said Johnson, "and think he had made a great addition to our stock." Mr.

Stephens has preserved a respectable silence, on the subject of Lot's wife.

The island, which is above referred to, turned out, like Sancho's in Barrataria, to be an optical illusion. The Maltese sailor, who said he had rowed about the lake with his employer, a Mr. Costigan, who died on its sh.o.r.es, was disposed, after fingering his fee, to enlarge and improve his former narrative. Mr. Stephens does not give the date of Costigan's visit to the Dead Sea. He, however, furnishes a linear map of its form. This also is drawn by the Maltese sailor, from memory. All that can be said of it is, that it corresponds with other plans, in one particular,--the Jordan enters the sea, at its northern extremity. Probably, no very accurate plan is to be found, such have been the impediments in the way of any deliberate examination--unless Lieutenant Lynch has succeeded in the work. The figure of the Dead Sea, in the Atlas of Lucas, has no resemblance to the figure, in the late Bible Atlas by Dr. Jenks.

No. x.x.xVII.

Dr. Johnson said, if an atheist came into his house, he would lock up his spoons. I have always distrusted a s.e.xton, who did not cherish a sentiment of profound and cordial affection, for his bell. It did my heart good, when a boy, to mark the proud satisfaction, with which Lutton, the s.e.xton of the Old Brick, used to ring for fire. I have no confidence in a fellow, who can toll his bell, for a funeral, and listen to its deep, and solemn vibrations, without a gentle subduing of the spirit. I never had a great affection for Clafflin, the s.e.xton of Berry Street Church; but I always respected the deep feeling of indignation he manifested, if anybody meddled with his bellrope.

Bells were treated more honorably in the olden time, and ringing was an art--an accomplishment--then. Holden tells us some fine stories of the societies of ringers. In his youth, Sir Matthew Hale was a member of one of those societies. In 1687, Nell Gwinne--and it may be lawful to take the devil's water, as Dr. Worcester said, to turn the Lord's mill--Nell Gwinne left the ringers of the church bells of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, where there is a peal of twelve, a sum of money, for a weekly entertainment. I never shall get the chime of the North Church bells out of my ears--I hope I never shall--more than half an hundred years ago, my mother used to open the window, of a Christmas eve, that we might hear their music!

In the olden time, bells were baptized--_rantized_ I presume--and wore _posies_ on their collars. They were first cast in England, in the reign of Edmund I., and the first tunable set, or peal, for Croyland Abbey, was cast A. D. 960. Weever tells us, in his Funeral Monuments, that, in 1501, the bells of the Priory of Little Dunmow, in Ess.e.x, were baptized, by the names of St. Michael, St. John, Virgin Mary, &c. As late as 1816, the great bell of Notre Dame, in Paris, was baptized, by the name of the Duke of Angouleme. Bells were supposed to be invested with extraordinary powers. They were employed, not only to call the congregation together, to give notice of conflagrations, civil commotions, and the approach of an enemy, and to ring forth the merry holiday peal--but to quell tempests, pacify the restless dead, and arrest the very lightning. Bells often bore inscriptions like these:

Laudo Deum verum, plebem voco, conjugo clerum, Defunctos ploro, pestem fugo, festa decoro.

Funera plango; Fulgura frango; Sabbata pango; Excito lentos; Dissipo ventos; Paco cruentos.

The _pa.s.sing bell_ was the bell, which announced to the people, according to Mabillon, that a spirit was taking its flight, or _pa.s.sing away_, and demanding their prayers. Bells were also used to frighten away evil spirits, that were supposed to be on the watch, for their customers. The learned Durandus affirms, that all sorts of devils have a terror of bells. This, of course, can only be true of bells, that have been received into the flock, that is, baptized. Such was the Popish belief, and that the very devil, himself, cared not a fig, for an unbaptized bell. De Worde, in his Golden Legend, sayeth "it is said the evill spirytes that ben in the regyon of the ayre doubte moche, when they here the belles rongen, and this is the cause why the belles ben rongen, whan it thondreth, and when grate tempests and outrages of wether happen, to the ende that the feinds and wycked spirytes should be abashed and flee, and cease of the movinge of tempests."

