Funeral Elegy to be most universally admired and used in New
England. There is scarce a plough jogger or country cobler that has
read our Psalms and can make two lines jingle, who has not once in
his life at least exercised his talent in this way. Nor is there
one country house in fifty which has not its walls garnished with
half a Score of these sort of Poems which praise the Dead to the
Life.
When a Puritan died his friends conspired in mournful concert, or
labored individually and painfully, to bring forth as tributes of grief
and respect, rhymed elegies, anagrams, epitaphs, acrostics, epicediums,
and threnodies; and singularly enough, seemed to reserve for these
gloomy tributes their sole attempt at facetiousness. Ingenious quirks
and puns, painful and complicate jokes (printed in italics that you may
not escape nor mistake them) bestrew these funeral verses. If a man
chanced to have a name of any possible twist of signification, such as
Green, Stone, Blackman, in doleful puns did he posthumously suffer; and
his friends and relatives endured vicariously also, for to them these
grinning death's-heads of rhymes were widely distributed.
It was with a keen sense of that humor which comes, as Sydney Smith
says, from sudden and unexpected contrast, that I read a heavily
bordered sheet entitled in large letters, "A Grammarian's Funeral." It
was printed at the death of Schoolmaster Woodmancey, and was so much
admired that it was brought forth again at the demise of Ezekiel
Cheever, who died in 1708 after no less than seventy years of
school-teaching. I think we may truly say of him, teaching at
ninety-three years of age,
"With throttling hands of death at strife,
Ground he at grammar."
For the consideration and investigation of Browning Societies, I give a
few lines from this New England conception of a Grammarian's Funeral.
"Eight parts of Speech This Day wear Mourning Gowns,
_Declin'd_ Verbs, Pronouns, Participles, and Nouns.
The Substantive seeming the limbed best
Would set an hand to bear him to his _Rest_
The Adjective with very grief did say
Hold me by Strength or I shall faint away.
Great Honour was conferred on _Conjugations_
They were to follow next to the _Relations_
* * * * *
But Lego said, by me his got his Skill
And therefore next the Herse I follow will
A Doleful Day for _Verbs_ they look so _Moody_
They drove Spectators to a mournful Study."
I have a strong suspicion that this funeral poem may have been learned
by heart by succeeding generations of Boston scholars, as a sort of
grammatical memory-rhyme--a mournful study, indeed.
Funeral sermons were also printed, with trappings of sombreness,
black-bordered, with death's-heads and crossbones on the covers. These
sermons were not, however, preached at the time of the funeral, save in
exceptional cases. It is said that one was delivered at the funeral of
President Chauncey in 1671. Cotton Mather preached one at the funeral of
Fitz-John Winthrop in 1707, and another at the funeral of Waitstill
Winthrop in 1717. Gradually there crept in the custom of having suitable
prayers at the house before the burial procession formed, the first
instance being probably at the funeral of Pastor Adams, of Roxbury, in
1683. Sometimes a short address was given at the grave, as when Jonathan
Alden was buried at Duxbury, in 1697. The _Boston News Letter_ of
December 31, 1730, notes a prayer at a funeral, and says: "Tho' a custom
in the Country-Towns 'tis a Singular instance in this Place, but it's
wish'd may prove a Leading Example to the General Practice of so
Christian and Decent a Custom." Whitefield wrote disparagingly of the
custom of not speaking at the grave.
We see Judge Sewall mastering his grief at his mother's burial, delaying
for a few moments the filling of the grave, and speaking some very
proper words of eulogy "with passion and tears." He jealously notes,
however, when the Episcopal burial service is given in Boston, saying:
"The Office for the dead is a Lying bad office, makes no difference
between the precious and the Vile."
There were, as a rule, two sets of bearers appointed; under-bearers,
usually young men, who carried the coffin on a bier; and pall-bearers,
men of age, dignity, or consanguinity, who held the corners of the pall
which was spread over the coffin and hung down over the heads and bodies
of the under-bearers. As the coffin was sometimes carried for a long
distance, there were frequently appointed a double set of under-bearers,
to share the burden. I have been told that mort-stones were set by the
wayside in some towns, upon which the bearers could rest the heavy
coffin for a short time on their way to the burial-place; but I find no
record or proof of this statement. The pall, or bier-cloth, or
mort-cloth, as it was called, was usually bought and owned by the town,
and was of heavy purple, or black broadcloth, or velvet. It often was
kept with the bier in the porch of the meeting-house; but in some
communities the bier, a simple shelf or table of wood on four legs about
a foot and a half long, was placed over the freshly filled-in grave and
left sombrely waiting till it was needed to carry another coffin to the
burial-place. In many towns there were no gravediggers; sympathizing
friends made the simple coffin and dug the grave.
