, or tradition of the kind existed among the monks.â€
There is something, in these drafts uponposterity, to be accepted and paid, by thepresent generation, for the honor of the drawer, resembling the conduct of a man, who encroaches on his principal, or who anticipates his revenues.
There is, undoubtedly, a species of luxury in leave-taking. We have delighted, to contemplate the edifying history of that gray-headed old rat, who, weary of the world, and determined to spend the remnant of his days, in pious meditation, took a final and affectionate leave of all his relatives and friends, and retired to a quiet hole—in the recesses of a Cheshire cheese.
However gratified we may be, to witness the second, or third coming of an able, ardent, and ambitious politician, it is not in the gravest nature to restrain a smile, while we contrast that vehemence, which no time can temper—thatvis vivida vitæ—ready for all things, in the forum or the field—that unquenchable fire, brightly burning, beneath the frost of more than seventy winters—with those sad infirmities of ace—those silver hairs—that one foot in the grave—the necessity of turning from all sublunary things, and making way for Heaven, under the pale rays of life’s parting sun—those senatorial adieus—and long, last farewells—those solemn prayers and fervent hopes for thehappiness of his associates, whom he should meet no more, on this side of the eternal world—thoseesto perpetuasfor his country! How touching these things would be, but for their frequency! What more natural, or more excusable, having enjoyed the luxury of leave-taking, than a desire—after a reasonable interval—to repeat the process, which afforded so much pleasure, and inflicted so little pain!
As to my own comparatively humble relation to the public—parvis componere magna—I am of opinion, that I should gain nothing, by affecting to retire, or by pretending to be dead. As to the former, it may be as truly averred of sextons, as it was, by Mr. Jefferson, of office-holders—“few die and none resign;†and, in respect to the latter, I not only despise the idea of such an imposition upon the public, but have some little fear, that the affectation might be too suddenly followed, by the reality, as Dr. Robertson, rightly or wrongly, affirms it to have been, in the case of Charles the Fifth.
I am now fairly committed, for the first number, at least, of another hundred, but for nothing more. I pretend not to look deeper into futurity, than six feet, which is the depth of a well-made grave. When I shall have completed the second hundred, and commenced upon a third, I shall be well nigh ready to exclaim, in the words of Ovid—
“VixiAnnos bis centum: nunc tertia vivitur ætas.â€
A relation of liberty and equality is decidedly the best, for my reader and for me—I am not constrained to write, nor he to read—if he cannot lie cozily, in a grave of my digging—I do not propose to detain him there—to bury him alive. Dealing with the dead has not hardened my heart. I am a sexton of very considerable sensibility; and have, occasionally, mingled my tears with the earth, as I shovelled it in.
In less figurative phrase, it is my desire to write, for my amusement, till one of us, the reader or myself, gives in, or gives out, and criesenough. I have a perfect respect for the old proverb,de gustibus, and by no means anticipate the pleasure of pleasing every body—
Men’ moveat cimex Pantilius? aut cruciet, quodVellicet absentem Demetrius? aut quod ineptusFannius Hermogenis lædat conviva Tigelli?
There are some readers, for example, who seem to look upon a classical quotation, as a personal affront. I conceive this objection to be scarcely equitable, from those, whose hybrid English, it is quite as hard to bear.
There are mortals—offenders in some sort—whom it is difficult to please, like the culprit who criedhigherandlower, under the lash, till the Irish drummer’s patience was perfectly exhausted, and he exclaimed—“By Jasus, there’s no plasing ye, strike where I will.â€
The sayings of eminent men, in a dying hour, are eminently worthy of being gathered together—they are often illustrative of the characters of the dead, and impressive upon the hearts of the living. Not a few of these parting words are scattered, over the breadth and length of history, and might form a volume—aVade Mecum, for the patriot and the Christian—a casket of imperishable jewels.
As an example of those sayings, to which I refer, nothing can be more apposite, than that of the Chevalier Bayard, while dying upon the field of battle. “He received a wound,†says Robertson, “which he immediately perceived to be mortal, and being unable any longer to continue on horseback, he ordered one of his attendants to place him under a tree, with his face toward the enemy; then fixing his eyes on the guard of his sword, which he held up, instead of a cross, he addressed his prayers to God; and, in this posture, which became his character, both as a soldier and as a Christian, he calmly awaited the approach of death.†Bourbon, who led the foremost of the enemy’s troops, found him in this situation, and expressed regret and pity, at the sight. “Pity not me,†cried the high-spirited chevalier, “I die, as a man of honor ought, in the discharge of my duty; they indeed are objects of pity, who fight against their king, their country, and their oath.â€
How significant of the life of that great military phlebotomist, who, from the overthrow of the council of five hundred, in 1799, to his own in 1815, delighted in blood, and in war, were those wild, wandering words of the dying Napoleon—tete d’armee!
We have the last words of consciousness, that were uttered, by the younger Adams, when stricken by the hand of death in the capitol—the last of earth!We have also those of his venerable father, who expired, on the anniversary of that day, which he had so essentially contributed to render glorious, so long as the annals of our country shall continue to be preserved. On the morning of that day, the dying patriot, at the age of ninety-one, was awakened, by the customary pealing of bells, and the roar of artillery. Upon being asked, if he recognized the day, he replied—“it is the glorious Fourth—God bless the day—God bless you all.â€
On the ninth day of July, 1850, another patriot died, at his post, and in the service of his country, whose parting words will long remain, engraven at full length, upon the broad area of the whole American heart,—I am prepared—I have endeavored to do my duty!Here, in this comprehensive declaration of General Taylor, are embodied all, and more than all, contained in the long cherished words of the departing patriot—Esto perpetua!
“And you brave Cobham, to the latest breath,Shall feel your ruling passion, strong in death:Such in those moments, as in all the past;‘O save my country, Heaven!’ shall be your last.â€
The ninth day of July is, with the Swiss, the day of their National Independence. On that memorable day, in 1836, they fought, and won the great battle of Sempach, against Leopold, Duke of Austria, which victory established the liberties of Switzerland.
Upon the anniversary of that very day, just ninety-five years ago, Washington was signally preserved, from the sweeping and indiscriminate carnage of Indian warfare, for those high destinies, which he fulfilled so gloriously. The ninth day of July, 1755, was the day of General Braddock’s defeat—the battle, as it is sometimes called, of Fort du Quesne. Hereafter, it will be noted, as a day of gloom, in our national calendar. A great—good man has fallen—in a trying hour—in the very midst of his labors—a wiser, a worthier could not have fallen, at a moment of deeper need. From sea to sea—from the mountain tops to the valleys below—from the city and from the wilderness—from the rich man’s castle, and from the hunter’s cabin—from the silver-haired and from the light-hearted, what an acclaim—what aresponse, as the voice of one man—has already answered to that dying declaration—I am prepared—I have endeavored to do my duty!As an entire people, we know it—we feel it—and may God, in his infinite wisdom and goodness, enable us to profit, by a dispensation, so awfully solemn, and so terribly severe.
The spirit of this great, good man is now by the side of that sainted shade, which once animated the form of the immortal Washington. They are looking down upon the destinies of their country. Who is so dull of hearing, as not to catch the context of those dying words?I am prepared—I have endeavored to do my duty—and may my death cement that Union, which I so cheerfully devoted my life to preserve!
It is finished. The career of this good man has closed forever. Ingratitude and calumny to him are nothing now. After days and nights of restless agitation, he has obtained one long, last night of sweet repose, reserved for those, who dieprepared, and who have endeavored to do their duty. He has gone where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest. No summons to attend the agitating councils of the Cabinet shall disturb his profound repose—no sarcastic commentaries upon his honest policy, from the over-heated leaders of the Senate or the House, shall give him additional pain. Party malignity can no longer reach that ear. Even the hoary-headed, political Zoilus of the age can scarcely find a motive, base enough, among the recesses of an envenomed heart, for posthumous abuse. In view of this solemnizing event, the raving abolitionist and the Utopian non-resistant may be expected to hold their incomparably senseless tongues, at least till these obsequies be past.
