------------ridentem dicere verum Quid vetat?

The serious writings of Dr. Byles are singularly free from everything, suggestive of frivolous a.s.sociation. In his pulpit, there was none of it; not a jot; while, out of it, unless on solemn occasions, there was very little else. I have heard from those, who knew him well, that he ransacked the whole vocabulary, in search of the materials for punning. Yet of his attempts, in this species of humor, few examples are remembered. The specimens of the wit and humor of this eccentric divine, which have been preserved, are often of a different character; and not a few of them of that description, which are called practical jokes. Some of these pleasantries were exceedingly clever, and others supremely ridiculous. It is now more than half a century, since I listened to the first, amusing anecdote of Mather Byles. Many have reached me since--some of them quite as clever, as any we have ever had--I will not say from Foote, or Hook, or Matthews; for such unclerical comparisons would be particularly odious--but quite as clever as anything from Jonathan Swift, or Sydney Smith. Suppose I convert my next number into a penny box, for the collection and safe keeping of these petty records--I know they are below the dignity of history--so is a very large proportion of all the thoughts, words, and actions of Kings and Emperors--I'll think of it.

No. XCIV.

There were political sympathies, during the American Revolution, between that eminent physician and excellent man, Dr. James Lloyd, and Mather Byles; yet, some forty-three years ago, I heard Dr. Lloyd remark, that, in company, the Reverend Mather Byles was a most troublesome puppy; and that there was no peace for his punning. Dr. Lloyd was, doubtless, of opinion, with Lord Kaimes, who remarked, in relation to this inveterate habit, that few might object to a little salt upon their plates, but the man must have an extraordinary appet.i.te, who could make a meal of it.

The daily employment of our mental powers, for the discovery of words, which agree in sound, but differ in sense, is a species of intellectual huckstering, well enough adapted to the capacities of those, who are unfit for business, on a larger scale. If this occupation could be made _to pay_, many an oysterman would be found, forsaking his calling, and successfully competing with those, who will not suffer ten words to be uttered, in their company, without converting five of them, at least, to this preposterous purpose.

No conversation can be so grave, or so solemn, as to secure it from the rude and impertinent interruption of some one of these pleasant fellows; who seem to employ their little gift upon the community, as a species of laughing gas. A little of this may be well enough; but, like musk, in the gross, it is absolutely suffocating.

The first story, that I ever heard, of Mather Byles, was related, at my father's table, by the Rev. Dr. Belknap, in 1797, the year before he died.

It was upon a Sat.u.r.day; and Dr. John Clarke and some other gentlemen, among whom I well remember Major General Lincoln, ate their salt fish there, that day. I was a boy; and I remember their mirth, when, after Dr.

Belknap had told the story, I said to our minister, Dr. Clarke, near whom I was eating my apple, that I wished he was half as funny a minister, as Dr. Byles.

Upon a Fast day, Dr. Byles had negotiated an exchange, with a country clergyman. Upon the appointed morning, each of them--for vehicles were not common then--proceeded, on horseback, to his respective place of appointment. Dr. Byles no sooner observed his brother clergyman approaching, at a distance, than he applied the whip; put his horse into a gallop; and, with his canonicals flying all abroad, pa.s.sed his friend, at full run. "_What is the matter?_" he exclaimed, raising his hand in astonishment--"_Why so fast, brother Byles?_"--to which the Dr., without slackening his speed, replied, over his shoulder--"_It is Fast day!_"

This is, unquestionably, very funny--but it is surely undesirable, for a consecrated servant of the Lord, thus lavishly to sacrifice, upon the altars of Momus.

The distillery of Thomas Hill was at the corner of Ess.e.x and South Streets, not far from Dr. Belknap's residence in Lincoln Street. Dr. Byles called on Mr. Hill, and inquired--"Do you still?"--"That is my business,"

Mr. Hill replied.--"Then," said Dr. Byles--"will you go with me, and still my wife?"

As he was once occupied, in nailing some list upon his doors, to exclude the cold, a parishioner said to him--"the wind bloweth wheresoever it listeth, Dr. Byles."--"Yes sir," replied the Dr. "and man listeth, wheresoever the wind bloweth."

He was intimate with General Knox, who was a bookseller, before the war.

When the American troops took possession of the town, after the evacuation, Knox, who had become quite corpulent, marched in, at the head of his artillery. As he pa.s.sed on, Byles, who thought himself privileged, on old scores, exclaimed, loud enough to be heard--"_I never saw an ox fatter in my life_." But Knox was not in the vein. He felt offended by this freedom, especially from Byles, who was then well known to be a tory; and replied, in uncourtly terms, that he was a "---- fool."

