“Farewell, vain world, I’ve had enough of thee,And now am careless what thou say’st of me;Thy smiles I court not, nor thy frowns I fear,My cares are past, my heart lies easy here.What faults they find in me take care to shun,And look at home: enough is to be done.
“Farewell, vain world, I’ve had enough of thee,And now am careless what thou say’st of me;Thy smiles I court not, nor thy frowns I fear,My cares are past, my heart lies easy here.What faults they find in me take care to shun,And look at home: enough is to be done.
“Farewell, vain world, I’ve had enough of thee,And now am careless what thou say’st of me;Thy smiles I court not, nor thy frowns I fear,My cares are past, my heart lies easy here.What faults they find in me take care to shun,And look at home: enough is to be done.
“Farewell, vain world, I’ve had enough of thee,
And now am careless what thou say’st of me;
Thy smiles I court not, nor thy frowns I fear,
My cares are past, my heart lies easy here.
What faults they find in me take care to shun,
And look at home: enough is to be done.
Mr. Brower, a print-cutter, near Aldersgate-street, was attacked on the road to Enfield by a single highwayman, whom he recollected to be a tradesman in the city, and called him by his name. The robber immediately shot himself through the head.
The case of a man is recorded in a French paper who burnt with one of the strongest passions of which we ever heard an account. His mistress having proved unfaithful to him, he called up his servant, informed him that it was his intention to kill himself, and requested that, after his death, he would make a candle of his fat, and carry it lighted to his mistress. He then wrote a letter, in which he told her that as he had long burnt for her, she might now see that his flames were real; for the candle by which she would read the note was composed of part of his miserable body. After this he committed suicide.
Lieutenant Colonel Mautren, of the Prussian Hussars, having been stripped, at the gaming table, of all his property, even to his watch and the rings he wore, returned home. Next day he disposed of his commission; and having offered marriage to a respectable female whom he had seduced, a clergyman was sent for, and the ceremony performed. He then retired to a private room, and while some friends were felicitating the bride on her good fortune, the report of a pistol announced the catastrophe that had taken place. Thecompany hastened to the room; but the Colonel was no more. On the table was a letter to his wife, mentioning the cause of his death and inclosing the amount of the sale of his commission.
The particulars of the following case were read by M. Gerard de Gray, at theSociété de Médecine. A young man, having spent in the capital all his finances, returned home to recruit his purse; but failing in his object, he resolved to put an end to himself. He made no secret of his determination. On the 16th of August he carried it into execution. His bed-room was about nine feet square, and a little more than six in height. On every aperture in it by which the air might possibly have admittance, he pasted paper, and about five in the afternoon lighted a brazier of coals, which he set on the floor close by his bed. He then left the apartment, carefully closing the door after him. At six, he said to an old lady, “My brazier is now ready—I go to die.” On the following morning, the family having become alarmed, the door of the chamber was forced open. An insupportable vapour issued from the place, and the body of the unfortunate youth was found stretched across the bed. On the floor, the brazier still occupied the place already mentioned; it was of considerable capacity, and seemed to have been lighted with paper. Near the body were placed two volumes of an old Encyclopædia; one of them at the foot of the bed, open at the article Ecstasy; the other near the right hand displayed the article Death. On the latter volume was a pencil and a bit of paper, with the words,Je meurs avec calme et bonheur, clearly written, with the date annexed; but beneath that there appeared, in characters very difficult to be read, the following words:Au moment de l’agonie j’aurais voulu m’être procuré une sensation agréable. It would appear that the deceased immediately on writing the scrawl, had fallen into the position in which he was found. The attitude did not betoken any struggle at the last moment; yet it seems probable, from the signs of sickness of the stomach, and themention of agony in the last phrase, that life did not become extinct without some painful sensations.
Madame Augine having been personally attached to the late Queen of France, expected to suffer under the execrable tyranny of Robespierre. She often declared to her sister, Madame Campan, that she never would wait the execution of the order of arrest, and that she was determined to die rather than fall into the hands of the executioner. Madame Campan endeavoured, by the principles of morality and philosophy, to persuade her sister to abandon this desperate resolution; and in her last visit, as if she had foreseen the fate of this unfortunate woman, she added, “Wait the future with resignation; some fortunate occurrence may turn aside the fate you fear, even at the moment you may believe the danger to be greatest.” Soon afterwards the guards appeared before the house where Madame Augine resided, to take her to prison. Firm in her resolution to avoid the ignominy of execution, she ran to the top of the house, threw herself from the balcony, and was taken up dead. As they were carrying her corpse to the grave, the attendants were obliged to turn aside to let pass the cart which conveyed Robespierre to the scaffold!
