E Clampus Vitus: the register of early lodges

Dated Connersville, 20 February 1846, signed “W.” The letter defends the mesmerist I. I. Keely, whose lectures had restored a deaf man’s hearing, and turns on the skeptics: “‘Stewart,’ our editor, who has just returned from the State Legislature, who believes himself to be the only wise man in the County, … has boldly brayed ‘humbug.’ But he is not alone. The long eared editor of the ‘Cambridge Reveille’ came out in a long and labored article; exposing his ignorance in reference to the history of Mesmerism. To both of these learned expositors of news our citizens are universally of the opinion that they are naturally qualified members of the ‘Eclampsus Vitus’ society, an order of which, we have in our town.”

The earliest dated mention of the order yet found anywhere.

“The members of Tent No. 43 of the order of Eclampees Vitus are notified to meet in their Hall on Thursday Evening, July 16, at early candle lighting, attired in full regalia. A general attendance is requested. By order.”

The first Secret Society, of which there is any record, was a Lodge of the “Ancient and Honorable Order of the Eclampsus Vitus,” which was instituted in the spring of 1846, with Dr. E. J. Bonine, Laban Harter, J. P. Osborn and Dr. L. Osborn as charter members.

The Order was in broadest burlesque of legitimate secret organizations and was afterward merged in the “Sons of Malta,” which died from exposure (by Frank Leslie) in the next decade.

The candidates for admission were bound fast, blindfolded and dragged into the hall by halters. They were placed in the most ludicrous positions and required to pledge themselves to performances and courses of conduct which, by a cunningly devised double entendre in the wording of the pledges, were either impossible or eminently ridiculous.

A peculiarity of human nature, which renders the victim of a “sell” restless and unhappy until he has inveigled others into the same meshes, insured the rapid growth and financial prosperity of this monstrous hoax. Numerous neophites were found to assuage the grief and soothe the wounded pride of the earlier victims.

A grand ball was given by the Lodge in the winter of 1846–7, at the Union Hotel, at which over two hundred badges of the “Ancient and Honorable Order” were displayed, and that, too, by men who stood among the highest in popular esteem and respectability.

The (dis) Order collapsed in 1847, partly from lack of raw material and partly from a growing satiety amounting to disgust on the part of the better portion of the members, but it was successfully resurrected in 1860, under the alias of “The Brothers of Charity.”

The second edition, although enlarged and improved, was of “few days and full of trouble” to all except the charter (?) members.

“The committee on corporations, to which was referred bill of the House No. 242, entitled ‘An act to incorporate the Jackson Lodge of the ancient order of Eclampses Vitus, of Centreville, Indiana,’ have had the same under consideration, and are not able to ascertain from the bill itself what objects are to be attained by the proposed corporation; but if they are correctly informed from other sources, the bill is for the benefit of a species of animals with which the country is now abundantly supplied, and of which it is not desirable either to increase the number or improve the breed. They therefore recommend that it be indefinitely postponed.”

In 1847, while I was reading law, there came to Bedford, from the west, a traveling agent for a patented invention of a cutting-box. He instituted a new secret society called the Ecclampsis Vitis. It was in truth a burlesque on all secret societies—an exaggerated travesty, full of fun and very enjoyable for the younger members. The secret of the thing was wonderfully well kept for many weeks, and the society flourished and had grown to large proportions, with numerous candidates for initiation, at the time of the dénouement, which resulted in its downfall.

The society was constituted with a worthy patriarch and two past grand worthy patriarchs, with out-door sentinels and in-door sentinels, and divers other officers. The ceremony of initiation was formal, solemn and imposing. The place of meeting was the grand jury room of the court house, quite a large room, now divided by a partition into two rooms, one of which is used as the sheriff’s office and the other by the recorder of deeds.

