Part 19

He inquired whether it were likely that he should again eject blood from his stomach before death, and being told that it was improbable, he asked, "Then what shall you do?" Being answered that he would be supported by stimulants, and rendered as easy as possible by the opiates that had suited him so well, he inquired, at once, if the stimulant should not be given immediately; anxious again to know if the hand of death were not already upon him. And on being told that it would not be then given, he replied, "_When_ you give it to me, I shall know that I may drop off at once."

Being satisfied on this point, and that he should, therefore, have a final warning, he said a moment afterwards, "I will, then, put myself in a position to obtain a little repose." In this he was successful. He had intervals of rest to the last; but on rousing from them he showed that he was still intensely anxious to preserve his consciousness, and to watch for the moment and act of his departure, so as to comprehend it. Awaking from one of these slumbers, late in the night, he asked distinctly if he were alive, and on being assured that he was, and that his family was collected around his bed, he said in a perfectly natural tone, as if assenting to what had been told him, because he himself perceived that it was true, "I still live." These were his last coherent and intelligible words. At twenty-three minutes before three o'clock, without a struggle or a moan, all signs of life ceased to be visible. --_Louis Gaylord Clark._

[52] The United States has produced no greater orator than Daniel Webster; nevertheless, in the minds of many, he fell from his most exalted station as the interpreter of the public conscience, when he delivered, March 7, 1850, his famous speech, assenting to the Fugitive Slave Law. It was this speech that called forth Whittier's poem "Ichabod," which has been often compared with Browning's "Lost Leader."

WEBSTER (Thomas, Professor of Geology in the London University, and author of "Encyclopædia of Domestic Economy"), 1773-1844. "_Examine it for yourself._"

WEBSTER (William, English clergyman and author of "The Life of General Monk"), 1689-1758. "_Peace._"

WEED (Thurlow, American journalist and politician. He wrote "Letters from Europe and the West Indies," and for many years edited with marked ability, "_The Albany Evening Journal_"), 1797-1882. "_I want to go home._"

During his last hours his mind wandered, and he thought himself in conversation with President Lincoln and General Scott with regard to the Southern Confederacy.

WESLEY (Charles, English hymn-writer whose sacred songs are sung, in original or translation, all over the Christian world. He is the author of "Love divine, all love excelling," "Jesus, lover of my soul," and "Christ, the Lord, is risen to-day"), 1708-1788. "_I shall be satisfied with Thy likeness--satisfied!_"

WESLEY (John, founder of the Methodist Episcopal Church), 1703-1791. "_The best of all is God is with us._"

His body lay in a kind of state in his chapel at London the day previous to his interment, dressed in his clerical habit, with gown, cassock, and band, the old clerical cap on his head, a Bible in one hand, and a white handkerchief in the other. The funeral service was read by one of his old preachers. When he came to the part of the service, "Forasmuch as it hath pleased God to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother," his voice changed, and he substituted the word "father;" and the feeling with which he did this was such, that the congregation, who were shedding silent tears, burst at once into loud weeping.--"_Southey's Life of Wesley._"

WESLEY (Sarah, wife of Charles Wesley). "_Open the gates! Open the gates!_"

WHITAKER (William, English theologian, professor of Divinity at Cambridge, and translator of the "Liturgy of the Church" and "Nowell's Catechism" into Greek), 1547-1595. "_Life or death is welcome to me; and I desire not to live, but so far as I may be serviceable to God and His church._"

WHITE (Joseph Blanco. In Spain, where he was born, he was called Blanco, which he exchanged for its English equivalent. He wrote many interesting and useful books, but will be remembered longest for his exquisite sonnet, entitled "Night"), 1775-1841. "_Now I die._"

He remained some days longer, chiefly in the state of one falling asleep, until the morning of the 20th, when he awoke, and with a firm voice and great solemnity of manner, spoke only these words: "Now I die." He sat as one in the attitude of expectation, and about two hours afterward--it was as he had said.

