were carried two white branches, ten staff torches, and four great tapers.” “July 10th the Lady Tresham was buried at Peterborough, with four banners, and an herse of wax, and torches.” “1558, September 14th, was buried Sir Andrew Judd, skinner, merchant of Muscovy, and late Mayor of London, with ten dozen of escutcheons, garnished with angels, and an herse of wax.” What is an herse of wax? This will be quite unintelligible to those, who have supposed that word to import nothing else than the vehicle, in which the dead are carried to the grave. Herse also signifies a temporary monument, erected upon, or near, the place of sepulture, and on which the corpse was laid, for a time, in state; and a herse of wax was a structure of this kind, surrounded with wax tapers. This will be made manifest, by some additional extracts from the same author: “1557. The 16th day of July, died the lady Anne, of Cleves, at Chelsey, sometime wife and queen unto King Henry VIII., but never crowned. Her corpse was cered the night following.” “On the 29th began the herse at Westminster, for the Lady Anne of Cleves, consisting of carpenters’ work of seven principals, being as goodly an herse as had been seen.” “On the 3d of August the body of the Lady Anne of Cleves was brought from Chelsey, where her house was, unto Westminster, to be buried—men bore her, under a canopy of black velvet, with four black staves, and so brought her into the herse, and there tarried Dirge, remaining there all night, with lights burning.” “On the 16th day of August the herse of the King of Denmark was begun to be set up, in a four-square house. August 18, was the King of Denmark’s herse in St. Paul’s finished with wax, the like to which was never seen in England, in regard to the fashion of square tapers.” And on the 23d, also was the King of Denmark’s herse, at St. Paul’s, “taken down by the wax chandlers and carpenters, to whom this work pertained, by order of Mr. Garter, and certain of the Lord Treasurer’s servants.” These herses were, doubtless, very attractive in their way. “Aug. 31, 1557. The young Dutchess of Norfolk being lately deceased, her herse began to be set up on the 28th, in St. Clements, without Temple bar, and was this day finished with banners, pensils, wax, and escutcheons.”
The office of an undertaker, in those days, was no sinecure. He was an arbiter elegantiarum. A funeral was a festival then. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you die, was the common phylactery.
“The funeral baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.”
Baked meats shall be the subject of my next.
No. XXV.
Pliny, xviii. 30, refers to a practice among the Romans, very similar to that, in use among certain unenlightened nations, of depositing articles of diet upon tombs and graves, such as beans, lettuces, eggs, bread, and the like, for the use of ghosts. The stomachs of Roman ghosts were not supposed to be strong enough for flesh meat. Hence the lines of Juvenal, v. 85:
Sed tibi dimidio constrictus cammarus ovo
Ponitur, exigua feralis cæna patella.
The silicernium or cæna funebris was a very different, and more solid affair. At first blush—to use a common and sensible expression—there seems no respectable keeping, between the art of burying the dead, and that of feasting the living. Depositing those, whom we love, in their graves, is certainly the very last relish for an appetite. Something of this was undoubtedly done, of old, under the promptings of Epicurean philosophy—upon the dum vivimus vivamus principle—and, in that spirit which teaches the soldier, when he turns from the grave, to change the mournful, for the merry strain. The desire of equalling or excelling others, in the magnificence of funereal parade, has ever been a powerful motive. The eyes of others destroy us, said Franklin, and not our own. Grief for the departed, and sympathy with the bereaved, were not deemed sufficient, to insure an imposing parade. Games and festivals were therefore provided, for the people. Among other attractions, masses of uncooked meat were bestowed upon all comers. This was the visceratio of the Romans. This word seems to have a different import; viscera, however, signifies all beneath the skin, as may be seen by consulting Serv. in Virg., Æn. i., 211. Suetonius Cæs. 39, and Cicero de Officiis ii. 16, refer to this practice. It was by no means very common, but frequently adopted by those, who could afford the expense, and were desirous of the display.
Marcus Flavius had committed an infamous crime. He was popular, and the ædiles of the people had fixed a day for his absolution. Under pretence of celebrating his mother’s funeral, he gave a visceratio to the people: Populo visceratio data, a M. Flavio, in funere matris. Erant, qui, per speciem honorandæ parentis, meritam mercedem populo solutam interpretarentur; quod eum, die dicta ab ædilibus, crimine stupratæ matris familæ absolvisset. Liv. viii. 22. A note upon this passage, in Lemaire’s edition, fully explains the nature of this practice.
This was a very different affair from the silicernium, or feast for the friends, after the funeral. Upon such occasions, the Falernian flowed, and boars were roasted whole. The reader, by opening his Livy, xxxix. 46, will find an account of the funeral of P. Licinius: a visceratio was given to the people; one hundred and twenty gladiators fought in the arena; the funeral games lasted three days; and then followed a splendid entertainment. On that occasion, a tempest drove the company into the forum; this occurred, in the year U. C. 569. Through all time, the practice has prevailed, more or less, of providing entertainments, for those, who gather on such occasions. In villages, especially, and within my own recollection, the funeral has been delayed, to enable distant friends to arrive in season; and the interval has been employed, in the preparation of creature comforts, not only for such as attended, and observed the ceremonial of an hour, but for such, as came to the bereaved, like the comforters of the man of Uz, “every one from his place, and sat down with him, seven days and seven nights.” Animal provision must surely be required, to sustain such protracted lamentation.
In the age, when Shakspeare wrote, and for several ages before and after, “baked meats,” at funerals, were very common. So far, from contenting themselves with the preparation of some simple aliment, for such as were an hungered, the appetites of all were solicited, by a parade of the rarest liquors and the choicest viands. Tables were spread, in the most ample manner, and the transition was immediate from the tomb to the festal board. The requiescat in pace was scarcely uttered, before the blessing was craved, on the baked meats. It matters little, from what period of history we select our illustrations of this truth. Suppose we take our examples from the reign, preceding that, in which Shakspeare was born; comprehend some other incidents in our collection; and rely, for our authority, on good old John Strype, who was himself born in 1643. There is no higher authority. I will present a few specimens from his Ecclesiastical Memorials: “1557, May 5. Was the Lady Chamberlain buried. At the mass preached Dr. Chadsey. A great dole of money given at the church, and after, a great dinner. May 29, was buried Mrs. Gates; after mass a great dinner. June 7, began a stage play at the Grey Friars of the passion of Christ. June 10.—This day Sir John, a chantry priest, hung himself with his own girdle. The same day was the storehouse in Portsmouth burnt, much beer and victual destroyed. A judgment, perhaps, for burning so many innocent persons. June 29.—This same day was the second year’s mind (i.e. yearly obit) of good master Lewyn, ironmonger; at his dirge were all the livery. After, they retired to the widow’s place, where they had a cake and wine; and besides the parish, all comers treated.” Aug. 3.—After giving a long account of the funeral of Ann of Cleves, Strype adds, “and so they went in order to dinner.” After reciting the particulars of the King of Denmark’s funeral, in London, Aug. 18, 1557, he adds: “After the dirge, all the heralds and all the Lords went into the Bishop of London’s place, and drank. The next day was the morrow-mass, and a goodly sermon preached, and after, to my Lord of London’s to dinner.”
The account of the funeral of Thomas Halley is entitled to be presented entire: “On the 24th of this month,