In the year 1600, on the 10th of April, a person of the name of William Dorrington threw himself from the top of St. Sepulchre’s church, in London, having previously left on the leads or roof a paper of which the following is a copy:—
“Let no other man be troubled for that which is my own fault; John Bunkley and his fellows, by perjury and other bad means, have brought me to this end. God forgive it them, and I do. And, O Lord, forgive me this cruel deed upon my own body, which I utterly detest, and most humbly pray him to cast it behind him; and that of his most exceeding and infinite mercy he will forgive it me, with all my other sins. But surely, after they had slandered me, every day that I lived was to me a hundred deaths, which caused me rather to die with infamy than to live in infamy and torment.
“Oh, summa Deitas, quæ cœlis et superis presides, meis medere miseris, ut spretis inferis, letis superis, reis dona veniam.79
“Trusting in his only passion and merits of Jesus Christ, and confessing my exceeding great sins, I say—‘Master, have mercy upon me!’”
This paper was folded up in form of a letter, and indorsed, “Oh, let me live, and I will call upon thy name!”
Thomas Davers, who built at a vast expense a little fort on the River Thames, near Blackwall, known by the name of Davers’s Folly, after passing through a series of misfortunes, chiefly owing to an unhappy turn of mind, put an end to his miserable life. Some few hours before his death, he was seen to write the following card:—“Descended from an ancient and honourable family, I have, for fifteen years past, suffered more indigence than ever gentleman submitted to; neglected by my acquaintance, traduced by my enemies, and insulted by the vulgar, I am so reduced, worn down and tired, that I have nothing left but that lasting repose, the joint and dernier inheritance of all.
“Of laudanum an ample doseMust all my present ills compose;But the best laudanum of allI want (not resolution) but a ball.
“Of laudanum an ample doseMust all my present ills compose;But the best laudanum of allI want (not resolution) but a ball.
“Of laudanum an ample doseMust all my present ills compose;But the best laudanum of allI want (not resolution) but a ball.
“Of laudanum an ample dose
Must all my present ills compose;
But the best laudanum of all
I want (not resolution) but a ball.
A farmer near Allandale, in Northumberland, procured a gun-barrel, which he loaded with powder and shot, and having placed the stock end in the fire, he leaned with his belly against the other. In this position he awaited the dreadful moment. When the barrel became hot, an explosion took place, by which he was shot through the body. He had, some time before, been in the habit of excessive drinking,which had impaired his intellects, and probably produced a derangement which led to the commission of the deed.
Mr. Henry Grymes, of Virginia, U. S., whilst labouring under the influence of delirium, broke his skull with a stone. After having shattered it, he took out a piece about three inches long, and two broad. Concluding that this would not put a period to his existence, he thrust his fingers into his head, and tore out a considerable quantity of his brains. Instead of immediate death,he instantly returned to the full exercise of reason!walked home, and lived to the second evening following. He appeared very penitent and rational to the last moment of his life; and in the meantime gave to his friends the above statement of the horrid transaction. The cause of this derangement is believed to have been a disappointment in marriage. Through the whole of his life he supported an unsullied character.
“A blacksmith charged an old gun-barrel with a brace of bullets, and, putting one end into the fire of his forge, tied a string to the handle of his bellows, by pulling which he could make them play whilst he was at a convenient distance, kneeling down; he then placed his head near the mouth of the barrel, and moving the bellows by means of the string, they blew up the fire, he keeping his head, with astonishing firmness and horrible deliberation, in that position till the further end of the barrel was so heated as to kindle the powder, whose explosion instantly drove the bullets through his brain. Though I know this happened literally as I relate it, yet there is something so extraordinary, and almost incredible, in the circumstance, that perhaps I should not have mentioned it, had it not been well attested, and known to the inhabitants of Geneva, and to all the English there.”80
A Hanoverian, eighty years of age, resided at a country house near Berne, with his five daughters, the eldest of whom was aged thirty, and the youngest sixteen. The family wereof very retired habits, but were governed chiefly by the eldest sister, who was noted for her imperious disposition, and opposition to religion. A young Englishman, who had been for some time an occasional visitor to the house, became smitten with one of the daughters; and one fine evening, as the five sisters were taking the air in a carriage in the avenues of the Eugi, they met him in his cabriolet, accompanied by a friend. After parading up and down for some time, an exchange of vehicles was proposed to and accepted by the young ladies, one of whom accompanied the Englishman, and his friend entered the carriage with the ladies. A similar change was again effected, until the Englishman found himself with the object of his affections, with whom he immediately decamped. The others, thinking he had returned to the house by another road, gave themselves no uneasiness, but continued their road homewards. On arriving, however, they found he had not returned. The eldest sister, becoming alarmed, sent and informed the police that her sister had been run away with; and the next day, news having been received that the runaways were at Fribourg, she immediately set out for that place, accompanied by one of her sisters. Before her departure, she told the two who remained, that if she did not return by a certain hour, it would be a proof that their family was dishonoured; in which case, it became the duty of them all to renounce life. She required, and even extorted, from them a solemn oath, that they would drown themselves if they (the two elder sisters) did not return at the hour mentioned. On arriving at Fribourg, and finding their sister, whom they could not persuade to return home, they two resolved upon putting their resolution into effect; for which purpose they repaired to the banks of the Sarine; but the younger, on arriving, finding her courage fail, exclaimed, “Kill me, sister; I can never throw myself into the river.” The eldest drew out a dagger, and was about to perpetrate the deed, when a peasant coming up, interrupted the design. She immediately despatched the peasant to prevent her other two sisters fromputting their oath into effect; but the precaution was too late. After having prepared every necessary for their aged father during the day, they dressed themselves in their best apparel, and, on arriving at the banks of the Aar, fastened themselves with a shawl, and, embracing each other, precipitated themselves into the river, in which position their bodies were found some time afterwards.