There was no apparent pain or struggle, and it was an inexpressible relief to behold, shortly after, the singular beauty and repose of features lately so wan and suffering; but there took place in the act of expiring, what we had observed in other cases after long exhaustion, but had never seen described. A sudden darkness beneath the surface, like the clouding of a pure liquid from within; the immediate shadow of Death was passing from the forehead downwards, and leaving all clear again behind it as it moved along. _Thom's "Life of Joseph Blanco White."_

Compare the death-bed of the Deist, Joseph Blanco White, with that of poor Keats, and I think it must be admitted that both in faith and fortitude the former has immeasurably the advantage. It ought, however, to be recollected that Blanco White was older, and had had more time to gain strength of mind. But he was also of a more religious turn from the first. _Memoirs and Letters of Sara Coleridge._

WHITEFIELD (George, founder of the Calvinistic Methodist Church, and chaplain to the Countess of Huntingdon), 1714-1770. "_I am dying._" He was standing by the open window gasping for breath, as he uttered these words. A friend persuaded him to sit down in a chair, and have a cloak thrown over him, and thus seated he quietly passed away.

"David Hume pronounced Whitefield the most ingenious preacher he had ever heard, and said it was worth while to go twenty miles to hear him. But perhaps the greatest proof of his persuasive powers was when he drew from Benjamin Franklin's pocket the money which that clear, cool reasoner had determined not to give."--_Robert Southey._

WHITMAN (Walt, American poet and army nurse), 1819-1892. "_O, he's a dear, good fellow_," said of Thomas Donaldson, one of his most enthusiastic friends, and later his biographer.

There was a most pathetic incident connected with Mr. Whitman's death. It was related to me by "Warry" Fritzinger, his nurse. Warry had arranged a rope above Mr. Whitman's head, in the bed, which was attached to a bell below. He would pull this rope after he became weak, and thus ring the bell to attract attention. Prior to this time he had used his heavy cane to pound the floor with. This brought assistance at once. Just before he died, as the great change came over him--he was conscious that it was a great change, a something unusual (Mrs. Davis and Warry were by his side)--he seemed as if groping for something. Death had called for him, and as the call came, he attempted to reach above his head with one of his hands and feel for the rope, as if to call for help. In an instant the arm dropped, and soon he was dead. _Donaldson: "Walt Whitman the Man."_

Whitman has, amid the fleshly and physical poems, much that is deeply spiritual; amid the tuneless and formless, much noble thought fitly voiced. The higher mood and the higher work may be seen in "O Captain! my Captain!" "Reconciliation," "Vigil on the Fields," "The City Dead-House," "Song of the Broad Axe," "Proud Music of the Storm," "The Mystic Trumpeter," "Seashore Memories," and the death-carols of the "Passage to India." _Welsh: "Digest of English and American Literature."_

WHITTIER (John Greenleaf, distinguished American poet), 1807-1892. "_I have known thee all the time_," to his niece in response to her question, "Do you know me?"

Others say his last words were, "Give my love to the world."

Upon the silver coffin-plate was the inscription: "John Greenleaf Whittier, December 17, 1807, September 7, 1892." The face of the dead man wore an expression of peace and perfect repose. All around his head and body was a delicate fringe of maidenhair fern. Directly over his breast was a superb wreath of white roses, carnations and maidenhair ferns from that other loved poet and dear friend, for whom Whittier wrote his last poem, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. Upon the lid was a cluster of white carnations from Mrs. Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward, and at the foot were two crossed palms with white lilies. At the last were roses and maidenhair ferns. A broad white satin ribbon encircled the palms and sprays, and upon the ends, delicately painted, were the inscriptions: "In memory of John Greenleaf Whittier, September 7, 1892," and this verse:

"Some sweet morning, yet in God's Dim aeonian periods, Joyful I shall wake to see Those I love, who rest in Thee. And to them, in Thee allied, Shall my soul be satisfied."