Compared with the big bells of the earth--ours--the very largest--are cowbells, at best. The great bell of St. Paul's weighs 8400 pounds--a small affair; Great Tom of Lincoln, 9894--Great Tom of Oxford, 17,000.

This is precisely the weight of the bell of the Palazzo, at Florence;--St.

Peter's at Rome, 18,607--the great bell at Erfurth, 28,224--St. Joan's bell, at Moscow, 127,836--the bell of the Kremlin, 443,772. The last is the marvel of travellers, and its metal, at a low estimate, is valued at 66,565. During the fusion of this bell, considerable quant.i.ties of gold and silver were cast in, the pious contribution of the people. This enormous ma.s.s has never been suspended.

There was a bell--_parvis componere magna_--a very little bell indeed--very--a perfect _tintinabulum_. It made a most ridiculous noise.

An account of this bell may be found, in a pamphlet, ent.i.tled Historical Notices, &c., of the New North Religious Society, in the town of Boston, 1822. It weighed, says the writer, "_between three and four hundred_."

Twelve or thirteen hundred such bells, therefore, would just about counterpoise the bell of the Kremlin. "Its tone," says the writer, "_was unpleasant_." The preposterous clatter of this bell was, nevertheless, the gathering cry of the worshippers, at the New North Church, for the term of eighty-three years, from 1719 to 1802, when it was purchased by the town of Charlton, in the county of Worcester; probably to frighten the _evyll spirytes_, in the shape of wolves and foxes, abounding there, that would be likely to _doubte moche_, when this bell was _ben rongen_. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth is a proverb--not to criticise the tone of a gift bell may be another. This bell, which a stout South Down wether might almost have carried off, was the gift of _Mr. John Frizzell_, a merchant of Boston, to the New North Church, _on the island of North Boston_, as all that portion of the town was then called, lying North of Mill Creek.

On the principle which gave the t.i.tle of Bell the Cat to the famous Archibald, Frizzell should have borne the name of Bell the Church. Let it pa.s.s: Frizzell and his little bell are both translated. The tongue of the former is still; that of the latter still waggeth, I believe, in the town of Charlton.

The authenticity of the statements in the pamphlet to which I have referred, admits not of a doubt. The name of its highly respectable author, though not upon the t.i.tle-page, appears in the certificate of copyright; and, in the range of my limited reading, I have met with nothing, more curious and grotesque, than his account of the installation of the Rev. Peter Thacher, over the New North Church, Jan. 27, 1720. Upon no less respectable evidence, would I have believed, that our amiable ancestors could have acted so much like _evil spirytes_, upon such an occasion. I have not elbow room for the farce entire--one or two touches must suffice. After agreeing upon a mode of choosing a colleague, for the Rev. Mr. Webb, and pitching upon Mr. Thacher, a quarrel arose, among the people. The council met, on the day of installation, at the house of the Rev. Mr. Webb, at the corner of North Bennet and Salem Streets. The aggrieved a.s.sembled, at the house of Thomas Lee, in Bennet Street, next to the Universal meeting-house. A knowledge of these points is necessary, for a correct understanding of the subsequent strategy. If the Council attempted to go to the New North Church, through the street, in the usual way, they must necessarily pa.s.s Lee's house. The aggrieved waited on the Council, by a committee, requesting them not to proceed with the installation of Mr. Thacher; and a.s.suring them, that, if they persisted, force would be used, to prevent their occupation of the church.

