If life be defined, that power by which organized beings are enabled to resist the physical and chemical operation of surrounding agents, it follows that death must be marked by the occurrence of those phenomena to which the elective attractions, no longer suspended or controlled, will necessarily give rise; hence putrefaction has been considered by many authors as the only certain sign of dissolution; unfortunately, however, this process of decomposition does not immediately display its agency by visible effects; the countenance has remained unchanged for a considerable time after death, and cases have occurred in which its colour and complexion have not only been preserved, but even heightened. This difference in the celerity with which the body putrefies did not escape the observation of the ancients, and like every other mysterious occurrence, was attributed by them to divine interposition; we accordingly find that their poets mentioned those who preserved the appearance of freshness after death, as favoured persons, who had fallen by the gentle darts of Apollo and Diana; thus Hecuba^[2] declares that Hector, although dead for twelve days, still remains fresh, like one who had died by the hands of Apollo. On the other hand, in certain morbid states of the living frame, so feebly do the powers of life resist the operation of physical agents, that if the body cannot be said actually to enter into a state of putrefaction, it may at least assume appearances so analogous as to be mistaken for it. The test of death, therefore, must rather be sought for amongst those signs which indicate the quiescence, or cessation of the functions of life, than from those which manifest the decomposition of the organs by which they are performed; and here again it may be imagined that no difficulty or fallacy can occur; the total cessation of respiration, pulsation, sensation, and all motion, it might be supposed, would indicate to the least experienced the departure of life, while the general aspect of the body, its pale and livid hue, the coldness of its surface, and the stiffness of its limbs, we might conclude were signs so palpable and satisfactory as to defy the possibility of doubt. To the skilful medical practitioner we apprehend such signs must ever be unequivocal; but we are not prepared to say that a common observer may not be sometimes deceived by them; in cases of extreme debility, as in the latter stage of fever, and where the patient is confined in vitiated air, the exhaustion may be so considerable as to lend all the appearance of death; indeed that such cases have occurred we have no less a testimony than that of the philanthropic Howard, who, in his work on Prisons, says, “I have known instances where persons supposed to be dead of the gaol fever, and brought out for burial, on being washed with cold water, have shewn signs of life, and soon afterwards recovered.” Hippocrates, in his Epidemics, also mentions the case of a woman who, being in appearance dead, from fever, was recovered by throwing thirty amphorÆ of cold water over her body. Diemerbroeck^[3] relates the case of a rustic who having appeared to die of the plague, discovered after three days no signs of respiration, but, on being carried to the grave, recovered and lived many years afterwards; and Paul Zacchias relates an analagous case which occurred at the hospital of Santo Spirito at Rome. At a period when the small-pox raged with such epidemic fury, and physicians so greatly aggravated its violence by their stimulating plan of cure, there can be no doubt but that many persons were condemned as dead who afterwards recovered; amongst the numerous cases that might be cited in support of this opinion, the following may be considered as well authenticated: the daughter of Henry Laurens, the first President of the American congress, when an infant, was laid out as dead, in the small-pox; upon which the window of the apartment, that had been carefully closed during the progress of the disease, was thrown open to ventilate the chamber, when the fresh air revived the supposed corpse, and restored her to her family; this circumstance occasioned in the father so powerful a dread of living interment, that he directed by will that his body should be burnt, and enjoined on his children the performance of this wish as a sacred duty.

We can also imagine, that women, after the exhaustion consequent on severe and protracted labours, may lie for some time in a state so like that of death, as to deceive the by-standers; a very extraordinary case of this kind is related in the Journal des SÇavans, Janvier 1749.

Dr. Gordon Smith, in his work on Forensic Medicine, has observed that in cases of precipitancy or confusion, as in times of public sickness, the living have not unfrequently been mingled with the dead, and that in warm climates, where speedy interment is more necessary than in temperate and cold countries, persons have even been entombed alive; we feel no hesitation in believing that such an event may be possible; but the very case with which the author illustrates his position is sufficient to convince us that its occurrence would be highly culpable, and could only arise from the most unpardonable inattention; “I was” says Dr. Smith, “an eye witness of an instance in a celebrated city on the continent, where a poor woman, yet alive, was solemnly ushered to the margin of the grave in broad day, and whose interment would have deliberately taken place, but for the interposition of the by-standers;” if the casual observer was thus able to detect the signs of animation, the case is hardly one that should have been adduced to shew the difficulty of deciding between real and apparent death. Many other illustrations might be adduced, but it is not our intention to amuse the reader with a relation of those numerous nugÆ canorÆ that enliven several popular productions on the subject of trances, premature interments, and extraordinary resuscitations; the public have always betrayed a morbid curiosity upon the subject, and the stories of persons buried alive have ever found a ready access to our credulity, as well as to our compassion.