In May, 1777, Dr. Byles was arrested, as a tory, and subsequently tried, convicted, and sentenced to confinement, on board a guard ship, and to be sent to England with his family, in forty days. This sentence was changed, by the board of war, to confinement in his own house. A guard was placed over him. After a time, the sentinel was removed--afterwards replaced--and again removed--when the Dr. exclaimed, that _he had been guarded--regarded--and disregarded_. He called his sentry his _observ-a-tory_.

Perceiving, one morning, that the sentinel, a simple fellow, was absent, and seeing Dr. Byles himself, pacing before his own door, with a musket on his shoulder, the neighbors stepped over, to inquire the cause--"_You see_," said the Dr., "_I begged the sentinel to let me go for some milk for my family, but he would not suffer me to stir. I reasoned the matter with him; and he has gone, himself, to get it for me, on condition that I keep guard in his absence._"

When he was very poor, and had no money to waste on follies, he caused the little room, in which he read and wrote, to be painted brown, that he might say to every visitor--"_You see I am in a brown study_."

His family, having gone to rest, were roused one night, by the reiterated cry of _thieves!--thieves!_ in the doctor's loudest voice--the wife and daughters sprang instantly from their beds, and rushed into the room--there sat the Dr. alone, in his study chair--"_Where, father?_"

cried the astonished family--"_there!_" he exclaimed, pointing to the candles.

One bitter December night, he called his daughters from their bed, simply to inquire if they lay warm.

He had a small collection of curiosities. Some visitors called, one morning; and Mrs. Byles, unwilling to be found at her ironing board, and desiring to hide herself, as she would not be so caught, by these ladies, for the world, the doctor put her in a closet, and b.u.t.toned her in. After a few remarks, the ladies expressed a wish to see the Dr's curiosities, which he proceeded to exhibit; and, after entertaining them very agreeably, for several hours, he told them he had kept the greatest curiosity to the last; and, proceeding to the closet, unb.u.t.toned the door, and exhibited Mrs. Byles.

He had complained, long, often, and fruitlessly, to the selectmen, of a quagmire, in front of his dwelling. One morning, two of the fathers of the town, after a violent rain, pa.s.sing with their chaise, became stuck in this bog. As they were striving to extricate themselves, and pulling to the right and to the left, the doctor came forth, and bowing, with great politeness, exclaimed--"_I am delighted, gentlemen, to see you stirring in this matter, at last_."

A candidate for fame proposed to fly, from the North Church steeple, and had already mounted, and was clapping his wings, to the great delight of the mob. Dr. Byles, mingling with the crowd, inquired what was the object of the gathering--"_We have come, sir_," said some one, "_to see a man fly_."--"_Poh, poh_," replied the doctor, "_I have seen a horse-fly_."

A gentleman sent Dr. Byles a barrel of very fine oysters. Meeting the gentleman's wife, an hour or two after, in the street, the doctor a.s.sumed an air of great severity, and told her, that he had, that morning, been treated, by her husband, in a most _Billingsgate_ manner, and then abruptly left her. The lady, who was of a nervous temperament, went home in tears, and was quite miserable, till her husband returned, at noon, and explained the occurrence; but was so much offended with the doctor's folly, that he cut his acquaintance.

A poor fellow, in agony with the toothache, meeting the doctor, asked him where he should go, to have it drawn. The doctor gave him a direction to a particular street and number. The man went, as directed; and, when the occupant came to the door, told him that Dr. Byles had sent him there, to have his tooth drawn. "_This is a poor joke, for Dr. Byles_," said the gentleman; "_I am not a dentist, but a portrait painter--it will give you little comfort, my friend, to have me draw your tooth_." Dr. Byles had sent the poor fellow to Copley.

Upon the 19th of May, 1780, the memorable dark day, a lady wrote to the doctor as follows--"_Dear doctor, how do you account for this darkness?_"

and received his immediate reply--"_Dear Madam, I am as much in the dark, as you are_." This, for sententious brevity, has never been surpa.s.sed, unless by the correspondence, between the comedian, Sam Foote, and his mother--"_Dear Sam, I'm in jail_"--"_Dear Mother, So am I._"

He had, at one time, a remarkably stupid, and literal, Irish girl, as a domestic. With a look and voice of terror, he said to her, in haste--"_Go and say to your mistress, Dr. Byles has put an end to himself_." The girl flew up stairs, and, with a face of horror, exclaimed, at the top of her lungs--"_Dr. Byles has put an end to himself!_" The astonished wife and daughters rushed into the parlor--and there was the doctor, calmly walking about, with a part of a cow's tail, that he had picked up, in the street, tied to his coat, or ca.s.sock, behind.

