The true value of an enlightened conscience may be duly estimated by him, who has enjoyed the luxury of travelling in the dark, with the a.s.sistance of a lantern, without a candle. A man, who has a very strong sense of duty, and very little common sense, is apt to be a very troublesome fellow; for he is likely to unite the stupidity of an a.s.s with the obstinacy of a mule. Yet such there are; and, however inconvenient, individually, the evil is immeasurably increased, when they become gregarious, and form a party, for any purpose whatever. Such conscience parties have existed, in every age and nation. A few individuals, of higher intelligence, dissatisfied with their civil, political, military, religious, or literary importance, and fatally bent upon distinction, are necessary to elevate some enormous green cheese high in the firmament, and persuade their followers, that it is neither more nor less than the moon, at full. Herod was the great director of that conscience party, that believed it to be their bounden duty, to murder all the little children in Judea, under a certain age. The terrible sacrifice, on St. Bartholomew's eve, was conducted by a conscience party. The burnings and starvings, in b.l.o.o.d.y Mary's reign, were planned and executed, by a conscience party. In no country has conscience been so very rampant, as in Ireland, from the days of Heremon and King Olam Fodla, to the present hour. Almost every reader is aware how conscientiously Archbishop Sharp was murdered, in presence of his daughter, in Scotland.

The widows of Hindostan, when they attempt to escape from the funeral pile, on which their late husbands are burning, are driven back into the flames, by a conscience party. It is well known, that certain inhabitants of India deposit their aged and decrepit parents, upon the very margin of the river, that the rising waters may bear them away. This is not the act of a few individuals; but the common practice, clearly indicating the existence of a conscience party, who undoubtedly believe they are acting, in a most filial and dutiful manner, and doing the very best thing in the world, for all parties. Infanticide is tolerated in China. Very little account is made of female babies there. This has been doubted and denied.

Doubt and denial are of no use. There is a conscience party there, who believe it to be their duty to their male babies, to drown the females, unless they are pretty, and then they have a chance for life, in being sold for concubines. Among the numerous and best modern authorities, on this point, is Gutzlaff, whose voyages, along the coast of China, were published, in London, 1834. "At the beach of Amoy," says he, "we were shocked, at the spectacle of a pretty, new-born babe, which, shortly before, had been killed. We asked some of the bystanders what this meant; they answered with indifference, 'it is only a girl.'" On page 174, Gutzlaff remarks, "It is a general custom among them to drown a large proportion of their new-born female children. This unnatural crime is so common, that it is perpetrated, without any feeling, and even in a laughing mood; and, to ask a man of distinction, whether he has daughters, is a mark of great rudeness." Earle, in his narrative of New Zealand, London, 1832, states that the practice existed there.

The insurrection of Shays, in this Commonwealth, in 1787, was a matter of conscience, beyond all doubt. He and many of his a.s.sociates believed themselves a conscience party. After General Lincoln had suppressed the rebellion, great lenity was shown to the prisoners--not an individual was executed--and Shays, who died in 1825, at the age of 85, was even pensioned, in his old age, for his prior services in the revolution.

The revolt of the Pennsylvania line, in 1781, was, I admit, less an affair of the conscience, than of the stomach and bowels; for the poor fellows were nearly starved to death. The insurrection under Fries, commonly called the whiskey rebellion, in Western Pennsylvania, in 1792, was a different affair. A conscience party resolved to drink nothing but untaxed whiskey--they conscientiously believed the flavor to be utterly ruined, by the excise. It is certain, that, when General Washington moved against the rebels, there was conscience enough, among them, to make cowards of them all, for they scattered, in all directions.

A conscience party existed, in the early settlement of our country, when our pious ancestors, having fled to the howling wilderness, that they might enjoy liberty of thought, on religious subjects, began to hang the poor Quakers, for the glory of G.o.d.

Never before had there been such a conscience party in Ma.s.sachusetts, as from 1689 to 1693. It was then Cotton Mather exclaimed from the pulpit, that witchcraft was the "most nefandous high treason against the Majesty on high." It was then, that he satisfied himself, by repeated trials, that devils were skilled in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. It was then, that they hanged old women, for riding on broomsticks through the air; a mode of conveyance, which Lord Mansfield declared, long after, to be perfectly lawful, for all who preferred that mode of equitation.