The particulars of the following extraordinary case we find recorded in the Annual Register for 1823. It appears that a man of the name of Spring and his paramour, Mary Gooch, had agreed to commit mutual suicide. For that purpose a large dose of laudanum was purchased; but the dose which Spring took was not sufficient for his purpose, and he recovered. The poor woman was successful in killing herself. The following is the evidence given by Spring at the coroner’s inquest:—
“John Spring said, that he was present with the deceased in bed when she died, about seven o’clock on Friday morning; that she did not die in agony; that on the Wednesday evening the deceased and witness came to an agreement to buy some laudanum to take together, that they might both be found dead together in the same bed; that on the Thursday morning, he (the witness) went to the chemist’s and bought some laudanum; he thinks four ounces; that when he came in, Mary Gooch said, ‘Your heart has failed you; you have not bought it for me;’ that she got up and felt witness’s pocket. The deceased said, ‘You have got something here.’ Witness replied, ‘Oh, that will soon do our business, if we take it.’ She said, ‘Have you any money left of what I gave you to buy it with?’ Witness said, ‘Yes, there are some halfpence.’ The deceased said she would purchase some oranges with them, to take after it, and would send for them; that she sent a boy of Webb’s, who returned with two oranges; that the deceased peeled them; that she took two wine glasses off the shelf, and placed hers on the box, and said, ‘Now let us take it.’ She poured half into one glass, andhalf into another. One glass she kept to herself, and the other she gave to witness. The deceased said, ‘Let us take hold of each other’s hands.’ Witness said, ‘No, my dear; if we do, we shall not take it; let us turn back to back, and take it.’ Deceased and witness turned their backs to one another, and drank the contents of the glasses. After they had drunk the laudanum, the deceased said, ‘What shall we do with the bottle?’ Witness said, he would go and throw it away. She said, she would in the mean time wipe the glasses. He threw away the bottle, and the deceased had wiped the glasses by the time he came back. The deceased said, ‘Let us go to bed.’ They both went to bed together. The deceased afterwards got out of bed, placed a chair against the door, to fasten it, and drew the window blinds. The deceased then said, ‘Now we shall die happily together.’ This was between two and three o’clock. He asked the deceased how she came by the money she had given him; the deceased said, ‘That is of no consequence, and does not signify;’ the deceased and witness conversed together about various things, till eight o’clock. She said, she had sent her gown to her aunt’s, and that the money came from her. The laudanum did not take any effect till about two; she then began to sleep. The witness was sick about four, and the deceased was awake at that time. The deceased was not sick at all, and fell into a sound sleep at six. The witness awoke her between six and seven; the deceased then said, ‘How large your eyes look!’ Witness said to her, ‘Mary, I am afraid my laudanum will take no effect.’ The deceased said, ‘Oh dear! if I should die without you, and you are taken before a court of justice, I shall not die easy.’ Witness told her she might be quite happy, for, if it did not take effect, he would get up and buy some that would, as he would die with her. The deceased said, ‘My dear, pray give me that blue muslin handkerchief, that I may have it in my hand when I die. Pray, don’t you take anything; but let me die, and you will get over.’ She then laid her head on the shoulderof the witness, and died almost immediately. The body began to grow cold by the time he came in from the town, about half-past eight. The deceased had been in a bad state of mind ever since he had known her. She always appeared to wish to die, and had attempted to destroy herself before, when the witness was at a fair. About a month previous, the deceased having come home in an unhappy state of mind, got up about twelve at night, took a linen line, pinned her cap over her head, and went out of the house, taking a small chair with her. She had one end of a rope about her neck, and was about to throw it over the arm of an apple-tree, when he overtook her, brought her in, and took the rope from her. The deceased, all Wednesday evening, was very anxious to die, and wished witness to die with her. On Thursday, she expressed a desire that they should both die together. The witness had known the deceased ever since Michaelmas Bury fair. She had been very anxious about the payment of the half-year’s rent; the witness said, he could go to his friends and get it; deceased said, ‘If you go away, I shall be afraid that you will not come back again.’ It was not from want that they committed the act; it had been in contemplation some time.”
