_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._
Sir,
The variety of funeral-rites and ceremonies, prevalent in different ages
and countries, has been so great as to forbid any attempt to enumerate
them; but it is consistent with the character and design of the
_Every-Day Book_, to record the peculiar customs which have existed in
different districts of our native land: for although your motto from old
Herrick, does not refer to any thing of a serious kind, yet, in the
number of those which you promise the world to “tell of” I perceive that
such matters are sometimes related. I proceed, therefore, to detail the
circumstances which preceded and attended the interment of the dead in
the county of Cumberland, within the last twenty years: they are now
discontinued, except, perhaps, in some of the smaller villages, or
amongst the humblest class in society. Whether the customs I am about to
describe, have been observed in the southern parts of England, I know
not; I shall, therefore, confine myself to what has frequently passed
under my own observation in my native town.
No sooner had the passing-bell intimated to the inhabitants that an
acquaintance or neighbour had departed for that “bourne whence no
traveller returns,” than they began to contemplate a call at the
“Corse-house,” (for such was the denomination of the house of mourning,)
within which preparations were made by the domestics to receive all who
might come. To this end all the apartments were prepared for the
reception of visitors with the exception of the chamber of death: one
for the seclusion of the survivors of the family, and the domestic
offices.
The interval between the death and the interment is at present, I
believe, extended beyond what was usual at the time I refer to: it was
then two days and two nights, varying accordingly as the demise took
place in the early or latter part of the day.
The assemblage at the Corse-house, was most numerous during the evening;
at which time many persons, who were engaged during the day in their
several avocations, found leisure to be present: many of the females
made their call, however, during the afternoon. The concourse of
visitors rendered the house like a tavern; their noise and tumult being
little restrained, and their employment being the drinking of wine or
spirits with the smoking of tobacco; and if only some made use of the
“stinking herb,” all partook of the juice of the grape. Instances could
be adduced in which moderation gave way to excess.
The conversation turned, often upon the character of the deceased, at
least when generally respected; “de mortuis nil nisi bonum;” the
ordinary topics of the day were discussed: perhaps the Irish people were
ridiculed for their barbarism in _waking their dead_: and each
individual as inclination prompted him, retired to make room for
another, thus maintaining a pretty rapid succession of arrivals and
departures, with the exception of, perhaps, one or two who embraced so
favourable an opportunity for economical indulgence. “Where the carcase
is there will the eagles be gathered together.”
I must, however, observe in justice to the good taste of my townsmen,
that many of them rather assented to the custom than approved it; but an
omission to attend a Corse-house, with the occupants of which you were
even slightly acquainted, was considered a mark of disrespect to the
memory of the dead, and the feelings of the survivors.
It happened, however, that a gentleman (a stranger to this custom,)
settled in the town I refer to, and, after a short residence, a death
occurred in his family: he at once resolved to deviate from a practice
which he did not approve. The first visitors to his house observed that
no preparations were made for their reception, and were respectfully
told by a servant, that open house would not be kept on the occasion:
the news soon spread, and so did the example; a native of the town soon
followed it, and a custom fell into desuetude, which the warmest
admirers of ancient practices could scarcely desire to perpetuate.
Originating probably in the exercise of the social affections, and of
that hospitality which was convenient enough in periods when population
was thin and widely scattered, they degenerated from their original use,
and were “more honoured in the breach than the observance.” Antiquity
might, perhaps, plead in their defence. The ancient Jews made great use
of music in their funeral rites; before Christ exerted his power in the
restoration of the ruler’s daughter, who was supposed to be dead, he
caused to be put forth “the minstrels and the people making a noise.”
Matt. c. 9, v. 23, _et seq._
The ceremonies, which I am now going to describe, are still in
existence; and evince no symptoms of decay. On the evening preceding the
day appointed for the interment, the parish-clerk perambulates the town,
carrying a deep and solemn-toned bell, by means of which he announces
his approach to various places at which he is accustomed to stop, and
give utterance to his mournful message. Well do I remember the deep
interest with which I and my youthful associates listened to the
melancholy tones of his sepulchral voice, whilst toys were disregarded,
and trifling for a moment suspended! As the sounds of the “Death-bell”
died away, it was proclaimed thus: “All friends and neighbours are
desired to attend the funeral of ---- from -----street, to Mary’s
Chapel: the corpse to be taken up at ---- o’clock.” What crowds of
little urchins feeling a mixed sensation of fear and curiosity were
congregated! What casements were half-opened whilst mute attention lent
her willing ear to seize upon the name of the departed, and the hour of
burial!
I have known a party at “a round game” hushed into silence: and a whist
party thrown into a sort of reverie, and there remain till Mrs.
What-d’ye-call-’em asked Mrs. What’s-her-name, if clubs were trumps? or
chid her partner for being guilty of a revoke on account of so common a
thing as the “Death-bell.”
On the following day the clerk proceeds to the Corse-house, about an
hour before the procession is formed. A small table covered with a white
napkin, on which are placed wines and spirits, is put at the door of the
house within and around which the people assemble: the clerk takes his
place by the table, to assist to a glass of liquor, any person who may
approach it. The coffin being brought forth, the clerk takes his place
in front of the procession, and is usually attended by a number of those
who form the choir on Sunday, all being uncovered. A psalm is sung as
the cavalcade moves slowly through the streets. The rest of the “friends
and neighbours” follow the corpse to the church, where the ordinary
services conclude; and thus concludes the “strange eventful history,”
related by, sir,
Yours faithfully,