Instead, therefore, of proceeding through the street, the Rev. Mr. Webb led the Council, by his back gate, through Love Lane, and a little alley, leading to the meeting-house, and thus got possession of the pulpit. Thus, by a knowledge of by-ways, so important in the _pet.i.te guerre_, the worthy clergyman outwitted the malcontents. A mob, to whom an installation, in such sort, was highly acceptable, had already gathered. The party at Lee's house, being apprised of the ruse, and perceiving they were _in danger of the council_, flew to the rescue. They rushed into the church; vociferously forbade the proceedings, and were "_indecent_," says the writer, "_almost beyond credibility_." "However incredible," continues the narrator, "it is a fact, that some of the most unruly did sprinkle a liquor, which shall be nameless, from the galleries, upon the people below." The wife of Josiah Langdon used to tell, with great asperity, of her being a sufferer by it. This good lady retained her resentment to old age--the filthy creatures entirely spoiled a new velvet hood, which she had made for the occasion, and she could not wear it again.

In the midst of this uproar, Mr. Thacher was installed. "The malcontents,"

says the writer, "went off in a bad humor. They proceeded to the gathering of another church. In the plenitude of their zeal, they first thought of denominating it the _Revenge_ Church of Christ; but they thought better of it, and called it the New Brick Church. However, the first name was retained, for many years, among the common people. Their zeal was great, indeed, and descended to puerility. They placed the figure of a c.o.c.k, as a vane, upon the steeple, out of derision of Mr. Thacher, whose Christian name was Peter. Taking advantage of a wind, which turned the head of the c.o.c.k towards the New North Meeting-house, when it was placed upon the spindle, a merry fellow straddled over it, and crowed three times, to complete the ceremony." The solemn, if not the sublime, and the ridiculous, seem, not unfrequently, to have met together at ordinations, in the olden time. "I could mention an ordination," says the Rev. Leonard Woods, of Andover, in a letter, written and published, a few years since, "that took place about twenty years ago, at which I, myself, was ashamed and grieved, to see two aged ministers literally drunk; and a third indecently excited with strong drink. These disgusting and appalling facts I should wish might be concealed. But they were made public, by the guilty persons; and I have thought it just and proper to mention them, in order to show how much we owe to a compa.s.sionate G.o.d, for the great deliverance he has wrought." Legitimate occasion for a Te Deum this, most certainly.

No. x.x.xVIII.

The _praeficae_, or mourning women, were not confined to Greece, Rome, and Judea. In 1810, Colonel Keatinge published the history of his travels. His account of Moorish funerals, is, probably, the best on record. The dead are dressed in their best attire. The ears, nostrils, and eyelids are filled with costly spices. Virgins are ornamented with bracelets, on their wrists and ankles. The body is enfolded in sanctified linen. If a male, a turban is placed at the head of the coffin; if a female, a large bouquet.

Before a virgin is buried, the _loo loo loo_ is sung, by hired women, that she may have the benefit of the wedding song. "When a person," says Mr.

Keatinge, "is thought to be dying, he is immediately surrounded by his friends, who begin to scream, in the most hideous manner, to convince him that there is no more hope, and that he is already reckoned among the dead."

Premature burial is said to be very common, among the Moors. For this, Mr.

Keatinge accounts, in this manner: "As, according to their religion, they cannot think the departed happy, till they are under ground, they are washed instantly, while yet warm; and the greatest consolation the sick man's friends can have, is to see him smile, while this operation is performing; not supposing such an appearance to be a convulsion, occasioned by washing and exposing the unfortunate person to the cold air, before life has taken its final departure."

When a death occurs, the relations immediately set up the _wooliah woo_; or death scream. This cry is caught up, from house to house, and hundreds of women are instantly gathered to the spot. They come to scream and mourn with the bereaved. This species of condolence is very happily described by Colonel Keatinge, page 92. "They," the howlers, "take her," the mother, widow or daughter, "in their arms, lay her head on their shoulders, and scream without intermission for several minutes, till the afflicted object, stunned with the constant howling and a repet.i.tion of her misfortune, sinks senseless on the floor. They likewise hire a number of women, who make this horrid noise round the bier, over which they scratch their faces, to such a degree, that they appear to have been bled with a lancet. These women are hired at burials, weddings and feasts. Their voices are heard at the distance of half a mile. It is the custom of those, who can afford it, to give, on the evening of the day the corpse is buried, a quant.i.ty of hot-dressed victuals to the poor. This, they call "the supper of the grave."