A young lady, at a boarding school near Birmingham, had been set a task, and felt indignant at being obliged to learn it out of an old book, while some of the other scholars were indulged with new ones. She went next day to an old woman in the neighbourhood, and told her “that she had had a singular dream,—that she was dead, and had been carried to her grave by such and such young ladies,” naming some of her companions and young friends; and asked the old woman what she thought of it; who replied, “that she put no faith in dreams.” A few days after, when going a walk with the other scholars, she loitered behind, and making her escape from the party, drowned herself in a pool near the school. She left her hat (or bonnet) on the edge of the pool, wherein was pinned a letter for her parents, entreating theirforgiveness of such a rash act. She therein requested to have for her bearers those whom she had said she dreamed had carried her to her grave; and enclosed some locks of her hair as mementos of friendship. She was only about eleven years of age, and the daughter of very respectable parents in the neighbourhood.
Sophia Edwards and Mary West, two female-servants, in the family of the Rev. John Gibbons, of Brasted, in Kent, were left in care of the house for some weeks, in consequence of the absence of their master and mistress. During this time they had the misfortune to break some articles of furniture, and to spoil four dozen of knives and forks, by incautiously lighting a fire in an oven where they had been placed to keep them from rust. The unfortunate girls, however, bought other knives and forks. Upon the return of Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons, the servants were severely reprimanded for what had happened, and one of them received notice to leave her place. They both appeared to be very uncomfortable for two days afterwards; and, on the second day, the footman heard them in conversation respecting Martha Viner, a late servant in the same family, who had drowned herself in a pond in the garden, and observing one to the other, that she had done so through trouble. The elder then said to the younger—“We will have a swim to-night, Mary!” The other replied—“So we will, girl.” The footman thought they were jesting, and said—“Ay, and I will swim with you!” Sophia Edwards replied—“No, you shan’t; but I will have a swim, and afterwards I will haunt you.” After this conversation, they continued about their work as usual, and at six o’clock asked the footman to get tea for them. While he was in the pantry for that purpose, he heard the kitchen door shut; and on his return into the kitchen, they were both gone. The footman afterwards thought he heard them upstairs, and therefore took no notice of their absence, until eight o’clock, when he told his master and mistress. Search was made for them about the house, garden, andneighbourhood, during the whole night; and early next morning, the same pond was dragged which had so recently been the watery grave of Martha Viner, when both their bodies were found in it, lying close to each other.
The following whimsical instance of indifference as to the mode of suicide is related in Sir John Hawkins’s History of the Science and Practice of Music, vol. v. 7:—“One Jeremiah Clarke, organist of St. Paul’s, an. dom. 1700, was at the house of a friend in the country, from whence he took an abrupt resolution of returning to London. His friend having observed marks of great dejection in his behaviour, and knowing him to be a man disappointed in love, furnished him not only with a horse, but a servant to take care of him. A fit of melancholy seizing him on the road, he alighted and went into a field, in the corner whereof was a pond, and also trees; where he began to debate with himself, whether he should then end his days by hanging or drowning. Not being able to resolve on either, he thought of making what he looked on as chance, the umpire. He tossed a piece of money into the air, which came down on its edge and stuck in the clay. Though the determination answered not his wishes, it was far from ambiguous, as it seemed to forbid both methods of destruction; and would have given unspeakable comfort to a mind less disordered than his. Being thus interrupted in his purpose, he returned, and mounting his horse, rode on to London, where, in a short time after, he shot himself.
Falret relates the case of an apothecary who, on receiving a reproof from his sweetheart, went home and blew out his brains, having first written the following sentence on his door—“When a man knows not how to please his mistress, he ought to know how to die.”
A German merchant, aged thirty-two, depressed by severe reverses of fortune, came to the resolution of starving himself to death. With this view he repaired, on the 15th of September, 1818, to an unfrequented wood, where he constructeda hut of boughs, and remained, without food, till the 3rd of October following. At this period, he was found, by the landlord of a public-house, still alive, but very feeble, speechless, and insensible. Broth, with the yolk of an egg, was administered to him; he swallowed some with difficulty, and died immediately.