Upon the card were these words: "In memoriam of my husband's dear friend. This verse of Andrew Rykman's prayer was used for consolation by him who wrote it in the hour of death. Mrs. Daniel Lathrop." _N. Y. Tribune, September 12, 1892._

WIELAND (Christoph Martin, celebrated German poet, first translator of Shakspeare's works into the German language, founder and editor of the "Deutscher Mercur." His most celebrated poem is "Oberon"), 1733-1813. "_To sleep--to die._"

WILBERFORCE (William, British statesman and philanthropist), 1759-1833. "_Heaven!_" Some say his last words were: "I now feel so weaned from earth, my affections so much in heaven, that I can leave you all without regret; yet I do not love you less, but God more."

WILD (Jonathan, noted highwayman, the hero of many a chap-book of his day, and the hero and title of a novel by Fielding), 1682-1725. "_Lord Jesus receive my soul!_" Unfortunately there is some doubt as to the genuineness of these pious words, for they come to us through the chaplain of the prison, Rev. Thomas Pureney, a man of whom we have this description in Charles Whibley's "Book of Scoundrels:"

"Pureney yielded without persuasion to the pleasures denied his cloth. There was ever a fire to extinguish at his throat, nor could he veil his wanton eye at the sight of a pretty wench. Again and again the lust of preaching urged him to repent, yet he slid back upon his past gaiety, until 'Parson Pureney' became a by-word. Dismissed from Newmarket in disgrace, he wandered the country up and down in search of a pulpit, but so infamous became the habit of his life that only in prison could he find an audience fit and responsive."

WILLARD (Frances Elizabeth, American reformer and temperance advocate), 1839--. "_How beautiful to be with God._"

Shortly before Frances Willard's death she took notice of Hoffman's picture of Christ on the wall, which had been given to her by Lady Henry Somerset, and directed that it be taken back to Lady Henry with this inscription: "Only the golden rule of Christ can bring the golden age of man." Her last words were "How beautiful to be with God." _Rev. C. C. Carpenter._

WILLIAM I. (of England, surnamed "The Conqueror"), 1025-1087. "_I commend myself to the blessed Lady Mary, hoping by her intercessions to be reconciled to her most dear Son, our Lord Jesus Christ._"

WILLIAM III. (of England), 1650-1702. "_Can this last long?_" to his physician.

WILMOT (John, Earl of Rochester, witty and profligate courtier and author, and a great favorite with Charles II. Notwithstanding his evil life, he was a brave soldier and had many attractive qualities), 1647-1680. "_The only objection against the Bible is a bad life._"

WILSON (Alexander, distinguished ornithologist), 1766-1813. His last words are not recorded, but just before his death he asked to be buried where the birds might sing over his grave.[53]

[53] Walter von der Vogelweid requested that he might repose where a leafy tree should cast its shadow, and the light of the summer day should linger long; and that the birds might be fed every day from the stone over his grave. See Longfellow's beautiful poem, "Walter von der Vogelweid."

WINKELRIED (Arnold von, Swiss patriot who broke the Austrian phalanx at the battle of Sempach in 1385, by rushing against the points of their spears, and gathering within his arms as many as he could. He fell pierced with many wounds, but the Swiss were victorious). "_Friends, I am going to lay down my life to procure you victory. All I request is that you provide for my family. Follow me and imitate my example._"

A column surmounted by a lion, erected on the five hundredth anniversary of the victory marks the spot where Arnold von Winkelried fell.

WISHART (George), 1502-1546. "_For the sake of the true gospel, given one by the grace of God, I suffer this day with a glad heart. Behold and consider my visage. Ye shall not see me change color. I fear not this fire._" He was burned at the stake for preaching the doctrines of the Reformation.

A few moments before he uttered his last words the executioner said to him, "Sir, I pray you to forgive me, for I am not guilty of your death," to which the martyr, having replied, "Come hither to me," and then kissed him on the cheek, said: "Lo, here is a token that I forgive thee."

WITT (Cornelius de). "This man, who had bravely served his country in war, and who had been invested with the highest dignities, was delivered into the hands of the executioner, and torn in pieces by the most inhuman torments. Amidst the severe agonies which he endured he frequently repeated an ode of Horace,[54] which contained sentiments suited to his deplorable condition."--_Hume._

[54] Horace lib. iii, Ode 3.

WOLCOTT, or WOLCOT (John, "Peter Pindar," witty and scurrilous satiric poet. "The most unsparing calumniator of his age."--_Sir Walter Scott_), 1738-1819. "_Give me back my youth_," to Taylor who had asked him "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Wolcott is well described by Gifford in these lines:

Come, then, all filth, all venom, as thou art, Rage in thy eye, and rancour in thy heart; Come with thy boasted arms, spite, malice, lies, Smut, scandal, execrations, blasphemies.

WOLFE (Charles, Irish clergyman and poet, author of "Burial of Sir John Moore," which is regarded as one of the most finished poems of its kind in the English language), 1791-1823. "_Close this eye, the other is closed already; and now farewell!_"

On going to bed he felt very drowsy; and soon after the stupor of death began to creep over him. He began to pray for all his dearest friends individually; but his voice faltering, he could only say--"God bless them all! The peace of God and of Jesus Christ overshadow them, dwell in them, reign in them!" "My peace," said he, addressing his sister (the peace I now feel), "Be with you!"--"Thou, O God, wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee." His speech again began to fail, and he fell into a slumber; but whenever his senses were recalled he returned to prayer. He repeated part of the Lord's prayer, but was unable to proceed; and at last, with a composure scarcely credible at such a moment, he whispered to the dear relative who hung over his death-bed, "Close this eye, the other is closed already; and now farewell!" Then, having again uttered part of the Lord's prayer, he fell asleep. _Rev. John A. Russell: "Remains of Rev. Charles Wolfe."_

WOLFE (James, a celebrated English officer, killed in the battle of Quebec), 1726-1759. "_I die happy._" On being told of the defeat of the French.

Some give his last words thus: "Support me, let not my brave soldiers see me drop; the day is ours! Oh! keep it!" Said to those who were near him when he received his wound. He feared the effect of his death upon his troops.

WOLLSTONECRAFT (Mary, afterwards Mrs. Godwin, English authoress), 1759-1797. "_I know what you are thinking of, but I have nothing to communicate on the subject of religion_," to her husband who was endeavoring to tell her death was near and to sound her mind in the matter of a spiritual world.

WOLSEY (Thomas, known in history as Cardinal Wolsey), 1471-1530. "_Master Kingston, farewell! My time draweth on fast. Forget not what I have said and charged you withal; for when I am dead ye shall, peradventure, understand my words better._" _D'Aubigné's "History of the Reformation."_

On the morning of the second day, as Cavendish was watching near Wolsey, he inquired the hour, and being told eight o'clock,--"That cannot be," he replied, "for at eight o'clock you will lose your master: my time is at hand, and I must depart this world." His confessor, who was standing near, requested Cavendish to enquire if he would be confessed. "What have you to do with that?" answered the Cardinal, angrily; but was appeased by the interference of the confessor. He continued to grow weaker all that day: about four o'clock the next morning, he asked for some refreshment, which having received, and made his final confession, Sir William Kingston entered his room, and enquired how he felt himself: "I tarry," said the dying man, "but the pleasure of God, to render up my poor soul into His hands. I have now been eight days together troubled with a continual flux and fever, a species of disease which, if it do not remit its violence within that period, never fails to terminate in death." Then follows his message to the King, concluding with, "Had I served my God as diligently as I have served the King, He would not have given me over in my grey hairs." He then continued, for a short time, to give Sir William some advice, concluding with, "Forget not what I have said; and when I am gone, call it often to mind." Towards the conclusion, his accents began to falter; at the end, his eyes became motionless, and his sight failed. The abbot was summoned to administer the extreme unction, and the yeomen of the guard were called to see him die. As the clock struck eight he expired, on the 29th of November, 1530. _Welby: "Predictions Realized."_

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. And though he was unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam. He was most princely.--_Shakspeare._

WOOD (Rev. John George, English naturalist, author of "Man and Beast Here and Hereafter"), 1827-1889. "_Give me a large cup of tea._"

