BURIALS AND FUNERALS
“It is a common use to entertain
The knowledge of a great man by his train:
How great’s the _dead man_ then? There’s none that be
So backed with troops of _followers_ as he.”
QUARLES.
There is a tale told in Wales of a certain Sion Kent, who agreed with
the Devil to surrender to him body and soul whether he were buried
in or out of the Church. But, directing that his body should be laid
beneath the church wall, he evaded the compact. It is not often that
funeral directions have such eternal issues hanging upon them, but
frequently in wills they are given due or elaborate consideration.
“True it is,” says Fuller, “bodies flung in a bog will not stick there
at the day of judgment; cast into a wood, will find out the way;
thrown into a dungeon, will have free egress; left on the highway, are
still in the ready road to the resurrection. Yet seeing they are the
tabernacles of the soul, yea, the temples of the Holy Ghost, the Jews
justly began, the Christians commendably continue, the custom of their
solemn interment.”
Directions for the disposal of the body, and for the ceremony that
shall attend it, are of outstanding interest both for historical and
psychological reasons. As one peruses them there rise in the mind
innumerable thoughts and fancies of sad or humorous import. Every
phase of human nature is illustrated from pompous pride to lowliest
humility, from pious reverence to vulgar unconventionality, from love
of lamentation and display to hatred of mourning and show. Between the
hours of death and of burial seem to cluster many of man’s most quaint
ideas; here lies a harvest-ground for the student, and in the records
of wills rich treasures may be discovered.
Perhaps few scenes of pageantry will live in the memory more than
the funeral procession of Henry V., at Fulham, with its multitudes
of lights and figures solemnly moving through the dusk. Such a
reconstruction of the past, with its Catholic rites and ritual, its
appeal to religious emotion, illustrates the picturesque scenes and
ceremonies that lie behind the words of a will. Sometimes these
directions are given at great length and with lavish elaboration. But
not all can command magnificence in death, and the will of Henry VII.’s
tailor may be quoted as typical of the common sort.
“In the name of God, Amen. The IIIIth day of the month of March, the
year of our Lord God 1503, and the XIXth year of the reign of King
Henry VIIth, I George Lovekyn, citizen of London, and tailor to our
said sovereign lord the King, being whole of mind and in good memory,
thanked be Almighty Jesu, make ordain and dispose this my present
testament and last will in manner and form ensuing, that is to wit:
First I bequeath and commend my soul to Almighty God my Maker and
Saviour and to His blessed Mother, our Lady Saint Mary the Virgin, and
to Saint George the holy martyr, and to all the holy company of heaven,
and my body to be buried in the parish Church of St. Mary Wolnoth in
Lombard Street of London afore the font there under the chapel of St.
George by me there late made, that is to say in or by the burying place
of Jane my first wife which lieth there buried, on whom Jesu have
mercy. And I will that I have at my funeral XVI torches burning to
be borne and holden by poor men to bring me to my burying place. And
I will and desire if it conveniently may be that the four orders of
friars mendicant of London shall accompany my body to the said burying
place....”
It is said that St. Swithun, when he died in 862, on his death-bed
ordered his monks to inter him not in a stately shrine, but in a
“mean place outside the door, where the foot of the passer-by might
tread, and the rain water his grave.” To be beneath the feet of priest
or worshipper was not an uncommon wish, and probably, in many cases
at least, was a desire for remembrance as much as, or more than, a
symbol of humility. Thus Gilbert Carleton, Vicar of Farningham in
1503, wishes “to be buried in the Parish Church of Farningham in
one of two places as can be thought most convenient by my friends,
either before the high altar in the chancel there, so that my feet
may be under the priest’s feet standing at mass, or else under the
step coming in at the Church door, so that every creature coming in at
the same door may tread upon my burial.” Similarly Richard-sans-Peur,
Duke of Normandy: “Je veulx estre enseveli devant l’huys de l’église,
afin d’estre conculqué de tous les entrans dans l’église.” Another
favourite place is that chosen by Agnes Spicer (1410): “My body to be
buried in the Church of St. Austin’s under the bell ropes.” So Ludovic
Stuart, Lord of Aubigny (1665), desired his “corpse to be buried and
interred without opening it in the Church of the Reverend Fathers the
Carthusians in this City of Paris just under the cord wherewith they
ring the bell for the divine service, without any pomp, ceremonies,
and hanging up of mourning tapestries in the Church; and that upon his
grave there be laid a stone of just proportion, whereon they will write
his name and quality of Great Almoner without adding anything else.”
Opinion hostile to elaborate funerals or tombs is frequently found,
in Catholic as well as in Protestant wills. John Coraunt, in 1403,
makes provision for his burial thus: “In the Name of God, Amen. In the
XIXth day in the month of April in the year of our Lord 1403, I John
Coraunt, in my good mind and whole, make my testament in this manner.