In the pocket of the unfortunate man was found a journal, written in pencil, singular of its kind, and remarkable as a narrative of his feelings and sentiments. It commences in these words:—“The generous philanthropist, who shall one day find me here after my death, is requested to inter me; and in consideration of this service, to keep my clothes, purse, knife, and letter-case. Moreover observe, thatI am no suicide, but have died of hunger, because through wicked men I have lost the whole of my very considerable property, and am unwilling to become a burden to my friends.” The ensuing remark is dated September 17th, the second day of abstinence:—“I yet live; but how I have been soaked during the night, and how cold it has been. O God! when will my sufferings terminate! No human being has for three days been seen here; only some birds.” The journal continues, “And again, three days, and I have been so soaked during the night, that my clothes to-day are not quite dry. How hard this is no one knows, and my last hour must soon arrive. Doubtlessly, during the heavy rain, a little water has got into my throat; but the thirst is not to be slaked with water; moreover, I have had none even of this for six days, since I am no longer able to move from the place. Yesterday, for the first time during the eternity which, alas! I have already passed here, a man approached me within eight or ten paces. He was certainly a shepherd. I saluted him in silence, and he returned it in the same manner; probably, he will find me after my death!”
“Finally, I here protest before the all-wise God, that, notwithstanding all the misfortunes which I have suffered from my youth, I yet die very unwillingly, although necessityhas imperiously driven me to it. Nevertheless, I pray for it. Father, forgive him; for he knows not what he does! More I cannot write for faintness and spasms; and this will be the last. Dated near the forest, by the side of the Goat public-house.
It is evident, from the above account, that consciousness and the power of writing remained till thefourteenthday of abstinence. The operation of famine was aggravated by mental distress, and still more by exposure to the weather. This, indeed, seems to have produced his most urgent sufferings. Subsequent to the common cravings and debility of hunger, his first physical distress appears to have been the sensation of cold; then cold and thirst; lastly, faintness and spasm. In this case we find no symptoms of inflammation. A want of nervous energy, arising from the reduction in the quantity or quality of the blood, appears to have been the principal disease. The effort of swallowing, and the oppression of food on the exhausted stomach, completed the catastrophe.81
There is an extraordinary instance of suicidal design recorded, and which is worth noticing, were it only to shew the extent to which the human powers can sustain life unaided by proper nourishment, even though the intelligent principle be subverted.
An officer, having experienced many mortifications, fell into a state of deep melancholy. He resolved to die of famine; and he followed up his resolution so faithfully that he passed forty-five days without eating anything, except on the fifth day, when he asked for some distilled water, in which was mixed a quarter of a pint of spirits of aniseed. This lasted him three days. Upon being told that this quantity of spirit was too much, he then took in each glass of water no more than three drops of it, and the same quantity of fluid lasted him thirty-nine days. He then ceased drinking, and tooknothing at all daring the last six days. On the thirty-sixth day, he was obliged to recline on a couch. Every request to induce him to break his resolution was useless, and he was regarded as already lost, when chance recalled within him a desire to live. Having seen a child with a slice of bread and butter, the sight excited in him so violent an appetite that he instantly asked for some soup. They gave him every two hours some spoonsful of rice bouillie, and by degrees more nourishing diet, and his health, though slowly, was established.82
Two young men, mere youths, entered arestaurant, bespoke a dinner of unusual luxury and expense, and afterwards arrived punctually at the appointed hour to eat it. They did so, apparently with all the zest of youthful appetite and glee. They called for champagne, and quaffed it hand-in-hand. No symptom of sadness, thought, or reflection of any kind, was observed to mix with their mirth, which was loud, long, and unremitting. At last came thecafé noir, the cognac, and the bill; one of them was seen to point out the amount to the other, and then burst out afresh into violent laughter. Having swallowed each a cup of coffee to the dregs, thegarçonwas ordered to request the company of therestaurateurfor a few minutes. He came immediately, expecting, perhaps, to receive the payment of his bill, minus some extra charge which the jocund but economical youths might deem exorbitant.
Instead of this, however, the elder of the two informed him that the dinner had been excellent, which was the more fortunate, as it was decidedly the last that either of them should ever eat; that for his bill, he must of necessity excuse the payment of it, as, in fact, that neither of them possessed a single sous; that upon no other occasion would they have thus violated the customaryetiquettebetween guest and landlord; butthat finding this world, with its toils and its troubles, unworthy of them, they had determined once more to enjoy a repast of which their poverty must for ever prevent the repetition, and then take leave of existence for ever! For the first part of this resolution, he declared that it had, thanks to the cook and his cellar, been achieved nobly; and for the last, it would soon follow, for thecafé noir, besides the little glass of his admirable cognac, had been medicated with that which would speedily settle all their accounts for them.
