DEALINGS
WITH
THE DEAD.
BY
A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL.
VOLUME II.
BOSTON:
PUBLISHED BY DUTTON AND WENTWORTH,
33 and 35 Congress Street:
AND
TICKNOR AND FIELDS,
Corner of Washington and School Streets.
MDCCCLVI.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
DUTTON AND WENTWORTH,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
Dealings with the Dead.
BY A SEXTON OF THE OLD SCHOOL.
No. XC.
My earliest recollections of some, among the dead and buried aristocracyof Boston, find a ready embodiment, in cocked hats of enormousproportions, queues reaching to their middles, cloaks of scarletbroadcloth, lined with silk, and faced with velvet, and just so short, asto exhibit the swell of the leg, silk stockings, and breeches, highlypolished shoes, and large, square, silver buckles, embroidered vests, withdeep lappet pockets, similar to those, which were worn, in the age ofLouis Quatorze, shirts ruffled, at the bosoms and sleeves, doeskin orbeaver gloves, and glossy, black, Surinam walking canes, six feet inlength, and commonly carried by the middle.
Of the last of the Capulets we know nearly all, that it is desirable toknow. Of the last of the cocked hats we are not so clearly certified.
The dimensions of the military cocked hat were terrible; and, like thoseenormous, bear skin caps, which are in use, at present, eminentlycalculated to put the enemy to flight. I have seen one of those enormouscocked hats, which had long been preserved, as a memorial of the wearer’sgallantry. In one corner, and near the extremity, was a round hole, saidto have been made by a musket ball, at the battle of White Plains, Nov.30, 1776. As I contemplated this relic, it was impossible to avoid[Pg 352] thecomforting reflection, that the head of the gallant proprietor was at avery safe distance from the bullet.
After the assassination of Henry IV., and greatly to the amusement of thegay and giddy courtiers of his successor, Louis XIII.—old Sullyobstinately adhered to the costume of the former reign. Colonel BarnabasClarke was very much of Sully’s way of thinking. “And who,” asks thereader, “was Colonel Barnabas Clarke?” He was a pensioner of the UnitedStates, and died a poor, though highly respected old man, in the town ofRandolph, and Commonwealth of Massachusetts. For several years, hecommanded the third Regiment of the first Brigade, and first Division ofinfantry; and he wore the largest cocked hat and the longest queue in theknown world. He was a broad-shouldered, strong-hearted Revolutioner. Letme take the reader aside, for a brief space; and recite to him a pleasantanecdote of old Colonel Barnabas Clarke, which occurred, under my ownobservation, when John Brooks—whose patent of military nobilty bears dateat Saratoga, but who was one of nature’s noble