Dr. E. D. Clarke observes, in his Travels in Egypt, Lond., 1817, that he recognized, among the Egyptians, the same notes, and the repet.i.tion of the same syllables, in their funeral cries, that had become familiar to his ear, on like occasions, among the Russians and the Irish.

Dr. Martin, in his account of the Tonga Islands, in the South Pacific, compiled from Mariner's papers, in his narrative of the funeral of a chief, states, that the women mourned over the corpse, through the whole night, sitting as near as possible, singing their dismal death song, and beating their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and faces.

The desire, to magnify one's apostleship, is, doubtless, at the bottom of all extravagant demonstrations of sorrow, at funerals, in the form of screaming, howling, yelling, personal laceration, and disfigurement. In the highly interesting account of the missionary enterprise, upon which the Duff was employed, in 1796, it was stated, that, at the funeral of a chief of Tongataboo, the people of both s.e.xes continued, during two days, to mangle and hack themselves, in a shocking manner;--some thrust spears, through their thighs, arms, and cheeks; others beat their heads, till the blood gushed forth in streams; one man, having oiled his hair, set it on fire, and ran about the area, with his head in a blaze. This was a burning shame, beyond all doubt. I never forget old Tasman's bowl, when I think of this island. Tasman discovered Tongataboo, in 1643. At parting, he gave the chief a wooden bowl. Cook found this bowl, on the island, one hundred and thirty years afterwards. It had been used as a divining bowl, to ascertain the guilt or innocence of persons, charged with crimes. When the chief was absent, at some other of the Friendly Islands, the bowl was considered as his representative, and honored accordingly. Captain Cook presented the reigning chief with a pewter platter, and the bowl became immediately _functus officio_, the platter taking its place, for the purposes of divination.

In 1818, Captain Tuckey published the account of his expedition, to explore the Zaire, or Congo river. He describes a funeral, at Embomma, the chief mart, on that river. In returning to their vessel, after a visit to the chief, Chenoo, the party observed a hut, in which the corpse of a female was deposited, dressed as when alive. On the inside were four women howling l.u.s.tily, to whom two men, outside, responded; the concert closely resembling the yell, at an Irish funeral. Captain Tuckey should not have spoken so thoughtlessly of the _keena_, the funeral cry of the wild Irish, the most unearthly sound, that ever came from the agonized lungs of mortal. For the most perfect description of this peculiar scream, this inimitable h.e.l.la-baloo, the reader may turn to Mrs. Hall's incomparable account of an Irish funeral. In close connection with this incident, Captain Tuckey, p. 115, remarks, that, in pa.s.sing through the burying ground, at Embomma, they saw two graves, recently prepared, of monstrous size, being not less than nine feet by five.

This he explains as follows:--"Simmons (a native, returned from England to his native country) requested a piece of cloth to envelop his aunt, who had been dead seven years, and was to be buried in two months. The manner of preserving corpses, for so long a time, is by enveloping them in the cloth of the country, or in European cotton. The wrappers are successively multiplied, as they can be procured by the relations of the deceased, or according to the rank of the person; in the case of a rich and very great man, the bulk being only limited, by the power of conveyance to the grave." When the Spaniards entered the Province of Popayan, they found a similar practice there, with this difference, that the corpse was partially roasted, before it was enveloped. When a chief dies, among the Caribs of Guyana, his wives, the whole flock of them, watch the corpse for thirty days, to keep off the flies,--a task which becomes daily more burdensome, as the attraction becomes greater. At the expiration of thirty days, it is buried, and one of the ladies, probably the best beloved, with it.

Some of the Orinoco tribes were in the practice of tying a rope to the corpse, and sinking it in the river; in twenty-four hours, it was picked clean to the bones, by the fishes, and the skeleton became a very convenient and tidy memorial. This is decidedly preferable to the mode, adopted by the Pa.r.s.ees. Their sacred books enjoin them not to pollute _earth_, _water_, or _fire_, with their dead. They therefore feel authorized to pollute the air. They bury not; but place the corpses at a distance, and leave them to their fate. It was the opinion of Menu, that the body was a tenement, scarcely worth inhabiting; "a mansion," says he, "with bones for beams and rafters,--nerves and tendons for cords; muscles and blood for mortar; skin for its outward covering; a mansion, infested by age and sorrow, the seat of many maladies, hara.s.sed with pains, haunted with darkness, and utterly incapable of standing long--such a mansion let the vital soul, its tenant, always quit cheerfully."

This contempt for the tabernacle--the carca.s.s--the outer man--strangely contrasts with that deep regard for it, evinced by the Egyptians, and such of the Jews, Greeks, and Romans, as were in the practice of embalming.

When that extraordinary man, Sir Thomas Browne, exclaimed, in his Hydriotaphia, "who knows the fate of his bones or how oft he shall be buried? Who hath the oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?" he, doubtless, was thinking of Egyptian mummies, transported to Europe, forming a part of the materia medica, and being actually swallowed as physic. A writer, in the London Quarterly, vol. 21, p. 363, states, that, when the old traveller, John Sanderson, returned to England, six hundred pounds of mummies were brought home, for the Turkey Company. I am aware, that it has been denied, by some, that the Egyptian mummies were broken up, and sent to Europe, for medicinal uses. By them it is a.s.serted, that what the druggists have been supplied with is the flesh of executed criminals, or such others, as the Jews can obtain, filled with bitumen, aloes and other things, and baked, till the juices are exhaled, and the embalming matter has fitted the body for transportation. The Lord deliver us from such "_doctors' stuff_" as this.

No. x.x.xIX.

_Non sumito, nisi vocatus_: let no man presume to be an undertaker, unless he have a _vocation_--unless he be _called_. If these are not the words of Puddifant, to whom I shall presently refer, I have no other conjecture to offer. Though, when a boy, I had a sort of hankering after dead men's bones, as I have already related, I never felt myself truly called to be a s.e.xton, until June, 1799. It was in that month and year, that Governor Sumner was buried. The parade was very great, not only because he had been a Governor, but because he had been a very good man. All the s.e.xtons were on duty, but Lutton, as we called him--his real name was Lemuel Ludden. He was the s.e.xton of the Old Brick, where my parents had worshipped, under dear parson Clarke, who died, the year before. He had the cleverest way, that man ever had, of winning little boys' hearts--he really seemed to have the key to their little souls. Lutton was sick--he was not able to officiate, on that memorable day; and no recently appointed ensign ever felt such a privation more keenly, on the very day of battle. He was a whole-souled s.e.xton, that Lutton. He, most obligingly, took me into the Old Brick Church, where Joy's buildings now stand, to see the show. There was a half-crazy simpleton, whom it was difficult to prevent from capering before the corpse--a perfect Davie Gelatly. An awkward boy, whose name was Reuben Rankin, came from Salem, with a small cart-load of pies, which his mother had baked, and sent to Boston, hoping for a ready sale, upon the occasion of such an a.s.semblage there. Like Grouchy, at Waterloo, he lost his _tete_; followed the procession, through every street; and returned to Salem, with all his wares.

It was, while contemplating the high satisfaction, beaming forth, upon the features of the chief undertaker, that I first felt my _vocation_. I ventured, timidly, to ask old Lutton, if he thought I had talents for the office. He said, he thought I might succeed, clapped me on the shoulder, and gave me a smile of encouragement, which I never shall forget, till my poor old arm can wield a spade no more, and the sod, which I have so frequently turned upon others, shall be turned upon me.