Therestaurateurwas enraged. He believed no part of the rhodomontade but that which declared their inability to discharge their bill, and he talked loudly in his turn of putting them into the hands of the police. At length, however, upon their offering to give up their address, he was induced to allow them to depart.
On the following day, either the hope of obtaining his money or some vague fear that they might have been in earnest in the wild tale that they had told him, induced this man to go to the address they had left with him; and he there heard that the two unhappy boys had been that morning found lying together, hand-in-hand, on a bed hired a few weeks before by one of them. When they were discovered, they were already dead and cold.
On a small table in the room lay many written papers, all expressing aspirations after greatness that should cost neither labour nor care, a profound contempt for those who were satisfied to live by the sweat of their brow, sundry quotations from Victor Hugo, and a request that their names and the manner of their death might be transmitted to the newspapers.
Many are the cases of young men, calling themselves friends, who have thus encouraged each other to make their final exit from life, if not with applause, at least with effect. And more numerous still are the tales recounted of young men and women found dead, and locked in each other’s arms,fulfilling literally, and with most sad seriousness, the destiny sketched so merrily in an old song—
“Gai, gai, marions-nous—Mettons-nous dans la misère;Gai, gai, marions-nous—Mettons-nous la corde au cou.”83
“Gai, gai, marions-nous—Mettons-nous dans la misère;Gai, gai, marions-nous—Mettons-nous la corde au cou.”83
“Gai, gai, marions-nous—Mettons-nous dans la misère;Gai, gai, marions-nous—Mettons-nous la corde au cou.”83
“Gai, gai, marions-nous—
Mettons-nous dans la misère;
Gai, gai, marions-nous—
Mettons-nous la corde au cou.”83
A woman drowned herself by breaking a hole in the ice of a pond sufficiently large to admit her head, which she put into the water, so that her body remained quite dry.
A Greenwich pensioner, who had his allowance stopped from some misconduct, committed suicide by stabbing himself with his spectacles, which he sharpened to a point for that purpose.
A man, with a determination to sacrifice his life, threw himself among the bears in theJardin du Roi, in Paris. A bear sprung immediately upon him, and before he could be rescued from Bruin’s grasp, he was so mutilated that he died a few hours afterwards. Prior to his death he expressed much pleasure at having effected his purpose.
A young lady, at the age of nineteen, was extremely beautiful, in possession of a large fortune, and by no means deficient in understanding or wit; but was immoderately fond of play. She soon gambled away her whole fortune. Reflections on the past became bitter; anticipation of the future alarming; melancholy increased, and weariness of life succeeded. Being at Bath, in the year 1731, she was seen to retire to her chamber with her usual composure, and was found in the morning hanging by a gold and silver girdle to a closet door. Her youth, beauty, and distress, rendered her an object of pity to every one but a near relation, who, on hearing of her death, was inhuman enough to exclaim, in a punning style—“Then she has tied herself up from play.”
On the morning of her death she left these lines in the window:—
“O death, thou pleasing end of human woe!Thou cure for life! thou greatest good below!Still mayst thou fly the coward and the slave,And thy soft slumbers only bless the brave.”
“O death, thou pleasing end of human woe!Thou cure for life! thou greatest good below!Still mayst thou fly the coward and the slave,And thy soft slumbers only bless the brave.”
“O death, thou pleasing end of human woe!Thou cure for life! thou greatest good below!Still mayst thou fly the coward and the slave,And thy soft slumbers only bless the brave.”
“O death, thou pleasing end of human woe!
Thou cure for life! thou greatest good below!
Still mayst thou fly the coward and the slave,
And thy soft slumbers only bless the brave.”
On reading which a gentleman wrote thus:—
“O dice, ye vain diverters of our woe!Ye waste of life! ye greatest curse below!May ne’er good sense again become your slave,Nor your false charms allure and cheat the brave.”
“O dice, ye vain diverters of our woe!Ye waste of life! ye greatest curse below!May ne’er good sense again become your slave,Nor your false charms allure and cheat the brave.”
“O dice, ye vain diverters of our woe!Ye waste of life! ye greatest curse below!May ne’er good sense again become your slave,Nor your false charms allure and cheat the brave.”
“O dice, ye vain diverters of our woe!
Ye waste of life! ye greatest curse below!
May ne’er good sense again become your slave,
Nor your false charms allure and cheat the brave.”