If I do not greatly mistake, the death of General Harrison and the death of General Taylor, so very soon after entering upon the performance of their presidential duties, will not fail to present before the whole American people, for their learning, a first and a second lesson, so perfectly legible, that he, who runs, may read.
It perfectly comports with a respect, sincere and profound, for the memories of these excellent men, solemnly to inquire, if, upon certain well known and universally acknowledged principles, it would not be as wise, and even more wise, to select a statesman, whose conduct in the cabinet had made himpreëminently popular, and to place him, with a sword, in his unpractised hand, at the head of the armies of the Republic—than to place, in the Presidential chair, a great soldier, universally and deservedly popular, for his success in war—however strong his common sense—however inflexible his integrity—however pure and devoted his patriotism—unless he also possesses that skill, and knowledge of affairs, which never came to man, by intuition; and which cannot be acquired, but by the laborious training and experience of years? This is a solemn question, for the people; and it may well be put, irrespectively of the public weal, and with a reference, directly, to the happiness, and even to the continued existence, of those, who may be so unfortunate as to become the objects of the popular favor. Is there any doubt, that all the battles, in which General Taylor has ever been engaged, have occasioned less wear and tear of body and mind, than have been produced, by the numberless trials and anxieties of the Presidential relation? It is a popular saying, and, perhaps, not altogether unworthy of general acceptation, that both General Harrison and General Taylor werekilled, not by kindness, but by care.
It may readily be supposed, that a gallant soldier would rather encounter the brunt of a battle, than such torrents of filth, as have been poured, professionally, upon the chief magistrate of the nation, from week to week, by the great scavenger, and his auxiliaries, at Washington. All this would have been borne, with comparative indifference, by a practised statesman, whose training had been among the contests of the forum, and whose moral cutis had been thickened, by time and exposure.
To appear, and to be, all that a chief magistrate ought to appear, and to be, in the centre of his cabinet, what a mass of information, on a great variety of subjects—what tact, amid the details of the cabinet—must be required, which very few gentlemen, who have devoted themselves to the military profession, can be supposed to possess! If knowledge is power, ignorance is weakness; and the consciousness of that weakness produces a condition of suffering and anxiety. Instead of coming to the great work of government, with the necessary stock of knowledge, training, and experience—how incompetent is he, who comes to that work, like an actor, who is learning his part, during the progress of the play.
The crude, iron ore is quite as well adapted to the purposesof the smith, or the cutler, without any subjection to the preparatory processes of metallurgy, as talent and virtue, however consummate, without preparatory training, and appropriate study, for the great and complicated work of government.
Too much confidence is apt to be reposed, upon the idea, that the President will be sustained, by his cabinet; and that any deficiencies, in him, will be compensated, by their wisdom and experience. The President is an important, component part of the acting government. He is not, like the august Personage, at the head of the government of England, who can do no wrong; and whose chief employment is the breeding of royal babies, and the occasional reading of a little speech. He can do a great deal of wrong, and must do a great deal of work; and, when he differs from his cabinet, the more need he feels of practical and applicable wisdom and knowledge; and, the more upright and conscientious he is, the more miserable he becomes, under an oppressive sense of his incapacity.
General Taylor will long be remembered, by the people of the United States, with profound and affectionate respect. His amiable and excellent qualities are embalmed in their hearts. He fought the battles of his country, with consummate skill and bravery. He led their armies, in many battles—and never, but to victory!
A grateful people, in the fulness of their hearts, and amid the blindness of popular enthusiasm, and with the purest purposes, and with sentiments of patriotic devotion, rewarded their gallant soldier, by placing upon his brows,A GILDED CROWN OF THORNS!
The form of a Chinese tomb, says Mr. Davis, in his “Description of the Empire of China,†whether large or small, is exactly that of the GreekomegaΩ. Their mourning color is white. Their cemeteries are upon the hills. No interments are permitted in cities. No corpse is suffered to be carried, through any walled town, which may lie in its way to the place of interment.