From the time of the stamp act, in 1765, to the period of the revolution, the cry had been repeated, in every form of phraseology, that our _grievances_ should be _redressed_. One fine morning, when the mult.i.tude had gathered on the Common, to see a regiment of red coats, paraded there, who had recently arrived--"_Well_," said the doctor, gazing at the spectacle, "_I think we can no longer complain_, that our _grievances_ are not _red dressed_." "_True_," said one of the laughers, who were standing near, "_but you have two ds, Dr. Byles_." "_To be sure, sir, I have_," the doctor instantly replied, "I had them from _Aberdeen_, in 1765."

These pleasantries will, probably, survive "THE CONFLAGRATION." Had not this eccentric man possessed some very excellent and amiable qualities, he could not have maintained his clerical relation to the Hollis-Street Church and Society, for three and forty years, from 1733 to 1776; and have separated from them, at last, for political considerations alone.

Had his talents and his influence been greater than they were, the peculiarities, to which I have alluded, would have been a theme, for deeper deprecation. The eccentricities of eminent men are mischievous, in the ratio of their eminence; for thousands, who cannot rival their excellencies, are often the successful imitators of their peculiarities and follies.

I never sympathized with that worthy, old lady, who became satisfied, that Dr. Beecher was a terrible hypocrite, and without a spark of vital religion, because she saw him, from her window, on the Lord's day, in his back yard, gymnasticising, on a pole, in the intermission season; and thereby invigorating his powers, for the due performance of the evening services. Yet, as character is power, and as the children of this generation have a devilish pleasure in detecting inconsistencies, between the practice and the profession of the children of light--it is ever to be deplored, that clergymen should hazard one iota of their clerical respectability, for the love of fun; and it speaks marvels, for the moral and religious worth of Mather Byles, and for the forbearance, intelligence, and discrimination of his parishioners, that, for three-and-forty years, he maintained his ministerial position, in their midst, cutting such wild, unpriestly capers, and giving utterance to such amusing fooleries, from morning to night.

No. XCV.

I have already referred to the subject of being buried alive. There is something very terrible in the idea; and I am compelled, by some recent information, to believe, that occurrences of this distressing nature are more common, than I have hitherto supposed them to be.

Not long ago, I fell into the society of a veteran, maiden lady, who, in the course of her evening revelations of the gossip she had gathered in the morning, informed the company, that an entire family, consisting of a husband, wife, and seven children, were buried alive.

You have heard, or read, I doubt not, of that eminent French surgeon, who, while standing by the bedside of his dying friend and patron, utterly forgot all his professional cares and duties, in his exceeding great joy, at beholding, for the first time in his life, the genuine Sardonic grin, exhibited upon the distorted features of his dying benefactor. For a moment, my sincere sorrow, for the terrible fate of this interesting family, was utterly forgotten, in the delight I experienced, at the prospect of receiving such an interesting item, for my dealings with the dead.

My tablets were out, in an instant--and, drawing my chair near that of this communicative lady, I requested a relation of all the particulars. My astonishment was very much increased, when she a.s.serted, that they had actually buried themselves--and my utter disappointment--as an artist--can scarcely be conceived, when she added, that the whole family had gone to reside permanently in the country, giving up plays, concerts, b.a.l.l.s, soirees and operas.

Putting up my tablets, with a feeling of displeasure, illy concealed, I ventured to suggest, that opportunities, for intellectual improvement, were not wanting in the country; and that, perhaps, this worthy family preferred the enjoyment of rural quiet, to the miscellaneous cries of fire--oysters--and murder. She replied, that she had rather be murdered outright, than live in the country--listen to the frogs, from morning to night--and watch the progress of cuc.u.mbers and squashes.

Seriously, this matter of being buried alive, is very unpleasant. The dead, the half-dead, and the dying, were brutally neglected, in the earlier days of Greece. Diogenes Laertius, lib. 8, _de vita et moribus philosophorum_, relates, that Empedocles, having restored Ponthia, a woman of Agrigentum, to life, who was on the point of being buried, laws began to be enacted, for the protection of the apparent dead. At Athens, no one could be buried, before the third day; and, commonly, throughout all Greece, burial and cremation were deferred, till the sixth or seventh day.

Alexander kept Hephestion's body, till the tenth day. I have referred, in a former number, to the remarkable cases of Aviola and the Praetor Lamia, who revived, after being placed on the funeral pile. Another Praetor, Tubero, was saved, at the moment, when the torch was about to be applied.

I have also alluded to the act of Asclepiades, who, in disregard of the ridicule of the bystanders, stopped a funeral procession, and reanimated the body, about to be burnt.