First I bequeath my soul to Almighty God, and my body to the earth to
be buried where the will is of my two sons William and John. Also my
will is to have about me at my burying no more wax than one taper at
the head and another at the feet, at the ordinance of my aforesaid
sons. Also I bequeath VI yards of black russet cloth lying on me my
burying time to be given to poor needy folk, and all other doings about
my interment and mind I will it be done at once simply and without
pride, within two days after my dying by the ordinance of my sons.”
Richard Broke, of Greenwich (1522), desired “no pomp of torches nor
great ringing of bells, but that there be bread and ale at the dirige,
to make the neighbours and poor people for to drink.”
Bartholomew Reed, Knight, alderman, citizen, and goldsmith of the
City of London, in the twenty-first year of King Henry VII., gives
directions that seem elaborate, but specially forbids excessive
commemoration of his death. He gives his body “to be buried within
the cloister of the Charterhouse of London, _i.e._ in the side of the
cloister there between two arches or moynells of stone directly against
the door leading or opening out of the choir there into the said
cloister, so as I may be the better in remembrance of the holy brethren
of the place there in their prayers.... And I will that mine executors
do make a tomb of stone of the value and cost of XX l, with the image
of the Trinity and of a dead corpse kneeling thereunto.... I will
that mine executors do ordain XX comely torches of wax to burn at the
time of mine exequies, and to be holden about my corpse by poor men.
And on that four comely tapers of wax to be holden by four poor men
in likewise ... I will that in nowise mine executors keep any solemn
month’s mind in such manner as oftentimes it is used, but that which
shall be done for me, I will it be done at my burying, and that without
any hault or sumptuous manner of charge to be done.”
Sir John Monson, Knight of the Bath and Baronet (proved January 19,
1683, S.A.), desired a “burial only not a funeral,” a desire elsewhere
echoed with much variety of phrase and vigour. He himself, in the
same spirit, gives these explicit directions: “If I shall die here
at Broxborne before I go to Burton, (which I have reason to expect,
my age and infirmities are so great,) my will is that my body be
directly carried to South Carlton there to be buried according to the
established form of our Church, with a sermon for the benefit of the
living, (if it be thought fit), and that I may avoid all ostentation
and respect decency only. My further desire is that my corpse may be
carried away from my house at Broxborne where I now am about daylight
in some morning, without troubling any friends to accompany my hearse,
and that there may be only my own coach and one more to go with it from
hence to Carlton, where I desire to be laid in peace with many of my
relations.”
Thomas Hobbes, of Gray’s Inn (dated 1631), wished “to be interred in
the parish Church of Streatham ... utterly forbidding at my funeral any
solemnities of heraldry, any feasting or banqueting, any multitude of
formal mourning, only willing donment black for my child and family, my
nephews and niece Laurence and my executors, and a servant for each of
them, and one to my cousin Thomas Brooke. And that the company present
at my funeral shall have only bread and wine for their refreshment.”
Bread and wine, or some equivalent, are commonly provided for friends
or for the poor. Thomas Lightfoot (1559) ordered every person at the
day of his burial to have one farthing loaf; John Sporett (1559),
that his neighbours should have bread and ale; John Thorpe (1571),
that “all honest folks that goes to the church with me have their
dinners.” Richard Plumpton, of York (1544), went further, giving to
William Plumpton and his children two hogs-heads of wine “to make merry
withal.” Elizabeth Stow (1568), whose last unhappy hours have been
narrated, bequeathed ten shillings “for my children and friends to
drink withal after my burial.” And a recent Vicar of St. Mary, Ilford,
directed that his executors and other mourners were to be entertained,
“complete and thorough hospitality” extended to them, and their
travelling expenses paid.
Bishop Sanderson has been quoted for a loving tribute to his wife; his
will gives as good an instance of the shrinking from pompous funerals
as could be found in the seventeenth century. “As for my corruptible
body, I bequeath it to the earth whence it was taken, to be decently
buried in the Parish Church of Buckden, towards the upper end of the
Chancel, upon the second, or at the furthest the third day after my
decease; and that with as little noise, pomp and charge as may be,
without the invitation of any person how near soever related unto me,
other than the inhabitants of Buckden; without the unnecessary expense
of escutcheon, gloves, ribbon, etc., and without any blacks to be hung
anywhere in or about the house or Church, other than a pulpit cloth, a
hearse-cloth, and a mourning gown for the preacher; whereof the former,
after my body shall be interred, to be given to the preacher of the
funeral sermon, and the latter to the Curate of the Parish for the time
being. And my will further is that the funeral sermon be preached by my
own household Chaplain, containing some wholesome discourse concerning
mortality, the resurrection of the dead, and the last judgment; and
that he shall have for his pains £5, upon condition that he speak
nothing at all concerning my person, either good or ill, other than I
myself shall direct; only signifying to the auditory that it was my
express will to have it so. And it is my will that no costly monument
be erected for my memory, but only a fair flat marble stone to be laid
over me.... This manner of burial, although I cannot but foresee it
will prove unsatisfactory to sundry my nearest friends and relations,
and be apt to be censured by others, as an evidence of my too much
parsimony and narrowness of mind, as being altogether unusual, and
not according to the mode of these times: yet it is agreeable to the
sense of my heart, and I do very much desire my Will may be carefully
observed herein, hoping it may become exemplary to some or other:
at least, however, testifying at my death—what I have so often and
earnestly professed in my lifetime—my utter dislike of the flatteries
commonly used in funeral sermons, and of the vast expenses otherwise
laid out in funeral solemnities and entertainments, with very little
benefit to any; which if bestowed in pious and charitable works, might
redound to the public or private benefit of many persons.”