The tombs of the rich, says M. Grosier, are shaped like ahorse shoe, which, when well made, might pass for a very respectable Ω. Almost immediately after death, says the latter writer, the corpse is arrayed in its best attire. A son will sell himself, as a slave, to purchase a coffin, for his father. The coffin, upon which no cost is spared, remains, frequently, for years, the most showy article of the expectant’s furniture. The body lies in state, and is visited by all comers, for seven days. The hall of ceremony is hung with white, interspersed with black or violet colored silk. Flowers, perfumes, and wax lights abound. Those, who enter, salute the dead, as if he were alive, and knock their heads, three times, upon the ground. Upon this, the sons of the defunct creep forth, on their hands and knees, from behind a curtain, and, having returned the salutation, retire in the same manner.
A Chinese hearse is a very elegant affair; it is covered with a dome-shaped canopy of violet-colored silk, with tufts of white, neatly embroidered, and surmounted with net work. In this the coffin reposes; and the whole is borne, by sixty-four men.
Mourning continues for three years, during which the aggrieved abstain from flesh, wine, and all ordinary amusements.
As we have had recently, among us, some half a dozen visitors, male and female, from the Celestial Empire, I am strongly tempted to turn from the dead, to the living.
I have repeatedly attended the morning levees of MissPwan Yekoo, who was exhibited with her serving-maid,Lum Akum, Mr.Soo Chune, the musical professor, his son and daughter,Mun ChungandAmoon, and Mr.Aleet Mong, the interpreter. This was certainly a very interesting group; such as never before has been presented in this city, and will not be again, I presume, for many years.
Miss Yekoo is said to be seventeen, which appears to be her age. With the costume of the Chinese, which, in our eyes, is superlatively graceless, we have become sufficiently familiar, by the exhibition of the living males and the stuffed females, in our Chinese Museums. Of their music, we had an interesting specimen, a few years since. Being fortunately deaf, I can say nothing of the performances of MissYekooand ProfessorChune. Their features and complexions are Chinese, of course, and cannot be better described than in the words of Sir John Barrow, as applicable to the race: “The narrow, elongated, half-closed eye; the linear and highly-archedeyebrow; the broad root of the nose; the projection of the upper jaw a little beyond the lower; the thin, straggling beard, and the body generally free from hair; a high, conical head, and triangular face: and these are the peculiar characteristics which obtained for them, in theSystema Naturæof Linnæus, a place among the varieties of the species, distinguished by the name ofhomines monstrosi.â€
Apart from these and other considerations, it was well for all, who had it in their power, to avail themselves of an opportunity, which is not likely to be presented again, for years, and examine, with their own eyes, those “golden lilies,†for the production of which this little Chinese spinster, MissPwan Yeekoohas been severely tortured, from her cradle. She is neither very large, nor very small, for a girl of seventeen, and her feet are preciselytwo inches and a halfin length. A small female foot, as it came from the hand of the great Creator, has ever been accounted a great beauty, since Eve was born. But, to the eyes of all beholders, on this side of the Yellow Sea, no more disgusting objects were ever presented, than the horribly contracted and crippled deformities, upon the ends of Miss Yekoo’s little trotters.
The bare feet are not exhibited; but a model of the foot, two inches and a half in length, on which is a shoe, which is taken off, by the exhibitor, and put upon the real foot of Miss Yekoo, over a shoe, already there. This model is affirmed to be exact. As it is presented in front, the great toe nail alone is visible, forming a central apex, for the foot. On being turned up, the four smaller toes are seen, closely compacted, and inverted upon the sole. It is not possible to walk, with the weight of the body upon the inverted toes, without pain. Miss Yekoo, like all other Chinese girls, with these crippled feet, walks, with manifest uneasiness and awkwardness, upon her heels. Theos calcisreceives the whole weight of the body.