Behind a long table sat the grand worthy patriarch, Joe Mann, as homely a specimen of humanity as you could find in a week’s travel, who was then a student-at-law. He was supported on either side by the past grand worthies, John Ottinger and Ben Cromwell. The only light in the room was a short piece of tallow candle, which stood in the center of the table in front of the worthy patriarch, without a candle-stick, supported in an upright position by a spot of its own grease, dropped on the table for that purpose. The dim light only served to make darkness visible and show the eyes of the circle of members who sat around on chairs and benches.

[Here Hall describes the initiation itself. It is left out of this transcription, out of respect for the order.]

Well, we had a torch-light procession all over town and a speech. Jacques W. Johnson, a young lawyer, delivered an oration on the order in the court house. Judge Black was there to hear it, and old Mr. Russell and all the beauty and the chivalry of the village. Johnson’s oration was in manuscript, and Judge Black borrowed it and read it through with a great deal of pleasure, he said. He couldn’t understand, however, how the society existed without levying contributions on its members; he couldn’t possibly see or comprehend where the funds came from. But that was a mystery only to be learned by initiation into the royal arch degree, and the judge did not seem willing to go that far.

John Ottinger and Ben Cromwell were made past grand worthies because of their ability to sit and look wise with grave faces. Nothing would stir the facial expression of either into animation except the immediate prospect of a drop of old rye.

One of the laughable features of the meetings was to call upon P. G. W. Ottinger for a story. During the intervals of initiation, a brother would rise and gravely move that P. G. W. Ottinger now favor the lodge with the narration of some little incident or story from his extensive repertory. This being voted, in response, Ottinger told always the same story, utterly oblivious that he had ever told it before. It became a matter of absorbing interest to see how often he would, with no glimmer of recollection that he had previously told it, retell the story, and as long as the institution survived, some eight or ten weeks, Ottinger repeated, with a grave face, the same little story, and wound up with a peculiar laugh, which contorted his face but gave forth no sound, except a rumble, as if a laugh was rolling around somewhere in the cavities of his capacious abdominal development.

Cromwell rode at the head of the torch-light procession, as chief marshal, on a gray horse. The regalia was a strip of muslin about two yards long and four inches wide, which passed over the right shoulder and was fastened in a knot at the waist on the left side, ornamented with a star cut out of the heavy purple colored paper that loaf sugar used to come in. For the officers the muslin was blue. The torches were balls of candle wick soaked in turpentine and fastened with wire upon upright sticks. The Bedford band headed the procession.

Samuel Shuck was chairman of the committee on regalia, and John H. Filler of the committee on torch lights.

Dr. Keyser was the first man to betray the order. He had been peculiarly anxious for initiation. His name was pending a good while before he was voted in. Somehow we feared he might divulge it, and hesitated to trust him. His anxiety to join sprang from an idea that the order was going to be a great power socially and politically—just the thing for a rising young doctor to belong to.

But Keyser, when initiated, got furiously mad, and would not be placated, and denounced the order as a burlesque. We talked some of drowning him, but didn’t do it. Our fun was done for, and the ancient and venerable order of Ecclampsis Vitis passed away forever, so far as the village of Bedford was concerned. But we had fun—lots of it—while it lasted.

[Communicated.] Much curiosity having been expressed in reference to the new order introduced recently into Virginia, called the “E. Clampus Vitas,” [I] am happy to inform the public that I have discovered the secret, and hasten to make it known, notwithstanding the danger I run from the fraternity’s resenting the development. E. Clampus Vitas, is dog Latin, and means “squeezing the life out of you.” [The writer’s account of the ceremony is left out of this transcription.] It is expected that this exposure will break up the fraternity of E. Clampus Vitas.

A PEQUOD.

“THE MEMBERS of the E. C. V. are requested to meet at their hall on the corner of El Dorado and Centre streets, this evening at 8 o’clock, P. M., a full attendance is requested as business of importance will be brought before the order, by order of the [N.] G. H.”

The scan reads “W. G. H.”; the order’s chief officer signed as N. G. H., Noble Grand Humbug.