In Londonderry, N. H., and neighboring towns that had been settled by
Scotch-Irish planters, the announcement of a death was a signal for
cessation of daily work throughout the neighborhood. Kindly assistance
was at once given at the house of mourning. Women flocked to do the
household work and to prepare the funeral feast. Men brought gifts of
food, or household necessities, and rendered all the advice and help
that was needed. A gathering was held the night before the funeral,
which in feasting and drinking partook somewhat of the nature of an
Irish wake. Much New England rum was consumed at this gathering, and
also before the procession to the grave, and after the interment the
whole party returned to the house for an "arval," and drank again. The
funeral rum-bill was often an embarrassing and hampering expense to a
bereaved family for years.
This liberal serving of intoxicating liquor at a funeral was not
peculiar to these New Hampshire towns, nor to the Scotch-Irish, but
prevailed in every settlement in the colonies until the
temperance-awakening days of this century. Throughout New England bills
for funeral baked meats were large in items of rum, cider, whiskey,
lemons, sugar, spices.
To show how universally liquor was served to all who had to do with a
funeral, let me give the bill for the mortuary expenses of David
Porter, of Hartford, who was drowned in 1678.
"By a pint of liquor for those who dived for him. 1_s._
By a quart of liquor for those who bro't him home. 2_s._
By two quarts of wine & 1 gallon of cyder to jury
of inquest. 5_s._
By 8 gallons & 3 qts. wine for funeral. £1 15_s._
By Barrel cyder for funeral. 16_s._
1 Coffin. 12_s._
Windeing sheet. 18_s._"
Even town paupers had two or three gallons of rum or a barrel of cider
given by the town to serve as speeding libations at their unmourned
funerals. The liquor at the funeral of a minister was usually paid for
by the church or town--often interchangeable terms for the same body.
The parish frequently gave, also, as in the case of the death of Rev.
Job Strong, of Portsmouth, in 1751, "the widow of our deceased pasture a
full suit of mourning."
A careful, and above all an experienced committee was appointed to
superintend the mixing of the funeral grog or punch, and to attend to
the liberal and frequent dispensing thereof.
Hawthorne was so impressed with the enjoyable reunion New Englanders
found in funerals that he wrote of them:
"They were the only class of scenes, so far as my investigation has
taught me, in which our ancestors were wont to steep their tough
old hearts in wine and strong drink and indulge in an outbreak of
grisly jollity. Look back through all the social customs of New
England in the first century of her existence and read all her
traits of character, and find one occasion other than a funeral
feast where jollity was sanctioned by universal practice.... Well,
old friends! Pass on with your burden of mortality and lay it in
the tomb with jolly hearts. People should be permitted to enjoy
themselves in their own fashion; every man to his taste--but New
England must have been a dismal abode for the man of pleasure when
the only boon-companion was Death."
This picture has been given by Sargent of country funerals in the days
of his youth:
"When I was a boy, and was at an academy in the country, everybody
went to everybody's funeral in the village. The population was
small, funerals rare; the preceptor's absence would have excited
remark, and the boys were dismissed for the funeral. A table with
liquors was always provided. Every one, as he entered, took off his
hat with his left hand, smoothed down his hair with his right,
walked up to the coffin, gazed upon the corpse, made a crooked
face, passed on to the table, took a glass of his favorite liquor,
went forth upon the plat before the house and talked politics, or
of the new road, or compared crops, or swapped heifers or horses
until it was time to _lift_. A clergyman told me that when settled
at Concord, N. H., he officiated at the funeral of a little boy. The
body was borne in a chaise, and six little nominal pall-bearers,
the oldest not thirteen, walked by the side of the vehicle. Before
they left the house a sort of master of ceremonies took them to the
table and mixed a tumbler of gin, water, and sugar for each."
It was a hard struggle against established customs and ideas of
hospitality, and even of health, when the use of liquor at funerals was
abolished. Old people sadly deplored the present and regretted the past.