Close upon a hundred years later (August 18, 1760), another Bishop, the
Right Rev. Benjamin Lord Bishop of Winchester, in English less chaste
but with remarkable similarity of thought, wrote out his desires for
his interment. “There is hardly anything more unworthy of a man, or a
Christian, than to have a great concern or deliberation about the place
and manner of his funeral. I know of but one reason that can justify
it, and that is because it may take off all dispute and difference
which may arise, and determine it so as that the executors can have
no trouble or blame. I once had a fixed design to order my burial at
Streatham Church in Surrey, where I passed many agreeable years of
my life, in a vault to be built by me which might hold all my nearest
and dearest relations. But when I had thus fully resolved, and was
going to begin the work in the plainest manner, I found myself totally
disappointed; for when I came to enquire of the proper officers of the
parish where I had lived long and where I had buried my first wife, I
found something true which I did not before think to be so; and that in
short it was in vain to enquire about any particular coffin after such
a certain number of years have passed from the time of the funeral. I
therefore now, without any further thought about what is of so little
consequence, order and appoint, solely to take off all uneasiness
from my executor, that my burial shall be in the Cathedral Church of
Winchester, in as private a manner as decency will permit, in such part
or place as the Rev. the Dean and the majority of the Chapter shall
allow of, and judge proper, for the making one grave for this purpose
only. I desire that no unnecessary trouble may be given to any persons
towards their attendance, but that only what has been usual on such
occasions may be paid. I desire and hope that neither my executor nor
any near relation will attend: nor indeed any person but the Dean and
Prebendaries if he or any of that body happen on any other account to
be at Winchester at that time, and not otherwise. These may be followed
at the funeral by those servants of mine who may attend the corpse
from Chelsea.... My will also is, that the inscription I have left,
containing only facts relating to myself, may be engraved on a piece of
marble, with very little ornament about it, and be fixed to a pillar,
the nearest to the grave, without any addition of any character or any
word or figure but to fill up the vacancies left.”
In a century of melancholy monuments, the century of “The Grave” and
“Night Thoughts,” the desire for simplicity is frequently expressed:
there seems to be a common reaction against pomposity and show. “I
desire to be decently and privately buried in the Churchyard of the
parish of Wargrave without any funeral pomp or vain idle expense,”
says Simeon Rockall (1789), and Pierce Galliard, of Edmonton and
Southampton, “I will and desire that my body may be buried decently and
privately without pomp or show and with as little expense as possible,
either in the parish Church where I shall die or at Edmonton with my
ancestors and family as shall be agreeable to my beloved wife and
executrix.” These are but random instances.
But sometimes the tones are raised by appeal to reason or to ridicule.
Thus Rev. Obadiah Hughes (1751) says: “I order that my body be conveyed
in a decent but not pompous manner, (for pomp and show abate the
solemnity of death, and often prevent those serious impressions which
a funeral might make upon the minds of attendants and spectators,)
to the parish Church of St. Martin Outwich in the City of London,
and be there deposited as near as may be to the precious remains of
my late dear wife, there to rest and sleep together until the great
resurrection day.” And Samuel Gillam, whose will was proved on August
13, 1793, thus breaks out: “Whereas I think it a very great absurdity
and the most egregious folly to make the deaths and burials of persons
to be an occasion of pomp and show, I do hereby order and desire my
funeral may be performed in such manner as may be barely decent, but
no more, and that the expense thereof do not exceed including the
parochial fees £20, and that William Brent do undertake the same. I
give unto the said William Brent as a legacy £10. I verily believe he
is an honest man.”
James Clegg (dated April 13, 1781), after giving a sum to Mrs.
Tommasa Jackson to employ it in giving a dinner to herself and his
most intimate friends, within a month of his death, “sooner or later
according as her tears may have subsided,” proceeds: “With regard to my
burial my executors shall do as they please: all I recommend is not to
be lain under ground alive, I mean that they keep me after my death for
two days in some place before burial, paying those for their trouble
who may have me in charge—will you do it? It being customary to honour
the dead with monuments and pompous tombs, here I intend to interfere,
and give orders that for me no greater expense be made than 100 dollars
and for an inscription these few words: ‘Here lies James Clegg,’ which
to me appears sufficient: every reader may say what more he thinks
fit.” But time—perhaps success—seems somewhat to have relaxed his
resolution, for by a codicil dated May 4, 1784, he says: “In case of
my decease there shall be called an honourable meeting at which all my
countrymen and all the merchants shall be invited, and to my countrymen
scarves shall be given, and that a decent tomb shall be made for me at
the expense of from two to three hundred dollars, and on the same this
inscription shall be written: ‘The monument of James Clegg anno ...’”