Amongst the different anecdotes which have been brought forward in support of the popular belief in the frequency of living interment, and in proof of the fallacy of those signs which are commonly received as the unerring indications of death, we read of numerous instances where the knife of the anatomist has proved the means of resuscitating the supposed corpse; Philippe Peu, the celebrated French accoucheur, relates, himself, the case of a woman, upon whose supposed corpse he proceeded to perform the cÆsarean section, when the first incision betrayed the awful fallacy under which he operated; the history of the unfortunate Vesalius, physician to Philip II. of Spain, furnishes another instance, upon which considerable stress has been laid; upon dissecting a Spanish gentleman, it is said that on opening the thorax the heart was found palpitating; for which he was brought before the inquisition, and would probably have suffered its most severe judgment, had not the king interceded in his behalf, and obtained for him the privilege of expiating his offence by a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.^[4]

M. Bruhier^[5] also relates a case on the authority of M. l’AbbÉ Menon, of a young woman who was restored by the first incision of the anatomist’s scalpel, and lived many years afterwards. With respect to the instance of Vesalius we would make this general observation, which will probably apply to most of the cases on record; that the movements which have been observed on such occasions are not to be received as demonstrations of life, they merely arise from a degree of muscular irritability which often lingers for many hours after dissolution, and which, on its apparent cessation, may be even re-excited by the application of galvanic stimuli.

But there is a propensity in the human mind to believe in these horrors, because between credulity and fear there is an inherent affinity and alliance; and it may be very safely asserted, that there is nothing of which we have a greater instinctive horror,^[6] than of any force by which our voluntary exertions are totally repressed; hence it is, as Cuvier has remarked, that the poetic fictions best calculated to insure our sympathy, are those which represent sentient beings inclosed within immoveable bodies; the sighs of Clorinda issuing, with her blood, from the trunk of the cypress, as related in the fable of Tasso, would arrest the fury of the most savage mortal; and the sufferings which attended the confinement of Ariel, by the witch Sycorax, within the rift of a cloven pine, are described by Prospero as being of so pitiable a description as to move the sympathy of the very beasts of the forest.

The author of the present chapter had once an opportunity of witnessing a most striking manifestation of the popular feeling to which he has just alluded; a sailor, who had died suddenly on board a vessel in Mount’s Bay, was sent on shore for interment on the same evening: this indecent haste in consigning the yet warm corpse of a human being to the grave, excited a very strong and natural feeling in those to whom the fact was communicated; in a few hours the knowledge of the circumstance became general in the town of Penzance, and imagination which, in cases that interest the feelings, is always ready to colour each feature with the hue most congenial to the fancy, soon represented the case as one of living interment, and by midnight the impression had produced so strong an effect upon the credulity of the town, that many hundred persons assembled at the house of the mayor and insisted upon the disinterment of the body; the author, in his professional capacity, was called upon to accompany the magistrates in the investigation, which was accomplished by torch light, amidst an immense concourse of people; the body was disinterred, when, it is almost needless to add, that not the slightest mark was observed that could in the least sanction the popular belief so readily adopted, and enthusiastically maintained.

Within the last few years a singular and unphilosophical work^[7] has appeared from the pen of a learned divine, which is well calculated to cherish the public credulity upon the subject under discussion, and to excite many groundless alarms, as well as unjust expectations, respecting the possibility of latent life; the reverend author, it must be confessed, has furnished a practical proof of his talents in his favourite art of resuscitation, by recalling into life the numerous idle tales, and superstitious histories, that we had hoped had long since been for ever consigned to the “tombs of all the Capulets.” The histories of persons having been buried alive, or recovered after apparent death, are not, however, confined to the annals of modern times; we are informed by Diogenes Laertius that Empedocles acquired great fame for restoring a woman, supposed to be dead, from a paroxysm of hysteria; and Pliny, in his Natural History, devotes a chapter to the subject, under the title of “De his qui elati revixerunt^[8];” in which an interesting case is related of Avicola, whose body was brought out and placed on the funeral pile, the flames of which are said to have resuscitated the unhappy victim, but too late to allow it to be rescued from its powers; but such cases merely go to shew that the common observer may be deceived. We feel no hesitation in asserting that it is physiologically impossible for a human being to remain more than a few minutes in such a state of asphyxia, as not to betray some sign by which a medical observer can at once recognise the existence of vitality, for if the respiration be only suspended for a short interval, we may conclude that life has fled for ever; of all the acts of animal life this is by far the most essential and indispensable; breath and life are very properly considered in the scriptures as convertible terms, and the same synonym, as far as we know, prevails in every language.^[9] However slow and feeble respiration may become by disease, yet it must always be perceptible, provided the naked breast and belly be exposed; for when the intercostal muscles act, the ribs are elevated, and the sternum is pushed forward; when the diaphragm acts, the abdomen swells; now this can never escape the attentive eye, and by looking at the chest and belly we shall form a safer conclusion than by the popular methods which have been usually adopted, such as the placing a vessel of water on the thorax, in order to judge by the stillness or agitation of the fluid; or holding the surface of a mirror before the mouth, which, by condensing the aqueous vapour of the breath, is supposed to denote the existence of respiration, although too feeble to be recognised in any other way.

For the same purpose, light down, or any flocculent substance, from the extreme facility with which it is moved, has been supposed capable of furnishing a similar indication; but the result must not be received as an unequivocal proof, and accordingly Shakspeare, with that knowledge and judgment which so pre-eminently distinguish him, has represented Prince Henry as having been thus deluded, when he carried off the crown from the pillow of Henry the Fourth—

With respect to the above tests it may be remarked, that an imperceptible current of air may agitate the light down, and thus simulate the effects of respiration, while an exhalation, totally unconnected with that function, may sully the surface of a mirror held before the mouth; on the other hand, we have learnt from experience that mirrors have been applied to persons in a state of mere syncope without being in the least tarnished.

Having thus considered the value of the tests of respiration, we shall proceed to appreciate those which have been considered as furnishing no less certain indications of death. The absence of the circulation, the impossibility of feeling the pulsations of the heart and arteries have been regarded as infallible means of deciding whether the individual be dead; but it is proved beyond all doubt that a person may live for several hours without its being possible to perceive the slightest movement in the parts just mentioned. It has been thought also, says Orfila, that an individual was dead when he was cold, and that he still lived if the warmth of the body was preserved; there is perhaps no sign of so little value; the drowned who may be recalled to life, are usually very cold; whilst in cases of apoplexy, and some other fatal diseases, a certain degree of warmth is preserved even for a long period after death. Stiffness of the body is another sign of death upon which great reliance has been placed; but as it sometimes happens that it exists during life, it becomes necessary to point out the difference between the stiffness of death, and that which occurs during life, in certain diseases. For the following observations upon this subject we acknowledge ourselves indebted to the judicious treatise of Orfila.

1. Stiffness may be very considerable in a person who has been frozen, who is not yet dead, and who may even be recalled to life. This stiffness cannot be confounded with that which is the inevitable result of death, because it is known that the body has been exposed to the action of severe cold, and above all because it is very general; in fact, the skin, breasts, the belly, and all the organs may possess the same rigidity as the muscles, a circumstance not observable in cadaverous stiffness, in which the muscles alone present any degree of resistance; besides, when the skin of a frozen person is depressed, by pressing forcibly upon it with the finger, a hollow is produced which is a long time in disappearing. When the position of a frozen limb is changed, a little noise is heard, caused by the rupture of particles of ice contained in the displaced part.

2. The stiffness to which the late M. Nysten has given the name of convulsive, and which sometimes manifests itself in violent nervous diseases, may be easily distinguished from cadaverous stiffness; when a limb is stiff in consequence of convulsions, &c. the greatest difficulty is experienced in changing its direction, and when left, it immediately resumes its former position; it is not the same in stiffness from death; the limb, the direction of which has been changed, does not return to its former position.

3. The stiffness which occurs in certain forms of Syncope, can never be confounded with cadaverous stiffness; for, in the former case, the stiffness takes place immediately after the commencement of the disease, and the trunk preserves a degree of warmth; whereas the cadaverous stiffness is not observed until some time after death, and when the heat of the body is no longer evident to the senses.

If, from a cause which it is not always possible to foresee, the individual who has been thought dead for a long time be cold and flexible, instead of offering a certain degree of stiffness, and at the same time if no evidence of putrefaction has as yet displayed itself, the body ought not to be buried hastily—“Satius est adhiberi millies nimiam diligentiam, quam semel omitti necessariam.”

The cadaverous state of the face, of which Hippocrates has given the following description, has been regarded as a sign of real death; the forehead wrinkled and dry, the eye sunken, the nose pointed, and bordered with a violet or black circle, the temples sunken, hollow, and retired, the ears sticking up, the lips hanging down, the cheeks sunken, the chin wrinkled and hard, the colour of the skin leaden or violet, the hairs of the nose and eye-lashes sprinkled with a kind of yellowish white dust. It must be admitted that such signs, if taken separately, are of no value, since they are sometimes observed in patients twenty-four or forty-eight hours before death; while, on the other hand, they are often absent in cases of sudden dissolution. The softness, dimness, and above all, the flaccidity of the globe of the eye have been considered as very unequivocal in their indication. Professor Louis^[10] has offered some remarks upon this subject worthy our notice; he says that, in the dead, the transparent cornea is commonly covered with a thin slimy membrane, which breaks in pieces when touched, and is easily removed by wiping the cornea; but he remarks that some appearance of it takes place in the eyes of the dying, and also allows that it may be the result of disease; so much for the value of this sign: the one which follows appears to us less exceptionable; in a few hours after death, adds this author, the eyes become soft and flabby, an effect not to be produced under any circumstances in the living body; we join in this opinion; but how often does it happen that the globe of the eye undergoes no alteration in form, until the putrefactive process has been fully established?