A conscience party has recently appeared, in this country, which it is not easy to describe. Every other party seems to have contributed to its formation. It is a sort of political mosaic, made up of tag, rag, and bobtail. Some of the prominent members of this party were whigs, but yesterday; and yet they have put forth all their energies, to elect, as president, a man, whom they and all other whigs have hitherto opposed, and denounced, and who, it was manifest, from the beginning, could not possibly be elected. This man has been accounted, by the whigs, a political charlatan; and all that he has done, to obtain the support of this conscience party, such of them at least, as were once whigs, is to avow certain sentiments, on the subject of slavery, the very contrary of those, which he has. .h.i.therto maintained, most openly and zealously. No grave and reflecting whig puts any more confidence, in the promises of this political spin-b.u.t.ton, than he would put, in the words of Nicholas Machiavelli. Nor could this candidate do more to check the progress of slavery, than every honest whig believes will be done, by the candidate of their party, who certainly resembles Washington, in three particulars; he is himself a slaveholder--he is an honest man--and he wears the same political phylactery, "_I will be the president of the people, not of a party_."

In consideration of the limit of power, neither of these candidates can do more than the other, for the object in view, if they were equally honest, which n.o.body dreams of, unless he dreams in Sleepy Hollow. If there had been an anti-cholera party, Van Buren might have commanded suffrages, as sensibly, by pledging himself to do all in his power, to prevent its extension. The remaining candidate, it is agreed, would, if elected, have turned the hopes, one and all, of both whig and conscience parties topsy-turvy. His election, it is clear, was made more probable, by every vote, given by a whig to that candidate, whose election was clearly impossible. These irregular whigs, have, therefore, spent their ammunition, as profitably, as the old covenanter spent his, who fired a horse pistol against the walls of Sterling Castle. Such is the conscience party.

When I refer to the universal consent of the whigs, during the former canva.s.s for Martin Van Buren, that he was, politically, the very devil incarnate; and, in making a selection of those, who were the loudest, and longest, and the most vehement of his antagonists, find them to be the very leaders of the present movement, in his favor; I am reminded of Peter Pindar's pleasant story of the chambermaid and the spider; and, not having my copy of Peter at hand, I will endeavor to relate the tale in prose, as well as I am able.

A chambermaid, in going her rounds, observed an enormous spider, black and bloated, so far from his hole of refuge, that, lifting her broom, she exclaimed, "Now, you ugly brute, I have you! You are such a sly, cunning knave, and have such a happy non-committal way with you, that I never have been able to catch you before; for, the moment I raised my broom, you were out of sight, forsooth, and perfectly safe, in that Kinderhook of a hole of yours--but, now prepare yourself, for your hour has come." The spider turned every one of his eight eyes down upon the chambermaid, and, extending his two forelegs in a beseeching manner, calmly replied, "Strike, peerless maid, but hear me! I have given you infinite trouble, and have been a very bad fellow, I admit. Crafty and cruel, I have been an unmitigated oppressor of flies, and all inferior insects. I have sucked their blood, and lived upon their marrow. But now my conscience has awakened, and I am in favor of letting flies go free. It is not in quest of flies, that I am here, sweet maid; (and then he seemed perfectly convulsed;) I am changed at heart, and become a new spider. Pardon me for speaking the truth; my only object, in being here, is, from this elevated spot, to survey your incomparable charms." The chambermaid lowered her broom; and gently said, as she walked away, "Well, a spider is not such a horrid creature, after all."

I may be thought, in these remarks, to have offended against the dictum--_ne sutor ultra crepidam_. Surely I am not guilty--my dealings are with _the dead_. Perhaps I am mistaken. The conscience party may not be dead, but cataleptic--destined to rise again--to fall more feebly than before.

No. x.x.x.

Funerals, in the earlier days of Rome, must have been very showy affairs.

They were torch-light processions, by night. You will gather some information, on this subject, by consulting a note of Servius, on Virg.

aen. xi. 143. Cicero, de legibus, ii. 26, says, that Demetrius ordered nocturnal funerals, to check the taste for extravagance, in these matters: "Iste igitur sumptum minuit, non solum poena, sed etiam tempore; ante lucem enim jussit efferri." A more ancient law, of similar import, will be found recited, in the oration of Demosthenes, against Macartatus, viii., 82, Dove's London ed. Orat. Attici. _Funes_ or _funiculi_ were small ropes or cords, covered with wax or tallow; such were the torches, used on such occasions; hence the word _funus_ or funeral. A confirmation of this may be found in the note of Servius, aen. i. 727. In a later age, funerals were celebrated in the forenoon.