One worthy old gentleman said, with much bitterness: "Temperance has
done for funerals."
As soon as the larger cities began to accrue wealth, the parentations of
men and women of high station were celebrated with much pomp and
dignity, if not with religious exercises. Volleys were fired over the
freshly made grave--even of a woman. A barrel and a half of powder was
consumed to do proper honor to Winthrop, the chief founder of
Massachusetts. At the funeral of Deputy-Governor Francis Willoughby
eleven companies of militia were in attendance, and "with the doleful
noise of trumpets and drums, in their mourning posture, three thundering
volleys of shot were discharged, answered with the loud roarings of
great guns rending the heavens with noise at the loss of so great a
man." When Governor Leverett died, in 1679, the bearers carried banners.
The principal men of the town bore the armor of the deceased, from
helmet to spur, and the Governor's horse was led with banners. The
funeral-recording Sewall has left us many a picture of the pomp of
burial. Colonel Samuel Shrimpton was buried "with Arms" in 1697, "Ten
Companies, No Herse nor Trumpet but a horse Led. Mourning Coach also &
Horses in Mourning, Scutcheons on their sides and Deaths Heads on their
foreheads." Fancy those coach-horses with gloomy death's-heads on their
foreheads. At the funeral of Lady Andros, which was held in church, six
"mourning women" sat in front of the draped pulpit, and the hearse was
drawn by six horses. This English fashion of paid mourners was not
common among sincere New Englanders; Lady Andros was a Church of England
woman, not a Puritan. The cloth from the pulpit was usually given, after
the burial, to the minister. In 1736 the _Boston News Letter_ tells of
the pulpit and the pew of the deceased being richly draped and adorned
with escutcheons at a funeral. Thus were New England men, to quote Sir
Thomas Browne, "splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave."
Many local customs prevailed. In Hartford and neighboring towns all
ornaments, mirrors, and pictures were muffled with napkins and cloths at
the time of the funerals, and sometimes the window-shutters were kept
closed in the front of the house and tied together with black for a
year, as was the fashion in Philadelphia.
Hawthorne tells us that at the death of Sir William Pepperell the entire
house was hung with black, and all the family portraits were covered
with black crape.
The order of procession to the grave was a matter of much etiquette.
High respect and equally deep slights might be rendered to mourners in
the place assigned. Usually some magistrate or person of dignity walked
with the widow. Judge Sewall often speaks of "leading the widow in a
mourning cloak."
One great expense of a funeral was the gloves. In some communities
these were sent as an approved and elegant form of invitation to
relatives and friends and dignitaries, whose presence was desired.
Occasionally, a printed "invitation to follow the corps" was also sent.
One for the funeral of Sir William Phipps is still in existence--a
fantastically gloomy document. In the case of a funeral of any person
prominent in State, Church, or society, vast numbers of gloves were
disbursed; "none of 'em of any figure but what had gloves sent to 'em."
At the funeral of the wife of Governor Belcher, in 1736, over one
thousand pairs of gloves were given away; at the funeral of Andrew
Faneuil three thousand pairs; the number frequently ran up to several
hundred. Different qualities of gloves were presented at the same
funeral to persons of different social circles, or of varied degrees of
consanguinity or acquaintance. Frequently the orders for these _vales_
were given in wills. As early as 1633 Samuel Fuller, of Plymouth,
directed in his will that his sister was to have gloves worth twelve
shillings; Governor Winthrop and his children each "a paire of gloves of
five shilling;" while plebeian Rebecca Prime had to be contented with a
cheap pair worth two shillings and sixpence. The under-bearers who
carried the coffin were usually given different and cheaper gloves from
the pall-bearers. We find seven pairs of gloves given at a pauper's
funeral, and not under the head of "Extrodny Chearges" either.
Of course the minister was always given gloves. They were showered on
him at weddings, christenings, funerals. Andrew Eliot, of the North
Church, in Boston, kept a record of the gloves and rings which he
received; and, incredible as it may seem, in thirty-two years he was
given two thousand nine hundred and forty pairs of gloves. Though he had
eleven children, he and his family could scarcely wear them all, so he
sold them through kindly Boston milliners, and kept a careful account of
the transaction, of the lamb's-wool gloves, the kid gloves, the long
gloves--which were probably Madam Eliot's. He received between six and
seven hundred dollars for the gloves, and a goodly sum also for funeral
rings.
Various kinds of gloves are specified as suitable for mourning; for
instance, in the _Boston Independent Advertiser_ in 1749, "Black Shammy
Gloves and White Glazed Lambs Wool Gloves suitable for Funerals." White
gloves were as often given as black, and purple gloves also. Good
specimens of old mourning gloves have been preserved in the cabinets of
the Worcester Society of Antiquity.
At the funeral of Thomas Thornhill "17 pair of White Gloves at £1 15_s._
6_d._, 31-1/2 yard Corle for Scarfs £3 10_s._ 10-1/2_d._, and Black and
White Ribbin" were paid for. In 1737 Sir William Pepperell sent to
England for "4 pieces Hat mourning and 2 pieces of Cyprus or Hood
mourning." This hat mourning took the form of long weepers, which were
worn on the hat at the funeral, and as a token of respect afterward by
persons who were not relatives of the deceased. Judge Sewall was always
punctilious in thus honoring the dead in his community. On May 2, 1709,
he writes thus:
"Being artillery day and Mr. Higginson dead I put on my mourning
Rapier and put a mourning ribbon in my little Cane."
Rings were given at funerals, especially in wealthy families, to near
relatives and persons of note in the community. Sewall records in his
diary, in the years from 1687 to 1725, the receiving of no less than
fifty-seven mourning rings. We can well believe the story told of Doctor
Samuel Buxton, of Salem, who died in 1758, aged eighty-one years, that
he left to his heirs a quart tankard full of mourning rings which he had
received at funerals; and that Rev. Andrew Eliot had a mugful. At one
Boston funeral, in 1738, over two hundred rings were given away. At
Waitstill Winthrop's funeral sixty rings, worth over a pound apiece,
were given to friends. The entire expense of the latter-named
funeral--scutcheons, hatchments, scarves, gloves, rings, bell-tolling,
tailor's bills, etc., was over six hundred pounds. This amounted to
one-fifth of the entire estate of the deceased gentleman.
These mourning rings were of gold, usually enamelled in black, or black
and white. They were frequently decorated with a death's-head, or with a
coffin with a full-length skeleton lying in it, or with a winged skull.
Sometimes they held a framed lock of hair of the deceased friend.
Sometimes the ring was shaped like a serpent with his tail in his
mouth. Many bore a posy. In the _Boston News Letter_ of October 30,
1742, was advertised: "Mourning Ring lost with the Posy Virtue & Love is
From Above." Here is another advertisement from the _Boston Evening
Post_:
"Escaped unluckily from me
A Large Gold Ring, a Little Key;
The Ring had Death engraved upon it;
The Owners Name inscribed within it;
Who finds and brings the same to me
Shall generously rewarded be."
A favorite motto for these rings was: "Death parts United Hearts."
Another was the legend: "Death conquers all;" another, "Prepare for
Death;" still another, "Prepared be To follow me." Other funeral rings
bore a family crest in black enamel.
Goldsmiths kept these mourning rings constantly on hand. "Deaths Heads
Rings" and "Burying Rings" appear in many newspaper advertisements. When
bought for use the name or initials of the dead person, and the date of
his death, were engraved upon the ring. This was called fashioning. It
is also evident from existing letters and bills that orders were sent by
bereaved ones to friends residing at a distance to purchase and wear
mourning rings in memory of the dead, and send the bills to the heirs or
the principals of the mourning family. Thus, after the death of Andrew,
son of Sir William Pepperell, Mr. Kilby, of London, wrote to the father
that he accepted "that melancholy token of y'r regard to Mrs. K. and
myself at the expense of four guineas in the whole. But, as is not
unusual here on such occasions, Mrs. K. has, at her own expense, added
some sparks of diamonds to some other mournful ornaments to the ring,
which she intends to wear."
It is very evident that old New Englanders looked with much eagerness to
receiving a funeral ring at the death of a friend, and in old diaries,
almanacs, and note-books such entries as this are often seen: "Made a
ring at the funeral," "A death's-head ring made at the funeral of so and
so;" or, as Judge Sewall wrote, "Lost a ring" by not attending the
funeral. The will of Abigail Ropes, in 1775, gives to her grandson "a
gold ring I made at his father's death;" and again, "a gold ring made
when my bro. died."