A man whose name and connexions were unknown, was found dead in his chamber at an inn, in Kent, with the following paper lying beside him:—
Lost to the world, and by the world forsaken,A wretched creature,Who groaned under a weary lifeUpwards of thirty years, without knowingOne happy hour.And allIn consequence of one single error,Committed in early days,Though highly venialAs being the mere effects of juvenile folly,And soon repented of.But, alas!The poor prodigalHad no kind father that would take him home,And welcome back his sad repentant virtueWith fond forgiveness and the fatted calf.HereHe sinks beneath his mighty load of ills,And withHis miserable being lays them down,Heart-broken,At the age of fifty.Tender reader, give him a little earthFor charity.
A middle aged Frenchman, decently dressed, hanged himself in a public-house in Old Street Road. A letter written inFrench was found in his pocket, setting forth that some years ago, he dreamt he was to die that day, if not, he was to be damned; and therefore, for the salvation of his soul, he had thought it necessary to put an end to his life.
A young gentleman, living in London, had paid his addresses to an agreeable young lady, won her heart, and obtained the consent of her father, to whom she was an only child. The old gentleman had a fancy to have them married at the same parish church where he himself had been, at a village in Westmoreland; and they accordingly set out alone, the father being at the time indisposed with the gout, in London.
The bridegroom took only his man, and the bride her maid; and when they arrived at the place appointed, the bridegroom wrote the following letter to his wife’s father:—
“Sir,—After a very pleasant journey hither, we are preparing for the happy hour in which I am to be your son. I assure you the bride carries it, in the eyes of the vicar who married you, much beyond her mother; though he says, your open sleeves, pantaloons, and shoulder-knot, made a much better shew than the finical dress I am in. However, I am contented to be the second fine man this village ever saw, and shall make it very merry before night, because I shall write from thence, Your most dutiful son,
“T. D.”
“P. S. The bride gives her duty, and is as handsome as an angel. I am the happiest man breathing.”
The bridegroom’s servant knew his master would leave the place very soon after the wedding was over, and seeing him draw his pistols the night before, took an opportunity of going into his chamber and charged them.
Upon their return from the garden they went into that room, and, after a little fond raillery on the subject of their courtship, the bridegroom took up one of the pistols, which he knew he had unloaded the night before, presented itto her, and said, with the most graceful air, whilst she looked pleased at his agreeable flattery, “Now, madam, repent of all those cruelties you have been guilty of towards me; consider, before you die, how often you have let a poor wretch freeze under your casement. You shall die, you tyrant! you shall die with all those instruments of death about you,—with that enchanting smile, those killing ringlets of your hair!”
“Give fire,” said she, laughing. He did so, and shot her dead. Who can speak his condition? But he bore it so patiently as to call up his man. The poor wretch entered, and his master locked the door upon him. “Will,” said he, “did you charge these pistols?” He answered, “Yes;” upon which his master shot him dead with the undischarged instrument of death. After this, amidst a thousand broken sobs, piercing groans, and distracted motions, he wrote the following letter to the father of his dead mistress:—
“Sir,—Two hours ago, I told you truly I was the happiest man alive. Your daughter lies dead at my feet, killed by my own hand through a mistake of my man’s charging my pistols unknown to me! I have murdered him for it. Such is my wedding-day. I will follow my wife to her grave; but before I throw myself upon my sword, I command my distraction so far as to explain my story to you. I fear my heart will not keep together till I have stabbed it. Poor, good old man, remember that he who killed your daughter died for it! In death I give you thanks, and pray for you though I dare not pray for myself. If it be possible, do not curse me. Farewell for ever!
“T. D.”
This being finished, he put an end to his life. The body of the servant was interred in the village where he was killed; and the young couple, attended by their maid, were brought to London, and privately interred in one grave, in the parish in which the unhappy father resided.
The following case occurred in England not many years ago. A young couple, the wife aged sixteen and the husbandnineteen, discovered, a few months after marriage, that money was much more easily spent than procured; and being unable to live in the style they wished, they determined, after having held a long consultation on the subject, that their best and only remedy was at once to put an end to their imaginary miseries by committing suicide. After dinner, the husband attended his usual business, and brought home with him at tea-time a quarter of a pound of sugar of lead, for the purpose of executing their design. The whole of this poison was dissolved in a pot of coffee, and carefully strained and sweetened, to render it more palatable. The young man then deliberately wrote a letter, explaining the circumstances to his father, to whom he had previously sent a message, requesting him to call in the evening. At the time appointed the husband and wife drank off the poison, and then, embracing each other, laid down to die. When they were discovered, all that they could be induced to say was the word “poison.” Medical assistance was immediately procured, but no persuasions could induce them to take an antidote, both of them heroically resolving to die. The young woman, however, reconsidered the point, and began to think that death was not so agreeable a thing as she first supposed; but, retaining her feelings of obedience strong in death, imploringly said to her husband, when she was pressed to take the medicine offered, “Shall I take it, dear?” To this he gave a direct negative, enforcing it with an oath; but her love of life triumphed over her sense of obedience to the commands of her lord, and she consented to swallow the antidote. The husband, however, was not so willing to venture upon the cares and vexations of the world, and obstinately persisted in dying; but as this was not thought prudent, he was made by physical force to swallow the medicine, and was restored to life, and is still in the land of the living.