At six o'clock he complained of thirst and asked for a cup of milk. Still his mind was perfectly clear, for, finding that he could no longer raise his head to drink, he asked whether there happened to be an invalid's cup in the house, and, finding that there was not, suggested that a small milk jug would answer the purpose instead. This was procured, and he drank his milk, asking immediately afterward for a large cup of tea, which he drank also. And almost immediately afterward he turned his head upon one side, and quietly passed away.[55]--_Theodore Wood._

[55] Sir Charles Blagden, the distinguished English physician and chemist (1748-1820) died so quietly and peacefully that not a drop of coffee in the cup which he held in his hand was spilt. He was sitting in his chair at a social meal with his friends, Monsieur and Madame Berthollet, and Gay Lussac. Dr. Joseph Black, also a famous physician, died whilst eating his customary meal of bread and milk, and so quiet and peaceful was his departure that he did not even spill the contents of a spoon which he held in his hand.

WOODVILLE (William, English physician and author of a work on "Medical Botany"), 1752-1805. "_I shall not live more than two days, therefore make haste_," last recorded words said to a carpenter who had come to measure him for a coffin.

WOOLSTON (Thomas, English theologian), 1669-1733. "_This is a struggle which all men must go through, and which I bear not only with patience, but with willingness._"

WOOLTON (John. Bishop of Exeter), 1535-1594. "_A Bishop ought to die on his legs._" He insisted upon standing up to die, as did also the Rev. Patrick Bronté.

WORDSWORTH (William, distinguished English poet), 1770-1850. "_God bless you! Is that you Dora?_"

Mrs. Wordsworth, with a view of letting him know what the opinion of his medical advisers was concerning his case, said gently to him, "William, you are going to Dora!" More than twenty-four hours afterward one of his nieces came into the room, and was drawing aside the curtain of his chamber, and then, as if awakening from a quiet sleep, he said, "Is that you Dora?"[56] _Memoirs of Wordsworth, Vol. ii, p. 506._

[56] William Wordsworth died April 23rd, 1850, at the age of 80, and was buried in the little centry-garth of St. Oswald's, Grasmere, between, as De Quincey records, "a yew-tree of his own planting, and an aged thorn." On his tombstone is an inscription from the pen of Keble, in which he is styled, "a chief minister, not only of noblest poesy, but of high and Sacred truth." Surely the tender lover of Nature, and high-priest of her mysteries, could have no fitter resting-place than this Westmoreland churchyard, where, as some one has written, "the turf is washed green by summer dew, and winter rain, and in early spring is beautifully dappled with lichens and golden moss?" This reads very prettily, and represents the thing as it should be. But what are the facts? The literary pilgrim who may chance to visit the spot will follow a narrow muddy path among the grave mounds, till he reaches a gloomy dingy corner, with a group of blue-black head-stones of funereal slate. Everything round the place is decayed and blighted; no green grass is there; all is dull, dark and depressing. The poet's corner is ill-drained; and there is a tiny moat of water round the base of the stone curb, in which is fixed the iron railing that surrounds the grave. Yet here is a remarkable group of memorial tombs. Near to the poet lie all the beloved members of his household. Here slumbers his favorite sister, Dorothy; here, too, Mrs. Wordsworth,--Dora Wordsworth,--her husband, Edward Quillinan, the poet, and translator of the _Lusiad_,--the two infant children of Wordsworth,--and behind these, Hartley Coleridge, that "inheritor of unfulfilled renown," whose bier the poet followed one snowy day in January, unwitting that, before the trees were again clad with verdure, he would be borne along the same narrow path to his own long rest. Surely something should be done to rescue the poet's monument from decay, and render it more in accordance with the verdant foliage and the sun-bright hills around, of which he sung so lovingly and so well. _William Bates._

WOTTON (Sir Henry, English diplomatist, author of some very beautiful short poems and of a number of books, chief among which are "The State of Christendom," and "The Characters of Some of the English Kings"), 1568-1639. "_I now draw near to the harbor of death--that harbor that will rescue me from all the future storms and waves of this restless world. I praise God, I am willing to leave it, and expect a better--that world wherein dwelleth righteousness, and I long for it._"