A perusal of the _Somnium Scipionis_, and of the accounts of Hilda.n.u.s, Camerarius, and Horstius--of Plato, in his Republic--and of Valerius Maximus, will satisfy the reader, that premature burials were, by no means, uncommon, of old.

The idea of reviving in one's coffin--one of Fisk and Raymond's "_Patent Metallic Burial Cases, Air-Tight and Indestructible_"--is really awful!

How truly, upon such an awakening as this, the wretch must wish he had been born a savage--a Mandan of the upper Missouri--neither to be burnt nor buried--but placed upon a mat, supported by poles--aloof from the accursed wolves and undertakers--with a reasonable supply of pemmican and corncake, and a calabash of water, by his side!

The dread of such an occurrence has induced some very sensible people, to prefer cremation to earth and tomb burial. Of this we have a remarkable example, in our own country. An infant daughter of Henry Laurens, the first President of Congress, had, to all appearance, died of the small pox. She was, accordingly, laid out, and prepared for the grave. A window, which, during her illness, had been kept carefully closed, having been opened after the body was shrouded, and a stream of air blowing freshly into the apartment, the child revived, and the robes of death were joyfully exchanged, for her ordinary garments. This event naturally produced a strong impression, upon the father's mind. By his will, Mr.

Laurens enjoined it upon his children, as a solemn duty, that his body should be burnt; and this injunction was duly fulfilled.

In former numbers, I have referred the reader to various authorities, upon this interesting subject. I will offer a brief quotation from a sensible writer--"According to the present usage, as soon as the semblance of death appears, the chamber is deserted, by friends, relatives, and physicians, and the apparently dead, though frequently living, body is committed to the management of an ignorant or unfeeling nurse, whose care extends no further than laying the limbs straight, and securing her accustomed perquisites. The bed clothes are immediately removed, and the body is exposed to the air. This, _when cold_, must extinguish any spark of life, that may remain, and which, by a different treatment, might have been kindled into a flame; or it may only continue to repress it, and the unhappy person revive amidst the horrors of the tomb."--"Coldness, heaviness of the body, a leaden, livid color, with a yellowness in the visage," says the same author, "are all very uncertain signs." Mr.

Zimmerman observed them all, upon the body of a criminal, who fainted, through the dread of the punishment he had merited. He was shaken, dragged about, and turned, in the same manner dead bodies are, without the least sign of resistance: and yet, at the end of twenty-four hours, he was recalled to life, by means of volatile alkali.

In 1777, Dr. William Hawes, the founder of the Humane Society in London, published an address, on premature interment. This is a curious and valuable performance. I cannot here withhold the statement, that this excellent man, before the formation of the Humane Society, for several years, offered rewards, and paid them from his own purse, for the rescue of persons from drowning, between Westminster and London bridge. Dr. Hawes remarks, that the appearance of death has often been mistaken for the reality, in apoplectic, and fainting fits, and those, arising from any violent agitation of the mind, and from the free use of opium and spirituous liquors. Children, he observes, have often been restored, who have apparently died in convulsions. In case of fevers, in weak habits, or when the cure has been chiefly attempted, by means of depletion, the patient often sinks into a state, resembling death; and the friends, in the opinion of Dr. Hawes, have been fatally deceived. In small pox, he remarks, when the pustules sink, and death apparently ensues, means of restoration should by no means be neglected.

In Lord Bacon's _Historia Vitae et Mortis_, a pa.s.sage occurs, commencing--"Complura fuerunt exempla hominum, tanquam mortuorum, aut expositorum e lecto, aut delatorum ad funus, quinetiam nonnullorum in terra conditorum, qui nihilominus revixerunt," etc. But the pa.s.sage is rather long, and in a dead language; and my professional experience has admonished me to be economical of s.p.a.ce, and to occupy, for every dead subject, long or short, as little room, as possible. I therefore give an English version, of whose sufficiency the reader may judge, by glancing at the original, vol. viii. p. 447, Lond. 1824.--There were many examples, says Lord Bacon, of men, supposed to be dead, taken from their beds as corpses, or borne to their graves, some of them actually buried, who, nevertheless, revived. This fact, in regard to such as were buried, has been proved, upon re-opening their graves; by the bruises and wounds upon their heads; and by the manifest evidences of tossing about, and struggling in their coffins. John Scott, a man of genius, and a scholar, furnishes a very recent and remarkable example; who, shortly after his burial, was disinterred, and found, in that condition, by his servant, who was absent at the time of Mr. Scott's interment, and well acquainted, it seems, with those symptoms of catalepsy, to which he was liable.