Instances of mutual suicide are by no means uncommon on the Continent, and were not unknown in ancient times. The inhabitants of England have not become as yet romanticenough for these exhibitions. The case of M. Kleist, the celebrated Prussian poet, and Madame Vogle, may be fresh in the minds of our readers. Madame Vogle, it is said, had suffered long under an incurable disorder; her physicians had declared her death inevitable; she herself came to a resolution to put an end to her existence. M. Kleist, the poet, and a friend of her family, had also determined to kill himself. These two unhappy beings, having confidentially communicated to each other their horrible resolution, resolved to carry it into effect at the same time. They repaired to the inn at Wilhemstadt, between Berlin and Potsdam, on the borders of the Sacred Lake. For one night and one day they were preparing themselves for death, by putting up prayers, singing, drinking wine and rum, and concluded by drinking sixteen cups of coffee. They wrote a letter to M. Vogle, to announce to him the resolution they had taken, and to beg him to come as speedily as possible, for the purpose of seeing their remains devoutly interred. After having despatched the letter to Berlin, they repaired to the bank of the Sacred Lake, where they sat down opposite to each other. M. Kleist then took a loaded pistol and shot Madame Vogle through the heart,—she instantly fell back dead; he then reloaded the pistol, and applying the muzzle to his own head, blew out his brains.
A horrid scene of mixed murder and suicide, accompanied with great calmness in its execution, was exhibited in the year 1732, in the family of one Richard Smith, a bookbinder. This man being a prisoner for debt within the walls of the King’s Bench, was found hanging in his chamber, together with his wife; and their infant of two years old lay murdered in a cradle beside them. Smith left three letters behind him, one of which was addressed to his landlord, in which he says:—“He hopes effects enough will be found to discharge his lodgings, and recommends to his protection his ancient dog and cat.” A second was addressed to his cousin Brindley, and contained severe censure on the person through whosemeans he had been brought into difficulties, with a desire also that Brindley would make the third letter public, which was as follows:—
“These actions, considered in all their circumstances, being somewhat uncommon, it may not be improper to give some account of the cause; and that it was an inveterate hatred we conceived against poverty and rags, evils that through a train of unlucky accidents were become inevitable. For we appeal to all that ever knew us, whether we were idle or extravagant, whether or no we have not taken as much pains to get our living as our neighbours, although not attended with the same success. We apprehend the taking our child’s life away to be a circumstance for which we shall be generally condemned; but for our own parts we are perfectly easy on that head. We are satisfied it is less cruelty to take the child with us, even supposing a state of annihilation as some dream of, than to leave her friendless in the world, exposed to ignorance and misery. Now in order to obviate some censures which may proceed either from ignorance or malice, we think it proper to inform the world, that we firmly believe the existence of an Almighty God; that this belief of ours is not an implicit faith, but deduced from the nature and reason of things. We believe the existence of an Almighty Being from the consideration of his wonderful works, from those innumerable celestial and glorious bodies, and from their wonderful order and harmony. We have also spent some time in viewing those wonders which are to be seen in the minute part of the world, and that with great pleasure and satisfaction. From all which particulars we are satisfied that such amazing things could not possibly be without a first mover,—without the existence of an Almighty Being. And as we know the wonderful God to be Almighty, so we cannot help believing that he is also good—not implacable, not like such wretches as men are, not taking delight in the misery of his creatures; for which reason we resign up our breath to him without any terrible apprehensions,submitting ourselves to those ways which in his goodness he shall please to appoint after death. We also believe in the existence of unbodied natures, and think we have reason for that belief, although we do not pretend to know their way of subsisting. We are not ignorant of those laws madein terrorem, but leave the disposal of our bodies to the wisdom of the coroner and his jury, the thing being indifferent to us where our bodies are laid. From hence it will appear how little anxious we are about a ‘hic jacet.’ We for our part neither expect nor desire such honours; but shall content ourselves with a borrowed epitaph, which we shall insert in this paper: