When Latour was guillotined at Foix, in 1864, for the murder of a family of four persons, great was the throng in the streets, despite the heavy rain that fell; for, to ensure a good attendance, the condemned man had announced his intention to compose for the occasion a series of verses, which he would sing on his way (in a cart, vis-à-vis with messieurs the headsmen) from prison to scaffold. And sing them he did, all the way—a matter of some three hundred and fifty yards. Lightly he tripped up the steps of the scaffold, and then, after a deliberate survey of the crowd below and all around, he thundered forth, tonna, the following lines—a parody, or rather a personal appropriation, of the Marseillaise:
"Allons, pauvre victime,
Ton jour de mort est arrivé:
Contre toi de la tyrannie
Le couteau sanglant est levé!"
Being then tied to the plank and flung into the usual horizontal position in order to be brought under the blade, he still went on—Allons, pauvre victime, Ton jour de mort ... —until a heavy sound was heard, the blade fell, something else fell with it, and all was over.—Jacox.
[6] It is too early for the last words of John Burroughs (may it be yet many years before they are spoken), but we are struck with the wonderful accord between the last words of Bolingbroke and the closing paragraph to the preface with which Burroughs introduces his, "The Light of Day:" "I am content to let the unseen powers go their own way with me and mine without question or distrust. They brought me here, and I have found it well to be here; in due time they will take me hence, and I have no doubt that will be well for me too."
[7] Some have thought it an evidence of strength of will to die standing; and some have even wished to be buried in that posture. In Oliver Heywood's Register is the following entry:—"Oct. 28, 1684. Captain Taylor's wife, of Brighouse, buried in her garden, with head upwards, standing upright, by her husband, daughter, and other Quakers."
Mrs. George S. Norton, of Pawling, N. Y., was buried at her own request sitting upright in a rocking chair enclosed in a box made of seasoned chestnut. The funeral services were held July 27, 1899.—Albany Argus.
M. Halloin of the neighborhood of Caen, in Normandy, who died in the early part of this century, when he felt his end approach inserted in his last will a clause expressing his desire to be buried at night, in his bed, comfortably tucked in, with pillows and coverlets as he had died. As no opposition was raised against the execution of this clause, a huge pit was sunk, and the corpse was lowered into its last resting place, without any alteration having been made in the position in which death had overtaken him. Boards were laid over the bed, that the falling earth might not disturb this imperturbable quietist.—S. Baring-Gould: "Curiosities of Olden Times."
[8] There is a story which comes to us from Scioppius, that Bruno rejected "with a terrible menacing countenance" a crucifix which was held up to him, and which may have been heated red hot, as was customary, in order to convince the spectators of the sufferer's impiety, and prevent them from feeling pity for him in his distress. The story has no very good foundation, but we know that heated crucifixes were not uncommon among the ghostly persecutors of earlier and darker days; and we can easily see how a man asked to kiss such a crucifix might exhibit "a terrible menacing countenance."
[9] In the Appendix of Allan Cunningham's "Life of Burns" we read of an examination of the poet's Tomb, made immediately after that life was published:
"When Burns's Mausoleum was opened in March, 1834, to receive the remains of his widow, some residents in Dumfries obtained the consent of her nearest relative to take a cast from the cranium of the poet. This was done during the night between the 31st of March and 1st of April. Mr. Archibald Blacklock, surgeon, drew up the following description: