“In the course of my wanderings, methought I encountered the celebrated Fire-King, who was sitting at home, quietly smoking his cigar, and calculating that being the destined survivor of all his race, he would succeed to an immense landed estate, and become lord proprietor of the whole earth.”
In the early months of 1843, a wave of Judgement Day fanaticism swept across the East Coast of the United States. Building on a close inspection of biblical texts, a lay preacher and farmer named William Miller had predicted that the end of the world would arrive sometime between March 21st, 1843, and March 21st, 1844. Miller began working on his theory in the early 1820s, and in 1831, he was asked to fill in at the pulpit of the Baptist church in Dresden, New York. Miller used his time centerstage to share his beliefs for the first time publicly. The Dresden congregation was mesmerized, Miller was invited by neighboring parishes to spread the word, and Millerism was born.
By 1840, the Millerite flock had grown beyond the proportions of obscurity. Thousands would come to hear Miller speak, and all manner of unfortunate events were being pinned on the movement, a sure sign of having “made it.” By the time it reached Philadelphia, the opening date of Miller’s prediction loomed large, and all that was left was to laugh.
Laugh is exactly what penny papers like the Public Ledger did. James Kirke Paulding’s satirical piece, “The End of the World: A Vision,” published among those pages in 1843, contains the withering observations of a man bearing witness to the last day of the world, April 1st, during a fireside dream. Granted a reprieve from the screaming heat by some unnamed deal with the devil, our narrator perambulates from place to place, recording his field notes for our amusement of all the many human reactions to the world melting down in judgement.
This is a society filled with nothing but April Fools, and the world Paulding describes is due for a reset, a stage of decline confirmed by our realization that none of the inhabitants seems to be anticipating ascension in their direction of travel.
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Not So Much a Stairway: While our modern society seems utterly unconcerned with any such Judgement Day determinations, this was an evergreen concern to most civilizations that came before us. Heck, even Henry VIII was deeply obsessed with maintaining a path to heaven as he separated from the Pope in Rome over his not-a-marriage to Katharine of Aragon…that was, ironically, the whole point.
Shortly before Henricus Rex arrived on the scene, Hieronymus Bosch was busy painting all manner of imaginative deprivations that intrigued the mind and offered a glimpse of the afterlife. One such series, Visions of the Hereafter, presented all the options and is worth a closer inspection. Learn more about it and take in some quality close-ups here.
Can’t Take It With You: Paulding does an admirable job showcasing the hilarity of hypocrisy embedded in his characters’ final wishes. If only they had spent money this way and not that, or made this deal and not another—all the while, their regrets and wishes might have improved their earthly station but not their everlasting one.
One ridiculous but small luxury I am certain I will never regret is the countertop jar I keep readily stocked with Lakrids by Bulow chocolate-covered licorice. Discovered while attending a food show in California as I explored the concept of opening a petite specialty grocery storefront, these little gems were hands-down the best thing I tasted across three days of sampling. The business idea may have gone by the wayside, but I have kept up the one-a-day confection habit ever since. The sweet-maker offers many winning flavors that are changed seasonally; I anxiously await the return of their perfectly tart and creamy Læmon.
“Jean Gourdon’s Four Days, Spring” by Émile Zola, 1874
“The Waste Land” by T. S. Eliot, 1922
“The Ransom of Red Chief” by O. Henry, 1907