Old Grossman said, in my hearing, the following morning, that it had been the proudest day of his life. It is very pardonable, for an undertaker, on such occasions, to imagine himself the observed of all observers. This fancy is, by no means, confined to undertakers. Chief mourners of both s.e.xes are very liable to the same impression. An over-estimate of one's own importance is pretty universal, especially in a republic. I never did go the length of believing the tale, related, by Peter, in his letter to his kinsfolk, who says he knew a Scotch weaver, who sat upon his stoop, and read the Edinburgh Review, till he actually thought he wrote it. I see nothing to smile at, in any man's belief, that he is the object of public attention, on occasions of parade and pageantry. It rather indicates the deep interest of the individual--a solemn sense of responsibility. At the late water celebration, I noticed many examples of this species of personal enthusiasm. The drivers of the Oak Hall and Sarsaparilla expresses were no mean ill.u.s.trations; and when three cheers were given to the elephant, near the Museum, in Tremont Street, I was pleased to see several of the officials, and one, at least, of the water commissioners, touch their hats, and smile most graciously, in return.

Puddifant, to whom I have alluded, officiated as s.e.xton, at the funeral of Charles I. What a broad field, for painful contemplation, lies here! It is a curious fact, that, while preparations were being made, for depositing the body of King Charles in St. George's Chapel, at Windsor, a common foot soldier is supposed to have stolen a bone from the coffin of Henry VIII., for the purpose of making a knife-handle. This account is so curious, that I give it entire from Wood's Athenae Oxonienses, folio edit. vol. ii., p.

703. "Those gentlemen, therefore, Herbert and Mildmay, thinking fit to submit, and leave the choice of the place of burial to those great persons, (the Duke of Richmond, Marquis of Hertford, and Earl of Lindsey) they, in like manner, viewed the tomb house and the choir; and one of the Lords, beating gently upon the pavement with his staff, perceived a hollow sound; and, thereupon ordering the stones to be removed, they discovered a descent into a vault, where two coffins were laid, near one another, the one very large, of an antique form, and the other little. These they supposed to be the bodies of Henry VIII., and his third wife, Queen Jane Seymour, as indeed they were. The velvet palls, that covered their coffins, seemed fresh, though they had lain there, above one hundred years. The Lords agreeing, that the King's body should be in the same vault interred, being about the middle of the choir, over against the eleventh stall, upon the sovereign's side, they gave orders to have the King's name, and year he died, cut in lead; which, whilst the workmen were about, the Lords went out, and gave Puddifant, the s.e.xton, order to lock the chapel door, and not suffer any to stay therein, till further notice."

"The s.e.xton did his best to clear the chapel; nevertheless, Isaac, the s.e.xton's man, said that a foot soldier had hid himself so as he was not discovered; and, being greedy of prey, crept into the vault, and cut so much of the velvet pall, that covered the great body, as he judged would hardly be missed, and wimbled a hole through the said coffin that was largest, probably fancying that there was something well worth his adventure. The s.e.xton, at his opening the door, espied the sacrilegious person; who, being searched, a bone was found about him, with which he said he would haft a knife. The girdle or circ.u.mscription of capital letters of lead put upon the King's coffin had only these words--King Charles, 1648." This statement perfectly agrees with Sir Henry Halford's account of the examination, April 1, 1813, in presence of the Prince Regent.