“We understand that our venerable friend Ephraim Bee, the member from Doddridge county … has set up his tabernacle at the McLure House, and is now initiating candidates for immortal honors into the mysteries of the ancient order of the ‘E. Clampus Vitis,’ of which order Mr. Bee is the recognized American head, as much so as Mr. Wilday [Wildey] was of the Odd Fellows. … The Hon. Caleb Cushing, of Massachusetts, is said to be the man who brought the secrets of the order to this country, and communicated them to Mr. Bee.”

“The Clampers have turned loose again at Sierraville. The Clamps Petrix and the Clamps Vitrix have dusted out the Sanhedrim, and the Royal Platrix has sounded the hewgag. Satisfactory[!]”

Unprecedented proceedings were had in the Senate this morning, on the presentation of a resolution, praying that body to grant the use of their chamber for the meetings of the “E. Clampsus Vitus” Society. The resolution was supported seriously and earnestly by many Senators, which called forth equally spirited remarks from opponents.

Mr. Wambaugh considered this “E Clampsus Vitus” nothing more than a burlesque upon secret societies—he was anxious that Senators who were so desirous for the passage of this resolution should record their votes in favor of it, and send them forth to the world. He could scarcely be prevailed upon to vote for a chaplain to occupy a legislative hall, and he would rather cut his right arm off than vote for the resolution.

Mr. Coffroth assumed the last speaker to know nothing of the society or its objects. He begged to remind him that among its members were numbered one Senator, who was the head and front of the association in the State, and also the eloquent and accomplished Chairman of the Committee on Personal Beauty, the editor of the San Joaquin Republican, besides high and low, all over the country.

The Senator referred to then arose, and said that the opposition of the member from Colusa was attributable to the fact ef his having been “black-balled” by the society.

The member from Mariposa, although a member of the renowned “E Clampsus Vitus,” was opposed to granting the use of the hall to any societies, of any description.

The resolution was, very properly, laid on the table.

“ef” is the printer’s. The Daily Alta California of the same day adds: “Mr. Wambough moved to strike from the journal all proceedings had in relation to the ‘E Clampsus Vitus’ Association. Carried, 10 to 7.”

I give you the following report of a very interesting discussion that occurred this morning in the Senate:

“Mr. De la Guerra introduced a resolution granting to the ancient and honorable order of ‘E Clampsus Vitus’ the use of the Senate chamber, when not otherwise occupied.

Mr. Colgrove urged the passage of the resolution. The order was one highly renowned in ancient and modern times, and comprised among its members many of the most distinguished names of our country. Looking around the Senate chamber he discovered a number of honorable senators who were ornaments of the order, and outside the bar were also several members of the press, belonging to the society prominent among whom was one alike distinguished for his graces of manner and mind. He hoped those gentlemen would be gratified in their request.

Mr. Lind moved to lay the resolution on the table. Lost.

Mr. Wombough hoped for the reputation of the Senate, the resolution would not go upon the journal. The order was nothing more than a burlesque upon secret societies. He could scarcely be prevailed upon to vote for a chaplain to occupy the hall, and he would rather cut his right arm off than vote for granting it to such purposes.

A Senator remarked that the last Senator must have been black-balled, judging from his inveterate opposition.

Mr. Wade, although a member of the order, was opposed to the resolution.

On motion of Mr. Wombough, the resolution was indefinitely postponed—ayes 9, nays 7.”

I should tell you that the N. G. H. of the State was present and gave the Grand Sign.

I am indisposed—so no more at present from Benicia.

No senator named Colgrove sat in 1853; the Sacramento Daily Union gives the same speech to James W. Coffroth.

E Clampsus Vitus.

[TH]ERE will be a grand gala festival in [.]n full regalia—on the first of August [.] in this place.

[O]ur San Juan brethren, of special de[gree] of B. A. H. & P. in good standing, [are r]equested to attend.

By order of the M. G. H. [M]onterey, July 14, 1855.

Letters in square brackets are lost in the binding of the bound volume; [.] marks a letter or two that cannot be read.