“And lastly, to close all,” wrote Gilbert White, of Selborne, “I do
desire that I may be buried in the Parish Church of Selborne aforesaid
in as plain and private a way as possible, without any pall bearers or
parade, and that six honest day-labouring men (respect being had to
such as have bred up large families) may bear me to my grave, to whom I
appoint the sum of ten shillings each for their trouble.”
Coming to recent days it would be easy to illustrate the desire for
simplicity in death, from highest to lowest, but instances may be seen
in the papers from day to day. Leopold, King of the Belgians, whose
will was dated November 20, 1907, said: “I wish to be buried early in
the morning, without any pomp whatsoever. Apart from my nephew Albert
and my household, I forbid anyone to follow my remains.” The late Earl
of Leicester, when he died the “Father” of the House of Lords, desired
that his body “be buried in the churchyard at Holkham, enclosed in
a single plain deal coffin only, without any brasses or ornament
whatever; and I request my executors not to provide any gloves or
hatbands, or to allow any other foolish expenditure at my funeral.”
A late Bishop Suffragan of Shrewsbury directed that he should be
buried in the simplest possible manner, in an earthen grave which was
to be covered with a low plinth bearing the words, “Not worthy of the
least of all the mercies which Thou hast shewed unto Thy servant,” and
earnestly entreated that no attempt should be made to raise any public
memorial in his honour. Father Tyrrell, in a document dated January 1,
1909, wished nothing to be written on his grave except his name and the
statement that he was a Catholic priest, with the addition only of the
emblem of the Chalice and the Host.
Less simple in the desire for simplicity were the instructions of a
solicitor, who directed that his remains should be cremated and the
ashes scattered in some plantation for restoration to the world which
he had “found so delightful”; that his funeral should be conducted in
the most unostentatious, private, and, indeed, secret manner, without
advertisement or invitations to attend, and that no gravestone should
be erected.
At the particular desire of Edward Nokes, a miser of Hornchurch,
whose niggardliness was extended to his funeral arrangements, none
who followed him to the grave was in mourning, but each follower
appeared in striking costume and the undertaker in blue coat and
scarlet waistcoat. Such is the lamentable antithesis of a desire which
is sometimes expressed, and with which it is easy to sympathise, that
no black garments shall be worn. It is a desire which is, perhaps,
increasingly common, though in the seventeenth century there are
such conspicuous passages as Jeremy Taylor’s protest against undue
lamentation and Bacon’s Essay “Of Death.” Sir John Monson (who is
referred to on p. 202) makes it his last request that his wife and
relations will not think that a loss to them which will be so great
an improvement of his joy and happiness, and not make his crown their
cross, but enjoy themselves and those earthly comforts God shall still
bless them with in an holy submission and cheerfulness. Perhaps the
ideal method in this question, difficult because of prejudice and
custom, was attained by Christina Rossetti, who, at her grandmother’s
death, was without black clothes, but wrote that she had nevertheless
“managed to put on nothing contrary to mourning.”
Recently a testatrix desired her body to be buried in quicklime in an
ordinary grave, not a walled grave or a vault, and directed especially
that no mourning should be worn and that the funeral service should
be as cheerful as possible: another that her children should wear as
little black as possible, and not shut themselves up, but go out among
friends and to places of amusement. “I am not afraid of them forgetting
me, but I want them to be happy.”
“Let me be placed in my coffin,” wrote an artist in Paris, “as quickly
as possible after my death, and let nobody outside the household be
admitted to my death chamber before I am placed in the coffin. In a
word I do not wish anybody to attend through curiosity to see how I
look. Let no portrait or photograph be made of my corpse, and let me be
buried in the shortest time possible. And do not weep for me. I have
lived a life happy enough; the aim of my life was my painting, and I
gave all of which I was capable. I might have lived another twenty
years, but should not have progressed any more, so what would have
been the good? And how content I should be if no one wears the marks
of mourning. I always had a horror of this show, so if you cannot do
otherwise, then wear the least of it possible.”
Thought and care for those who are to “have the pleasure of surviving”
add here and there pathetic touches. Mary Horne in 1784 wrote an
informal will, of which this is the dominant note. “My dear Sister,
being very desirous of giving you as little trouble at my death as
possible shall make no will, being well assured you’ll strictly observe
and comply with this my last request, which is that I may be decently
interred according to the enclosed directions.... My desire is that
I may be kept as long as possible before I am buried, and to lay as
near my dear father and mother in the parish church of Swindon as
conveniently to be done, and if not attended with much trouble. I would
have no shroud but combed wool: to be carried by six poor men of the
town, and to each half a guinea given and a strong pair of gloves: the
pall flung over me which belongs to the clerk, and no one invited to
the funeral, but a pair of the best kid gloves sent to all in the town
who I visited.... To those who have the trouble of laying me out and
being in the room with me after I am dead a guinea to each and a good
pair of gloves.”
As this was dated September 29, 1784, and proved on October 6th, the
good lady must have written it within a day or two or an hour or two
of death: it is legitimate to believe that she was as loath to give
trouble in her life as after death, and that “all in the town whom she
visited” were her mourners.
Mary Horne, it will be noticed, wished to be kept as long as possible
before her burial. She does not give a reason, but it was presumably
to lessen the risk of premature burial, the possibility of which
haunts many minds. Seven years before her death Dr. William Hawes had
published his “Address on Premature Death, and Premature Interment,”
and still to-day the subject is one of importance, as the Society for
the Prevention of Premature Burial can testify. Recently a testator
expressed a wish either to be cremated or that his heart should be
pierced, as “I feel assured that many persons are buried alive.” Now
and then sensational stories appear, as of rappings in a coffin or
of the revival of one about to be interred. “All I recommend,” said
James Clegg, “is not to be lain under ground alive,” and what he
recommends is often anxiously striven against. Such efforts were made
by Ann West (ob. 1803) who once was nearly buried alive, by directing
that she should be buried in a coffin without a lid, and that a hole
should be left in the brickwork of her vault. It was even said that she
bequeathed her fortune to a servant on condition that he should place
bread and water on her coffin for a year in case she should revive and
need them. But perhaps all was not well at last, for her ghost was said
to haunt the neighbourhood.
A similar tale is told of a Manchester lady, a Miss Bexwick or Beswick,
who died about the middle of the eighteenth century, and devised an
estate to her doctor and others, on condition that the doctor paid
her a morning visit for twelve months after her death. To fulfil the
conditions it was necessary to embalm her body, and the doctor resided
in the house to pay the mummy his daily call.
Horatio Mucklow, of Highbury (ob. July 27, 1816), bequeathed a legacy
to Powell the parish clerk, on condition that he would see his head
severed from his body previous to burial, and Thomas Trigge, of St.
George, Southwark (will dated February 24, 1755, and proved November
25, 1784), directed that before he was shut up in his coffin a surgeon
should give him such a wound as would prove immediately fatal were he
alive. Such drastic methods are not uncommon to-day. The late Lord
Burton wrote: “I desire that before my body be placed in the coffin
the spine and spinal marrow of the neck shall be completely severed
by a competent surgeon and the heart removed and placed in a separate
vessel, to be enclosed in the coffin,” and presumably the risk of
premature burial was in his mind. “I have a great horror of being
buried alive,” wrote a lady in her will, “therefore I wish my finger to
be cut,” and she bequeathed £10 to the doctor performing such service.
Another ordered a doctor to “thrust a dagger through my heart three
times to make sure I am dead.” Better thus than to be buried alive:
such a stuffy death, as Yum-Yum says in “The Mikado.”
Dorcas Hutchinson, of St. Anne, Soho (will proved June 3, 1761), was
content with a less drastic method. “I mean by my desire above written
not to be enclosed in any coffin whatever within seven days after my
decease; that my corpse be laid upon a bed during that time, and may
not be put into any covered coffin until the eighth day. My will is
that Edward Havel my present servant may take care that the above
request is literally complied with, and for that purpose may stay in
the house till I am buried, and upon his so doing I do bequeath him the
sum of £50.”
For such a method there is much to be said, if after apparent death a
prolongation of life be desired, but the method is unfortunately not
conclusive. “Everybody has heard,” writes John Timbs, “of the lady
who was buried, being supposed dead, and who bearing with her to the
tomb, on her finger, a ring of rare price, this was the means of her
being rescued from her charnel prison-house. A butler in the family of
the lady, having his cupidity excited, entered the vault at midnight
in order to possess himself of the ring, and in removing it from the
finger the body was restored to consciousness and made her way in her
grave-clothes to her mansion. She lived many years afterwards before
she was finally consigned to the vault.”
On Saturday, October 29, 1808, Elizabeth Emma Thomas was buried at
Islington, and on Monday this inscription was raised:—
“In Memory Of
Mrs. Elizabeth Emma Thomas
Who died the 28th October, 1808,
Aged 27 years.
She had no fault save what travellers give the moon:
Her light was lovely, but she died too soon.”
Suspicion was aroused from the rapidity of her burial, the grave
opened, and the body removed into the church for inspection. Suspicion
seemed justified when a large wire pin was found thrust through her
left side and fixed in her heart. But it appeared from the evidence
that this was done at her own desire, to prevent the possibility of
being buried alive, and the jury returned a verdict accordingly: “Died
by the visitation of God.”
But the preceding is a digression on the way to simplicity. With such
an expression as “I commit ... my body to the deep or any convenient
place, it’s immaterial where,” we reach down to the minimum, and must
ascend again. “To them,” says Jeremy Taylor, “it is all one, whether
they be carried forth upon a chariot or a wooden bier; whether they
rot in the air or on the earth; whether they be devoured by fishes or
by worms, by birds or by sepulchral dogs, by water or by fire, or by
delay”; but man is often in nothing so eccentric as in his desires for
the disposal of his remains, or in the accompaniments and accoutrements
he asks for his obsequies.