There were some things done, at ancient funerals, which would be accounted very extraordinary at the present day. What should we say to a stuffed effigy of the defunct, composed entirely of cinnamon, and paraded in the procession! Plutarch says; "Such was the quant.i.ty of spices brought in by the women, at Sylla's funeral, that, exclusive of those carried in two hundred and ten great baskets, a figure of Sylla at full length, and of a lictor besides, was made entirely of cinnamon, and the choicest frankincense."

At the head of Roman funerals, came the _tibicines_, pipers, and trumpeters, immediately following the _designator_, or undertaker, and the lictors, dressed in black. Next came the "praeficae, quae dabant caeteris modum plangendi." These were women hired to mourn, and sing the funeral song, who are popularly termed _howlers_. To this practice Horace alludes, in his Art of Poetry:

Ut, qui conducti plorant in funere, dic.u.n.t, Et faciunt prope plura dolentibus ex animo--

which Francis well translates:

As hirelings, paid for the funereal tear, Outweep the sorrows of a friend sincere.

I once witnessed an exhibition of this kind, in one of the West India Islands. A planter's funeral occurred, at Christianstadt, the west end of Santa Cruz. After the corpse had been lowered into the grave, a wild ululation arose, from the mouths of some hundred slaves, who had followed from the plantation--"Oh, what good ma.s.sa he was--good, dear, old ma.s.sa gone--no poor slave eber hab such kind ma.s.sa--no more any such good, kind ma.s.sa come agin." I noticed one hard-favored fellow, who made a terrible noise, and upon whose features, as he turned the whites of his big eyes up toward heaven, there was a sinister, and, now and then, rather a comical expression, and who, when called to a.s.sist in filling up, appeared to throw on the earth, as if he did it from the heart.

After the work was done, I called him aside. "You have lost an excellent master," said I. The fellow looked warily round, and, perceiving that he was not overheard, replied, in an undertone--"No ma.s.sa, he bad mule--big old villain--me glad the debble got him." Having thus relieved himself of his feelings, he hastened to join the gang, and I soon saw him, as they filed off, on their way back to the plantation, throwing his brawny arms aloft, and joining in the cry--"Oh, what kind, good ma.s.sa he was!" Upon inquiry, I learned, that this planter was a very bad mule indeed, a merciless old taskmaster.

Not more than ten flute players were allowed, at a funeral, by the Twelve Tables. The flutes and trumpets were large and of lugubrious tones; thus Ovid, Fast. vi. 660: Cantabat moestis tibia funeribus; and Am. ii. 66: Pro longa resonent carmina vestra tuba.

Nothing appears more incomprehensible, in connection with this subject, than the employment of players and buffoons, by the ancients, at their funerals. This practice is referred to, by Suetonius, in his Life of Tiberius, sec. 57. We are told by Dyonisius, vii. 72, that these Ludii, Histriones, and Scurrae danced and sang. One of this cla.s.s of performers was a professed mimic, and was styled _Archimimus_. Strange as such a proceeding may appear to us, it was his business, to imitate the voice, manner, and gestures of the defunct; he supported the dead man's character, and repeated his words and sayings. In the Life of Vespasian, sec. 19, Suetonius thus describes the proceeding: In funere, Favor, archimimus, personam ejus ferens, imitansque, ut est mos, facta ac dicta vivi, etc. This Favor must have been a comical fellow, and is as free with the dead, as Killigrew, Charles the Second's jester, was, with the living; as the reader will perceive, if he will refer to the pa.s.sage in Suetonius: for the fellow openly cracks his jokes, on the absurd expense of the funeral. This, we should suppose, was no subject for joking, if we may believe the statement of Pliny, x.x.xiii. 47, that one C. Caecillius Claudius, a private citizen, left rather more than nine thousand pounds sterling, by his will, for his funeral expenses.

After the archimimus, came the freemen of the deceased, _pileati_; that is, wearing their caps of liberty. Men, not unfrequently, as a last act, to swell their funeral train, freed their slaves. Before the corpse, were carried the images of the defunct and of his ancestors, but not of such, as had been found guilty of any heinous crime. Thus Tacitus, ii. 32, relates, that the image of Libo was not permitted to accompany the obsequies of any of his posterity.

The origin of the common practice of marching at military funerals, with arms reversed, is of high antiquity. Thus Virgil xi. 93, at the funeral of Pallas--_versis Arcades armis_: and upon another occasion, _versi fasces_ occur in Tacitus iii. 2, referring to the lictors.

In our cities and large towns, the corpse is commonly borne to the grave, in a hea.r.s.e, or on the shoulders of paid bearers. Originally it was otherwise. The office of supporting the body to the grave was supposed to belong, of right, and duty, to relatives and friends; or, in the case of eminent persons, to public functionaries. Thus, in Tacitus, iii. 2, we find the expression, _tribunorum centurionumque humeris cineres portabantur_: and, upon the death of Augustus, Tac. i. 8, it was carried by acclamation, as we moderns say, _corpus ad rogum humeris senatorum ferendum_.

The conduct of both s.e.xes, at funerals, was, in some respects, rather ridiculous, in those days. Virgil says of King Latinus, when he lost his wife,

--------it, scissa veste, Latinus, Canitiem immundo perfusam pulvere turpans;

which means, in plain English, that the old monarch went about, with his coat torn, defiling his white hair with filthy dust.

Cicero, in his Tusculan Questions, iii. 26, is entirely of this opinion: detestabilia genera lugendi, paedores, muliebres lacerationes genarum, pectoris, feminum, capitis percussiones--detestable kinds of mourning, covering the body with filth, women tearing their cheeks, bosoms, and limbs, and knocking their heads. Tibullus, in the concluding lines of his charming elegy to Delia, the first of his first book, though he evidently derives much happiness, from the conviction, that she will mourn for him, and weep over his funeral pile, implores her to spare her lovely cheeks and flowing hair. No cla.s.sical reader will censure me, for transcribing this very fine pa.s.sage:

Te spectem, suprema mihi quum venerit hora, Te teneam moriens, deficiente manu.

Flebis et arsuro positum me, Delia, lecto.

Tristibus et lacrymis oscula mixta dabis.

Flebis; non tua sunt duro praecordia ferro, Vincta, nec in tenero stat tibi corde silex.

Illo non juvenis poterit de funere quisquam Lumina, non virgo, sicca referre domum.

Tu manes ne laede meos: sed parce solutis Crinibus, et teneris, Delia, parce genis.

The _suttee_, or sacrifice of the widows of Hindostan, on the funeral pile of their husbands, was not more a matter of course, than the laceration of the hair and cheeks, among Roman women. It was undoubtedly accounted disreputable, for a widow to appear in public, after the recent funeral of her husband, with locks unpulled and cheeks unscratched. To such extremity had this absurd practice proceeded, that the fifth law of the tenth of the Twelve Tables, to which reference has been made, in a former number, was enacted to prevent it--_mulieres genas ne radunto_.

No discreet matron perpetrates any such absurdity, in modern times. The hair and cheeks of the departed have, occasionally, given evidence of considerable laceration, from some cause unknown; but neither the law of the Tables, nor the pathos of a Tibullus is commonly required, to prevent a Christian widow, from laying violent hands, upon her cheeks or her hair.

No. x.x.xI.

The cholera seems to be forgotten--but without reason--for the yellowest and most malignant of all yellow fevers is down upon us, proving fatal to the peace of many families, and sweeping away our citizens, by hundreds.

The distemper appears to have originated in California, and to have been brought hither, in letters from Governor Mason and others. It is deeply to be deplored, that these letters, which are producing all this mischief, had not been subjected to the process of smoking and sprinkling with vinegar; for the disease is highly contagious. This fever differs entirely from the _febris flava_--the _typhus icteroides_ of _Sauvages_. The symptoms are somewhat peculiar. The pulse is quick and fluttering--the head hot--the patient neglects his business, bolts his food, and wanders about--sometimes apparently delirious, and, during the paroxysms, calls furiously for a pickaxe and a tin pan. But the most certain indication, that the disease has entered into the system, is, not that the patient himself becomes yellow, but that everything, upon which he turns his eyes, a.s.sumes the yellow appearance of gold. The nature of this distemper will, however, be much better understood, by the presentation of a few cases of actual occurrence.

I. Jeduthan Smink--a carpenter, having a wife and two children, residing at No. 9 Loafer's Lane. This is a strongly marked case. Mr. Smink, who is about five and twenty years of age, has always entertained the opinion, that work did him harm, and that drink did him good--labors--the only way in which he will labor--under the delusion, that all is gold that glistens--packed up his warming pan and bra.s.s kettle, to send them to the mint.

II. Laban Larkin, a farmer--caught the fever of a barber, while being shaved--persuaded that the unusual yellowness of his squashes and carrots can only be accounted for, by the presence of gold dust--turned a field of winter rye topsy turvy, in search of it--believes finally, in the sliding qualities of subterraneous treasure--thinks his gold has slipped over into his neighbor's field of winter rye--offers to dig it all up, at the halves--excited and abusive, because his neighbor declines the offer--told him he was a superannuated a.s.s, and behind the times.

III. Molly Murphy resides, when at home, which is seldom, in Shelaly Court, near the corner, easily found by any one, who will follow his nose; has a husband and one child, a dutiful boy, who vends matches and penny papers, on week days, and steals, on Sundays, for the support of the family. Molly can read; has read what Gov. Mason writes about pigs rooting up gold, by mistake, for groundnuts--her brain much disturbed--has an impression, that gold may be found almost anywhere--with a tin pan, and no other a.s.sistance but her son, Tooley Murphy, she has actually dug over and washed a pile of filth, in front of her dwelling, which the city scavengers have never been able materially to diminish--urges her husband to be "aff wid the family for Killyfarny, where the very wheelbarries is made out of goold." Dreams of nothing but gold dust, and firmly believes it to be the very dust we shall all return to--while asleep, seized her husband by the ears, and could scarcely be sufficiently awakened, to comprehend that she had not captured the golden calf.

Let us be grave. I shall not inquire, if Bishop Archelaus was right in the opinion, that the original golden calf was made, not by the Israelites, but by Egyptians, who were the companions of their flight; nor if the modern idol be a descendant in the right line. It is somewhat likely, that the golden calf of 1848, will grow up to be a terrible bull, for some of the adventurers.

That there is gold in California, no one doubts. Governor Mason's standard of quant.i.ty is rather alarming--there is gold enough, says he, in the country, drained by the Sacramento and Joaquin rivers, and more than enough, "_to pay the cost of the present war with Mexico, a hundred times over_." This is encouraging, and may lead us to look upon the prospect of another, with more complacency; though the whole of this treasure will not buy back a single slaughtered victim--not one husband to the widow--nor one parent to an orphan child--nor one stay and staff, the joy and the pride of her life, to the lone mother. _N'importe_--we have gold and glory! "The people," says Mr. Mason, "before engaged in cultivating their small patches of ground, and guarding their herds of cattle and horses, have all gone to the mines. Laborers of every trade have left their work benches, and tradesmen their shops. Sailors desert their ships, as fast as they arrive on the coast."

There is a marvellous fascination in all this, no doubt; and as fast and as far as the knowledge radiates, thousands upon thousands will be rushing to the spot. The shilling here, however, which procures a given amount of meat, fire and clothes, is equal to the sum, whatever it may be, which, there procures the same amount and quality. Loafers and the lovers of ease and indolence, who are tobacco chewers, to a man, are desirous of flying to this El Dorado. Let them have a care: an ounce of gold dust, valued at $12 there, though worth $18 here, is said to have been paid, for a plug of tobacco. A traveller in Caffraria, having paid five cowries, (sh.e.l.ls, the money of the country) for some article, complained, that forty were demanded, for a like article, in a village, not far off; and inquired if the article was scarce; "no," was the reply, "but cowries are very plenty."

Our adventurers intend to remain, perhaps, only till they obtain a competency. Even that is not the work of a day; and will be longer, or shorter, in the ratio of the consumption of means, for daily support, during the operation. There will, doubtless, be some difference also, as to the meaning of the word competency. An intelligent merchant, of this city, once defined it to mean a little more, in every individual's opinion, than he hath. Like the lock of hay, which Miss Edgeworth says is attached to the extremity of the pole, and which is ever just so far in advance of the hungry horses, in an Irish jaunting car, so competency seems to be forever leading us onward, yet is never fairly within our grasp.