To sustain the statement, that Miss Yekoo is a “Chinese lady,†it is said, that these crippled feet are signs of aristocracy. Not infallible, I conceive:—not more so, than crippled ribs, occasioned by tight lacing, which may originate in the upper circles, but find hosts of imitators, among the lower orders. “We may add,†says Mr. Davis, writing of this practice, “that this odious custom extends lower down, in the scale of society, than might have been expected, from its disablingeffect, upon those, who have to labor for their subsistence. If the custom were first imposed, by the tyranny of the men, the women are fully revenged, in the diminution of their charms and domestic usefulness.â€
Mr. Davis evidently supposes, that the custom had its rise in jealousy, and a desire to prevent the ambulatory sex, from gadding about. Various causes have been assigned, for this disgusting practice. Sir John Barrow, after expressing his surprise, at the silence of Marco Polo, on the subject of crippled feet, which were, doubtless, common in his time, observes—“Of the origin of this unnatural custom, the Chinese relate twenty different accounts, all absurd. Europeans suppose it to have originated in the jealousy of the men, determined, says M. de Pauw, to keep them ‘si etroit qu’on ne peut comparer l’exactitude avec laquelle on les gouverne.’â€
Apractice, which, at its very birth, and during its infancy, required the assignment of some plausible reason, for its existence and support—when it grows up to be acustom, lives on and thrives, irrespectively of its origin, and, frequently, in spite of its absurdity. The blackened teeth of the Japanese—the goitres of the Swiss, in the valley of Chamouni—the flattened heads of certain Indian races—the crippled feet of the Chinese are illustrations of this truth, in the admiration which they still continue to receive. “Whatever,†says Sir John Barrow, “may have been the cause, the continuance may more easily be explained: as long as the men will marry none but such as have crippled feet, crippled feet must forever remain in fashion among Chinese ladies.â€
M. De Pauw, in his Philosophical Dissertations, alludes to this practice, in connection with that, formerly employed by the Egyptians, and which he calls—“the method of confining the women anciently, in Egypt, by depriving them, in some measure, of the use of their feet.â€
Plutarch, in hisPrecepta Connub, says, that shoes were entirely forbidden to women, by the Egyptians. “Afterwards,†says De Pauw, “they imagined it to be inconsistent with decency, that they should appear in public, with the feet naked, and, of course, they remained at home.â€
The Kalif, Hakin, who founded the religion of the Druses, re-enacted this law. De Pauw remarks, that the assertion of Plutarch might seem doubtful, if a decree, prohibiting the manufactureof shoes for women, under the pain of death, were not found, as it is, in theKitab-al-Machaid, or bible of the Druses.
Upon my first visit to Pwan Yekoo and hersuite, in connection with other visitors, I was not admitted for nearly two hours, after the appointed time. Ample sleeping arrangements had not been made, for these Celestials; and, for one night, at least, they had been packed, like a crate of China ware, in a closet, or small apartment, contiguous to the hall of exhibition. Yekoo was indignant, and refused to show her “golden lilies.†By dint of long importunity, she appeared, but in no gentle humor. Indeed, when Yekoo came forth, followed by Lum Akum, I was reminded, at a glance, of Cruikshank’s illustration of Mrs. Varden, followed by Meigs, with the Protestant manual. They soon recovered their better nature; and some little attention, paid by the visitors, to the Celestial pappooses, put them into tolerably good humor.
At the close of the exhibition, we were invited near the platform. It would be superfluous to describe the Chinese costume, so commonly presented, in various works. I was especially attracted by the hair of Yekoo, and Lum Akum, who passes for her waiting woman. I examined it with my glasses. It was jet black, coarse, abundant, and besmeared with a stiffening paste or gluten, which mightily resembled grease. Upon the top of the head a slender, round stick, about the size of a crow’s quill, is attached, projectingaft, in marine parlance, several inches, like a small ring tail boom. The design of this is to support the hair, which is thrown over it, and hangs, or is plastered, down with the shining paste, assuming the appearance, seena tergo, of a rudder.