The meanings of these desires are not seldom hid, and each may
conjecture for himself the motive of the deceased. Thus Thomas Fuller
says of Catharine of Aragon: “She was buried in the abbey-church
of Peterborough, under a hearse of black say; probably by her own
appointment, that she might be plain when dead, who neglected bravery
of clothes when living.” A vain woman, on the other hand, desired
according to an old Welsh tale to be buried in her ball-dress, and her
request was not denied; but her soul was hunted by the spirit-hounds,
who pursue the objects of their malice. It is difficult to believe that
anything but eccentricity lay behind the wishes of one who was recently
buried at Barton-on-Humber, “in his best suit of clothes and brown
boots, cane in hand and cap on head, watch in fob with chain attached,
and with a few coins in his pockets.”
Again, a woman wishes to be buried in the clothes she shall be wearing
at the time of her death, and what might lie behind this desire is
suggested by the romance of Mrs. Fitzherbert and George IV. It was in
a will that he acknowledged her as his true wife, and the romance was
recalled when he commanded the Duke of Wellington to see that he was
buried in the clothes which he wore at death, and that nothing should
be taken from him. The King, it was discovered, had piously worn a
miniature of the woman he had loved, and by his command he secured that
the portrait should be buried with him.
John Hyacinth de Magelhaens, buried February 13, 1790, desired that
“where the tree fell it might lie.” No doubt some sentiment or
tradition would explain many quaint requests. A recent writer spins a
little tale to explain a certain sentimental dying injunction “that
there should be placed in his hands and buried with him a rosebud
which will be found with him whenever or wherever he dies.” The reader
of Jules Sandeau’s tale “Un Héritage,” soon discovers the reason for
the last injunction in the will of Count Sigismond St. Hildesheim.
“Je joins au présent testament un air tyrolien; je désire que cet air
soit gravé sur ma tombe et me serve d’épitaphe.” On many such desires,
however, it is curious to speculate.
Alice Suckling in 1632 bequeathed her body to the earth, dust to dust,
therein to be buried in the night. Susan Hornesby, of Horton, in
Kent, desired “to be buried in linen, in one of them sheets that was
my mother’s ... and my three maiden sisters to bury me, and I desire
a small funeral.” (Proved January 16, 1694.) Mary Jacob, spinster, in
1783 desired “a black coffin with white nails and white plate, my body
to be wrapped in a piece of flannel, and a crape cap, and what hat
bands and gloves be given I desire it should be black.” Sarah Jennings,
widow, in the same year makes more elaborate arrangements. “My body
I recommend to the earth to be buried in decent Christian burial in
manner and form following by my executor, nothing doubting but at the
general resurrection I shall receive the same again by the mighty power
of God. First I order my coffin to be lined with the lining of my silk
petticoat, the coffin to be covered with black cloth with three rows
of nails. When the bell tolls the second time two porters to be set
at the door with hat bands and gloves, and I further order to be laid
by my brother Richard Sutton with a grave stone to cover us both. The
under-bearers and pall-bearers to have hat bands and gloves, twenty
widows to have one shilling apiece to be paid the day after the burial,
and half a guinea for ringing a mourning peal. No bread nor biscuits to
be given, but only wine.... And I do further order that I be took down
to William Pywell’s house as soon as put in my coffin, from thence to
proceed to Church, and I do further order that neither Benjamin Sutton
nor William Oldershaw and his wife shall attend my funeral.”
It is strange how minutely these women contemplate their dissolution.
Jane Carpenter, spinster, by her will dated April 17, 1789, gave the
following directions. “First, I will to be kept a week after my decease
before my burial, which I will to be at Oxford in the churchyard next
to All Souls College in the parish of St. Mary’s, as near as may be
to the chancel window; also I desire that my funeral be in the manner
following: a strong coffin covered with black and everything good that
is wanting or necessary, a hearse and four horses and a coach and
four horses; the minister of the parish and the clerk I give a black
silk hatband and gloves each; it is my desire to have nothing white,
but everything black.... I will and bequeath to Mr. Richard Brook of
Tidington ... smith and farmer £15 15s., and it is my desire that he
shall attend my funeral; a letter directed to him at the sign of the
Three Pigeons near Thame ... will come safe to hand.”
In the obituary of the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for 1788 is this notice:
“At his apartments at Chelsea College, in his 95th year, Messenger
Mounsey, M.D. For a considerable time he was family physician to the
late Earl of Godolphin, and physician to Chelsea College. His character
and humour bore a striking resemblance to that of the celebrated Dean
Swift. By his will he has directed that his body shall not suffer any
funeral ceremony, but undergo dissection; after which the ‘remainder
of his carcase’ (to use his own expression) ‘may be put into a hole,
or crammed into a box with holes, and thrown into the Thames,’ at the
pleasure of the surgeon. The surgeon to whom he has assigned this
charge is Mr. Forster, of Union-Court, Broad Street. In pursuance of
the Doctor’s singular will, Mr. Forster has since given a discourse
in the theatre of Guy’s Hospital to the medical students and a
considerable number of intelligent visitors, on the dissection of the
body.... Mr. Forster ... vindicated the Doctor from all affectation,
vanity, or whim, in having ordered his body for dissection and
prohibited all funeral ceremony, stating that whatever of singularity
might appear in his will was resolvable merely into a zeal for
knowledge, and a desire of benefiting mankind, as he conceived that a
dissection of his body would lead to the illustration of much useful
truth. He mentioned also the philosophic contempt in which the Doctor
held all funeral pomp, and every species of unnecessary form.”