Cromwell had a splendid funeral: good old John Evelyn saw it all, and describes it in his diary--the waxen effigy, lying in royal robes, upon a velvet bed of state, with crown, sceptre and globe--in less than two years suspended with a rope round the neck, from a window at Whitehall. Evelyn says, the "funeral was the joyfullest ever seen: none cried but the dogs, which the soldiers hooted away with a barbarous noise, drinking and taking tobacco in the streets as they went." Some have said that Cromwell's body was privately buried, by his own request, in the field of Naseby: others, that it was sunk in the Thames, to prevent insult. It was not so. When, upon the restoration, it was decided, to reverse the popular sentiment, Oliver's body was sought, in the middle aisle of Henry VII's chapel, and there it was found. A thin case of lead lay upon the breast, containing a copper plate, finely gilt, and thus inscribed--Oliverius, Protector reipublicae Angliae, Scotiae, et Hiberniae, natus 25 April, 1599--inauguratus 16 Decembris 1653--mortuus 3 Septembris ann--1658. Hic situs est. This plate, in 1773, was in possession of the Hon George Hobart of Nocton in Lincolnshire. By a vote of the House of Commons, Cromwell's and Ireton's bodies were taken up, Jan. 26, 1660--and, on the Monday night following, they were drawn, on two carts, to the Red Lion Inn, Holborn, where they remained all night; and, with Bradshaw's, which was not exhumed, till the day after, conveyed, on sledges, to Tyburn, and hanged on the gallows, till sunset. They were then beheaded--the trunks were buried in a hole, near the gallows, and their heads set on poles, on the top of Westminster Hall, where Cromwell's long remained.

The treatment of Oliver's character has been in perfect keeping, with the treatment of his carca.s.s. The extremes of censure and of praise have been showered upon his name. He has been canonized, and cursed. The most judicious writers have expressed their views of his character, in well-balanced phrases. Cardinal Mazarin styled him _a fortunate mad-man_; and, by Father Orleans, he was called a _judicious villain_. The opinion of impartial men will probably vary very little from that of Clarendon, through all time: he says of Cromwell--"he was one of those men, _quos vituperare ne inimici quidem possunt, nisi ut simul laudent_;" and again, vol. vii. 301, Oxford ed. 1826: "In a word, as he was guilty of many crimes, against which d.a.m.nation is denounced, and for which h.e.l.l-fire is prepared, so he had some good qualities, which have caused the memory of some men, in all ages, to be celebrated; and he will be looked upon by posterity as _a brave wicked man_." Oliver had the nerve to do what most men could not: he went to look upon the corpse of the beheaded king--opened the coffin with his own hand--and put his finger to the neck, where it had been severed. _He could not then doubt that Charles was dead._

At the same time, when the authorized absurdities were perpetrated upon Oliver's body, every effort was ineffectually made to discover that of King Charles, for the purpose of paying to it the highest honors. This occurred at the time of the restoration, or about ten years after the death of Charles I. In 1813, i. e. one hundred and sixty-five years after that event, the body was accidentally discovered. To this fact, and to the examination by Sir Henry Halford, President of the Royal College of Physicians, I shall refer in my next.

No. XL.

The pa.s.sage, quoted in my last, from the Athenae Oxonienses, shows plainly, that Charles I. was buried in 1648, in the same vault with the bodies of Henry VIII. and Jane Seymour; and this statement is perfectly sustained, by the remarkable discovery in 1813, which proves Lord Clarendon to have been mistaken in his account, Hist. Reb., Oxford ed., vol. vi. p. 243. The Duke of Richmond, the Marquis of Hertford, and the Earls of Southampton and Lindsey, who had been of the bed chamber, and had obtained leave, to perform the last duty to the decollated king, went into the church, at Windsor, to seek a place for the interment, and were greatly perplexed, by the mutilations and changes there--"At last," says Clarendon, "there was a fellow of the town, who undertook to tell them the place, where he said there was a vault, in which King Harry, the Eighth, and Queen Jane Seymour were interred. As near that place, as could conveniently be, they caused the grave to be made. There the king's body was laid, without any words, or other ceremonies, than the tears and sighs of the few beholders. Upon the coffin was a plate of silver fixed with these words only: 'King Charles, 1648.' When the coffin was put in, the black velvet pall, that had covered it, was thrown over it, and then the earth thrown in." _Such, clearly, could not have been the facts._