The Chinese, in relation to the rest of mankind, are, certainly, a contrarious people. In 1833, Mr. Charles Majoribanks addressed a letter to the Right Hon. Charles Grant, in which he says:
“China may, in many respects, be said to stand alone, among the nations; not only differing, but, in many instances, diametrically opposed, in the nature of its laws, customs, and institutions. A Chinese, when he goes into mourning, puts on white; the left hand they consider the place of honor; they think it an act of unbecoming familiarity to uncover the head; their mariner’s compass, they assert, points to the South; the stomach theydeclare to be the seat of the understanding; and the chief God of their idolatry is the Devil.â€
Suicide is no crime, with the Chinese. To receive a present, with one hand, is deemed an act of rudeness. They never say of the departed, that he isdead, but that he hasgone to his ancestors. Among the good traits of the Chinese are to be numbered filial respect, and general sobriety. In one particular, their legislation may be considered superior to our own—among the grounds of divorce, says Mr. Davis, they include “excessive talkativeness.â€
I have been reared, in the faith, that the Chinese are not only apeculiar, but an exceedinglynastygeneration. According to Barrow, and to Du Halde, in hisHist. Gén. de la Chine, they are so liable to a species of leprosy, that, for the purpose of arresting its progress, it is numbered among the causes of divorce. The itch and other cutaneous diseases are extremely common. “They seem,†says De Pauw, “to have neither horror nor repugnance for any kind of food; they eat rats, bats, owls, storks, badgers, dogs,†&c. Brand, in hisReise nach China, observes—“Dogs are chiefly employed, as food, by the Chinese, during the great heat in summer, because they fancy their flesh to have a cooling quality.â€
Barrow was private secretary to the Earl of Macartnay, and, in 1804, published his travels in China, a work of great merit, and which has been highly lauded, for its candor and fidelity. In proof of my remark, I offer the following quotation, from that work, on pages 76 and 77. After alluding to the custom of crippling the feet, Mr. Barrow proceeds—“The interior wrappers of the ladies’ feet are said to be seldom changed, remaining sometimes, until they can no longer hold together; a custom that conveys no very favorable idea of Chinese cleanliness. This indeed forms no part of their character; on the contrary, they are what Swift would call afrowzypeople. The comfort of clean linen, or frequent change of under-garments, is equally unknown to the sovereign and the peasant. A sort of thin coarse silk supplies the place of cotton or linen next the skin, among the upper ranks; but the common people wear a coarse kind of open cotton cloth. These vestments are more rarely removed for the purpose of washing, than for that of being replaced with new ones; and the consequence of such neglect is, as might naturally be supposed, an abundant increase of those vermin, towhose growth filthiness is found to be most favorable. The highest officers of state made no hesitation of calling their attendants, in public, to seek in their necks, for those troublesome animals, which, when caught, they very composedly put between their teeth. They carry no pocket handkerchief, but generally blow their noses into small square pieces of paper, which some of their attendants have ready prepared for the purpose. Many are not so cleanly, but spit about the rooms, or against the walls, like the French, and they wipe their dirty hands, in the sleeves of their gowns. They sleep at night in the same clothes they wear by day. Their bodies are as seldom washed, as their articles of dress. They never make use of the bath, warm or cold. Notwithstanding the vast number of rivers and canals, with which every part of the country is intersected, I do not remember to have seen a single group of boys bathing. The men, in the hottest day of summer, make use of warm water, for washing the hands and face. They are unacquainted with the use of soap.â€
I do not disbelieve, that we, occasionally, meet men, who are very dirty, and remarkably orthodox, and, now and then, a well-washed and well-dressed villain—but sin and filth are too frequently found to form the very bond of iniquity. “Great crimes,†says Sir John Barrow, “are not common, but little vices pervade all ranks of society. A Chinese is cold, cunning, and distrustful; always ready to take advantage of those he has to deal with; extremely covetous and deceitful; quarrelsome, vindictive, but timid and dastardly. A Chinese in office is a strange compound of insolence and meanness. All ranks and conditions have a total disregard for truth. From the Emperor downwards, the most palpable falsehoods are proclaimed, with unblushing effrontery, to answer a political, an interested, or exculpatory purpose.â€
I beg leave respectfully to suggest to Miss Yekoo, to pay a little more attention to her teeth, and somewhat improve her personal appearance. The collections, upon their upper portions, are, by no means, necessary to prove her Tartar origin.