Messenger Monsey’s will has been quoted in these pages more than once,
and is of interest in many ways; but, as proved, it does not contain
this strange provision for the disposal of his body after dissection.
As to post-mortem examination, Monsey is not unique. Jean de Labadie,
that strange and spiritual figure, stated in his last testament that if
such an examination of his body should be thought useful to others he
willingly allowed it (1674). “Lastly, I testify that I, as I belong to
God and owe myself entirely to Him, give myself without reserve into
His keeping, and to my brethren and sisters who are together with me
members of this Community I give my body, that they may do with it as
they think fit, even if they but attend to its simple burial according
to our custom. It may be that my body, in which I have suffered
great physical pain (which is not uncommon in those who have devoted
themselves to the work of the soul and spirit), may be usefully opened
and examined, and that some lessons may be drawn from it advantageous
to the prolongation of other lives. But as it signifies very little
about the body, which returns to dust when the spirit returns to God,
I surrender my soul heartily to my God, giving it back like a drop of
water to its source, and rest confident in Him, praying God my origin
and ocean, that He will take me into Himself and engulf me eternally
in the divine abyss of His Being. I would say more of this if I had
strength to go on writing, but this word will suffice. I am united to
God and one with the Saints in God; this unison is all, and it is all
to me.” And the same Bishop of Winchester who is quoted above said
in a codicil: “It is my express desire that my body may be opened so
far as to see whether any appearance in it may be of use to my fellow
creatures: which I hope Mr. Hawkins will perform and judge of. December
1st, 1759.”
In the will of Florence Nightingale is a clause peculiarly apt for this
chapter. “I give my body for dissection or post-mortem examination for
the purposes of medical science, and I request that the directions
about my funeral given by me to my uncle, the late Samuel Smith, be
observed. My original request was that no memorial whatever should mark
the place where lies my ‘mortal coil.’ I much desire this, but, should
the expression of such wish render invalid my other wishes, I limit
myself to the above mentioned directions, praying that my body may be
carried to the nearest convenient burial ground, accompanied by not
more than two persons, without trappings, and that a simple cross with
only my initials, date of birth and of death, mark the spot.”
It is said that in early life Jeremy Bentham determined to leave his
body for dissection, and in 1769, at the age of twenty-two, bequeathed
it for that purpose: “This my will and general request I make, not out
of affectation of singularity, but to the intent and with the desire
that mankind may reap some small benefit in and by my decease, having
hitherto had small opportunities to contribute thereto while living.”
As a matter of fact, directions given by will as to the disposition of
the body are invalid, but by the Anatomy Act, 1832, certain interesting
provisions are laid down. The executor may permit the body of the
deceased to undergo anatomical examination, unless he has expressed his
desire in writing, or verbally in the presence of two or more witnesses
during the illness whereof he died, that such examination might not be
held, or unless the surviving spouse or any relative shall require the
body to be interred without examination.
On the other hand, if any person has directed in writing, or verbally
as above, that an anatomical examination shall be held, his direction
is to be carried out, unless the surviving spouse or a relative require
the body to be interred without such examination.
The desire that there should be placed in the coffin letters written
to the testator by his wife before their marriage is intelligible, and
the request was made recently in a minister’s will. A contemporary
record of the death in 1788 of Frances Marchioness Dowager of Tweeddale
makes much of such tender provisions. “She lived a great example of
prudence and penurious economy, and in her death gave testimony of the
goodness of her heart, united with wisdom, in the legacies and orders
respecting her own funeral, and her surviving relatives and friends.
An instance of conjugal affection, rarely to be found in the life and
death of great personages, is more fully evinced by her living 26 years
a dowager, ordering her burial with her wedding-ring on her finger, and
the letters of her dear Lord to be put into the coffin with her, and to
be laid as near as possible to her deceased husband.”
Unintelligible, however, to any not initiated into the mysteries of
testators’ minds are some of these directions or desires:—
“After my decease, I desire that a competent and
trustworthy doctor of medicine shall thoroughly satisfy
himself that life is absolutely extinct. My carcase is to
be cremated, and the residuum thereof deposited in two
metal urns, numbered respectively 1 and 2. On the ashes in
No. 1 are to be placed a packet, which will be found on
my desk, and my miniature portrait scarf-pin, and on the
ashes in urn No. 2 a similar packet, which will also be
found on my desk, and my miniature portrait finger-ring.”