As with gloves, rings of different values were given to relatives of
different degrees of consanguinity, and to friends of different stations
in life; much tact had to be shown, else much offence might be taken.
I do not know how long the custom of giving mourning rings obtained in
New England. Some are in existence dated 1812, but were given at the
funeral of aged persons who may have left orders to their descendants to
cling to the fashion of their youth.
A very good collection of mourning rings may be seen at the rooms of the
Essex Institute in Salem, and that society has also published a pamphlet
giving a list of such rings known to be in existence in Salem.
As years passed on a strong feeling sprang up against these gifts and
against the excessive wearing of mourning garments because burdensome in
expense. Judge Sewall notes, in 1721, the first public funeral "without
scarfs." In 1741 it was ordered by Massachusetts Provincial Enactment
that "no Scarves, Gloves (except six pair to the bearers and one pair to
each minister of the church or congregation where any deceased person
belongs), Wine, Rum, or rings be allowed to be given at any funeral upon
the penalty of fifty pounds." The _Connecticut Courant_ of October 24,
1764, has a letter from a Boston correspondent which says, "It is now
out of fashion to put on mourning for nearest relatives, which will make
a saving to this town of £20,000 per annum." It also states that a
funeral had been held at Charlestown at which no mourning had been worn.
At that of Ellis Callender in the same year, the chief mourner wore in
black only bonnet, gloves, ribbons, and handkerchief. Letters are in
existence from Boston merchants to English agents rebuking the latter
for sending mourning goods, such as crapes, "which are not worn." A
newly born and fast-growing spirit of patriotic revolt gave added force
to the reform. Boston voted, in October, 1767, "not to use any mourning
gloves but what are manufactured here," and other towns passed similar
resolutions. It was also suggested that American mourning gloves be
stamped with a patriotic emblem. In 1788 a fine of twenty shillings was
imposed on any person who gave scarfs, gloves, rings, wine, or rum at a
funeral; who bought any new mourning apparel to wear at or after a
funeral, save a crape arm-band if a masculine mourner, or black bonnet,
fan, gloves, and ribbons if a woman. This law could never have been
rigidly enforced, for much gloomy and ostentatious pomp obtained in the
larger towns even to our own day. "From the tombs a mournful sound"
seemed to be fairly a popular sound, and the long funeral processions,
always taking care to pass the Town House, churches, and other public
buildings, obstructed travel, and men were appointed in each town by the
selectmen to see that "free passage in the streets be kept open."
Funerals were forbidden to be held on the Lord's Day, because it
profaned the sacred day, through the vast concourse of children and
servants that followed the coffin through the streets.
Some attempt was made to regulate funeral expenses. In Salem a tolling
of the bell could cost but eightpence, and "the sextons are desired to
toll the bells but four strokes in a minute." The undertakers could
charge but eight shillings for borrowing chairs, waiting on the
pall-holders, and notifying relatives to attend.
The early graves were frequently clustered, were even crowded in
irregular groups in the churchyard; and in larger towns, the
dead--especially persons of dignity--were buried, as in England, under
the church. Sargent, in his "Dealings with the Dead," speaks at length
of the latter custom, which prevailed to an inordinate extent in Boston.
In smaller settlements some out-of-the-way spot was chosen for a common
burial-place, in barren pasture or on lonely hillside, thus forcibly
proving the well-known lines of Whittier,
"Our vales are sweet with fern and rose,
Our hills are maple crowned,
But not from them our fathers chose
The village burial ground.
"The dreariest spot in all the land
To Death they set apart;
With scanty grace from Nature's hand
And none from that of Art."
To the natural loneliness of the country burial-place and to its
inevitable sadness, is now too frequently added the gloomy and
depressing evidence of human neglect. Briers and weeds grow in tangled
thickets over the forgotten graves; birch-trees and barberry bushes
spring up unchecked. In one a thriving grove of lilac bushes spreads its
dusty shade from wall to wall. Winter-killed shrubs of flowering almond
or snowballs, planted in tender memory, stand now withered and unheeded,
and the few straggling garden flowers--crimson phlox or single
hollyhocks--that still live only painfully accent the loneliness by
showing that this now forgotten spot was once loved, visited, and cared
for.
In many cases the worn gravestone lies forlornly face downward;
sometimes,