Difference between revisions of "Chancellor Wythe's Death"

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Chapter XXVIII in The Two Parsons, by George Wythe Munford (Richmond, Virginia: J.D.K. Sleight, 1884), 414-433.

Chapter 28 text

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CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHANCELLOR WYTHE'S DEATH.

We have carried our Parsons to places not usually frequented by men of the cloth. We have described them as they appeared in their day. If there was anything objectionable in in their conduct, let those who think so draw a moral from it, and teach those who agree with them to avoid the evil. The characters of men should be described with truthfulness. Let the evil be avoided; let the good be imitated. For our own part, we admire them for the common sense they displayed, for placing themselves in positions where the good they might do overbalanced the appearance of evil.

The bedside of the sick and dying is a position recognized by all as appropriate for a minister. However hardened the sinner, however vile the reprobate, he may be successfully approached at a time like this by good men, and they may indulge even in reproof without incurring censure or violating decorum. The thief on the cross was forgiven. A word dropped in season—a prayer elicited from the reprobate's heart—may perchance save a perishing soul. The heart is generally softened by the rackings and pains of disease, and a lodgment may then be made which may cause that garrison of many devils to see the folly of mortal combat with its Creator, and cause an unconditional surrender. Even though repentance may be exhorted by fear, there is cause for rejoicing. But when a pious minister approaches the bed of a believer, and

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witnesses his resignation and submission, and willingness to rely implicitly upon divine mercy, through the mediation of a crucified Redeemer, there is a calm pleasure to the sick, and a delight to those around him which no Christian can fail to appreciate.

We have spoken of Chancellor George Wythe in a previous chapter,^[1] and as we are going to his bedside, we cannot refrain from making reference to his estimable character. In the times that tried men's souls there was no occasion for this; for he was one of the magnates who occupied such a large space in the public eye that all men knew his position and services.

As a chancellor, in his court-room, in the basement of the Capitol, which was rarely occupied by more than a few members of the bar and a few suitors, without insignia of office and only his innate dignity to support him, men might transact their business without reflecting upon the inestimable value of a judge uncontaminated by prejudice or partiality, or meaner selfishness, upon whose pure decision their property depended. They knew he held the even scales of justice well balanced in his hands, and that nothing but undoubted equity and law could turn those scales to the right or the left; still, no outward demonstration of more than ordinary respect was ever exhibited. In these days, when it is not uncommon to hear notable contrasts drawn between some unworthy judges, who have soiled the judicial ermine, and brought their decisions and illegal acts into disrepute and themselves into contempt, it may not be considered useless to revive some incidents in the life and character of such a man as George Wythe, and hold him up as an exemplar of a patriot, jurist, and pure Virginian. It is a pleasure for us to dwell for a moment upon the personal appearance of this remarkable man.

He was one of those that a child could approach with-

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out hesitation or shrinking,—would talk to, in its innocent prattle, without constraint or fear,—would lean upon, and, looking in his face, return a sympathetic smile. He was one of those before whom a surly dog would unbend, and wag his tail with manifest pleasure, though never seen before. Animals and children are guided in their affections or dislikes by countenance and the manner.

His stature was of middle size. He was well-formed and proportioned; and the features of his face many, comely, and engaging. In his walk, he carried his hands behind him, holding the one in the other, which added to his thoughtful appearance. In his latter days he was very bald. The hair that remained was uncut, and worn behind, curled up in a continuous roll. His head was very round, with a high forehead; well-arched eyebrows; prominent blue eyes, showing softness and intelligence combined; a large aquiline nose; rather small, but well-defined mouth; and thin whiskers, not lower than his ears. There were sharp indentations from the side of his nose down his cheek, terminating about an inch from the corner of the mouth; and his chin was well-rounded and distinct. His face was kept smoothly shaven; his cheeks, considerably furrowed from the loss of teeth; and the crow's feet very perceptible in the corners of his eyes. His countenance was exceedingly benevolent and cheerful.

His dress was a single-breasted black broadcloth coat, with a stiff collar turned over slightly at the top, cut in front Quaker fashion; a long vest, with large pocket-flaps and straight collar, buttoned high on the breast, showing the ends of the white cravat that filled up the bosom. He wore shorts; silver knee and shoe buckles; was particularly neat in his appearance, and had a ruddy, healthy hue. He had a regular habit of bathing, winter and summer, at sunrise. He would put on his morning

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wrapper, go down with his bucket to the well in the yard, which was sixty feet deep and the water very cold, and draw for himself what was necessary. He would then indulge in a potent shower-bath, which he considered the most inspiring luxury. With nerves all braced, he would pick up the morning Enquirer, established about two years before, and seating himself in his arm-chair, would ring a little silver bell for his frugal breakfast. This was brought in immediately by his servant woman, Lydia Broadnax, who understood his wants and his ways. She was a servant of the olden time, respected and trusted by her master, and devotedly attached to him and his—one of those whom he had liberated, but who lived with him from affection.

References

1. ↑ Munford, "Parson Blair's Snack;—Chancellor Wythe", The Two Parsons, 357-365. An anecdote regarding Wythe's receipt of a gift of iced crabs from Congressman Burwell Bassett, and sharing two of those crabs with John D. Blair, who must attempt to split them among himself, John Buchanan, and William Radford.