“I direct that I shall be buried in the clothes in which
I shall die, whether they be day clothes or night clothes,
and after my death my body is not to be washed or in any
way whatsoever meddled with, and no funeral service shall
be held over my remains anywhere.”
Another testator directed that his body should be burnt or cremated,
and the ashes placed in a glass or earthenware jar. A porcelain vase
was then to be made large enough to contain this jar, and to bear
his name and the date of his death. A vault was to be built of great
strength and solidity, to contain at least six vases, a suitable
inscription on the exterior. When these operations should be complete,
the glass jar was to be placed within the vase, and the lid of the vase
put on with a strong cement to exclude the air, the vase then to be
deposited in the vault and to remain there for ever.
John Baskerville, who died at Birmingham, 1775, directed that his
body should be buried in a conical building, in his own premises,
“heretofore used as a mill, which I have lately raised higher and
painted, and in a vault which I have prepared for it. This doubtless to
many will appear a whim; perhaps it is so, but it is a whim for many
years resolved upon, as I have a hearty contempt of all superstition,
the farce of a consecrated ground ...” and other ideas, pleasanter to
omit and illustrative of the unreasonableness of eighteenth-century
reason. His epitaph was to run as follows:—
“Stranger,
Beneath this cone, in unconsecrated ground,
A friend to the liberties of mankind directed
His body to be inurned.
May the example contribute to emancipate
Thy mind
From the idle fears of Superstition
And the wicked Arts of Priesthood.”
John Baskerville endeavours to give at least some idea of the motives
underlying his behests. So Major Peter Labelliere, whose mind was said
to have been unhinged by hopeless love, by politics and religion, chose
for his burial a spot on Box Hill, where about the beginning of the
nineteenth century he was interred with his head downwards, in order
that as “the world was turned topsy-turvy, he might be right at last.”
In the register of Lymington Church under the year 1736 is the entry:
“Samuel Baldwin, Esq. sojourner in this parish, was immersed, without
the Needles, _sans cérémonie_, May 20.” The explanation, according to
Wm. Hone in his “Table Book,” is that this was done in consequence of
the deceased’s earnest wish, to disappoint the intention of his wife,
who had repeatedly assured him that, if she survived, she would wreak
her revenge by dancing on his grave.
The artist W. P. Firth, like many others in recent times, requested
that his body should be cremated, saying that “the duty of the
individual to his kind includes providing for such final disposal of
his body as shall be least detrimental to those who survive him, and
that the modern process of incineration provides the quickest and
safest mode of such disposal.”
As unsentimental was the mind of the New York citizen who instructed
his executors to have made out of his bones circular buttons of
dimensions from one half an inch to one inch in diameter, to have the
skin of his body tanned and made into pouches; and to have violin
strings made out of such parts as might be suitable, adding: “I hereby
give unto my beloved friend James Hayes the buttons, violin-strings and
tanned skin made out of my body as aforesaid, the same to be by him
distributed according to his discretion to my intimate friends.” The
belief, it is said, that in the human body exists useful material which
should not be wasted led this testator to give such strange directions:
he did not believe in ordinary unhygienic and wasteful modes of burial,
and hoped that his example might be followed.
With the will of John Angell, of Stockwell, dated September 21, 1774,
we may make an end. He seems to have been a man of ambitious ideas.
He made provision for a “College or Society of seven decayed or
unprovided for gentlemen,” and had the temerity to name as trustees the
Archbishops of Canterbury and of York and the Lord Chancellor, “the
great personages whom I have presumed to appoint to this trust,” as he
himself says.
The same elaboration marks his funeral arrangements. “I would be
interred in the manner following. I would be wrapped in a woollen sheet
only. Then without a shroud be put into a leaden coffin, which shall
not be soldered down but only screwed. On this coffin shall be a large
plain inscription on lead expressing who I am. Then to be put into a
black cloth coffin with usual ornaments. Only I would have a plate of
copper or brass instead of such as is usually put. Thereon shall be
well engraved the family coat of arms properly blazoned and as I now
bear, with a full inscription as on the lead in Latin as thus: John the
son of John and Caroline _qui consortem habuit carissimam_. I desire to
lie open in my chamber so long as I decently may. Afterwards in about a
fortnight, or rather above, would be carried to Crowhurst in a hearse
with six horses dressed properly with shields and escutcheons, but no
other trifling ornaments. My own coach shall follow with one footman
behind it and I riding before; and besides two mourning coaches only
with six horses, in one of which I would have go my executors or near
friends, in the other my maid servants. I would desire the tenants and
neighbours at Crowhurst and in that neighbourhood would meet me at the
bottom of Riddlesdown as usual heretofore, and they are to have there
gloves and hatbands. And I would desire such of my neighbours in about
Stockwell as would show me that regard to ride two by two before me as
far as the further end of Croydon, accordingly to have hatbands and
gloves. And it is my will and desire that if the College and Chapel
which I intend to erect be finished and settled, the gentlemen and
the chaplain and minister and the whole choir and the servants of the
College attend on foot to the top of Brixton Causeway, singing as
they proceed some proper hymn or anthem as shall be appointed on the
occasion.”