Chapter II: Part 2

We still possess some curious details concerning the funeral of Henry V., who died at Vincennes in 1422. Juvenal des Usines tells us that the body was boiled, so as to be converted into a perfect skeleton, for better transportation into England. The bones were first taken to Notre Dame, where a superb funeral service was said over them. Just above the body they placed a figure made of boiled leather, representing the king's person "as well as might be desired," clad in purple, with the imperial diadem on its brow and the sceptre in its hand. Thus adorned, the coffin and the effigy were placed on a gorgeous chariot, covered with a "coverture" of red velvet beaten with gold. In this manner, followed by the King of Scots, as chief mourner, and by all the princes, lords, and knights of his house, was the body of the illustrious hero of Agincourt conveyed from town to town, until it reached Calais and was embarked for England, where it was finally laid at rest in Westminster Abbey, under a new monument erected by Queen Katherine de Valois, who eventually caused a silver-plated effigy of her husband, with a solid silver gilt head, to be placed on the tomb, which was unfortunately destroyed at the time of the Reformation.

The funeral of Eleanor of Castile, the adored consort of Edward I., was exceptionally sumptuous. This amiable Queen died at Hardbey, near Grantham, of "autumnal" fever, on November 29, 1290. The pressing affairs of Scotland were obliterated for the time from the mind of the great Edward, and he refused to attend to any state duty until his "loved ladye" was laid at rest at Westminster. The procession, followed by the King in the bitterest woe, took thirteen days to reach London from Grantham. At the end of every stage the royal bier surrounded by its attendants, rested in some central place of a great town, till the neighbouring ecclesiastics came to meet it in solemn procession, and to place it upon the high altar of the principal church. A cross was erected in memory of King Edward's _chère reine_ at every one of these resting-places. Thirteen of these monuments once existed; now only two of the originals remain, the crosses of Northampton and Waltham. The fac-simile at Charing Cross, opposite the Railway Station, though excellent, is of course modern, and does not occupy the right spot, which was, it is said on good authority, exactly where now stands the statue of Charles II. The Chronicler of Dunstable thus describes the ceremony of marking the sites for these crosses: "Her body passed through Dunstable and rested one night, and two precious cloths were given us, and eighty pounds of wax. And when the body of Queen Eleanor was departing from Dunstable, her bier rested in the centre of the market-place till the King's Chancellor and the great men there present had marked a fitting place where they might afterwards erect, at the royal expense, a cross of wonderful size,--our prior being present, who sprinkled the spot with holy water."

Perhaps the most magnificent funeral which took place before the Reformation was that of Elizabeth of York, consort of Henry VII. It was one of the last great Roman Catholic state funerals in England, for the obsequies of Henry VII. himself were conducted on a much diminished scale; and those of the wives of Henry VIII., and of that monster himself, were not accompanied by so much pomp, owing to the religious troubles of the time. Queen Elizabeth of York was the last English Queen who died at the Tower. Her obsequies took place in the chapel of St. Mary, which was, until quite lately, the Rolls Office, and which was magnificently hung on this occasion with black brocade. The windows were veiled with crape. The Queen's body rested on a bed of state, in a _chapelle ardente_, surrounded by over 5,000 wax candles. High Mass was said during the earlier hours of the morning, and in the afternoon solemn Vespers were sung. When the Queen's body was nailed up in its coffin, the usual waxen effigy took its place. The procession left St. Mary's, in the Tower, at noon, for Westminster Abbey, and was of exceeding length. At every hundred yards it was met by the religious corporations, fraternities, and guilds, and by the children attached to sundry monastic and charitable foundations, some of them dressed as angels, with golden wings, and all of them singing psalms. There were over 8,000 wax tapers burning between Mark Lane and the Temple; and the fronts of all the churches were hung with black, and brilliantly illuminated. The people in the streets held candles, and repeated prayers. At Temple Bar the body was received by the municipal officers of the City of Westminster, who accompanied it to the Abbey, where the Queen's effigy was exhibited with great state for two days, and on the morning of the third she was buried in what is since known as "Henry VII.'s Chapel."

The funeral of the unfortunate Katherine of Arragon took place, as all the world knows, in Peterborough Cathedral.

In a recently discovered contemporary Spanish chronicle, translated by Mr. Martin Sharpe Hume, it seems that the servants of the "Blessed lady" (Queen Katherine) were all dressed in mourning, and the funeral was a fairly handsome one. More than three hundred masses were said during the day at Peterborough, for all the clergy for fifteen miles round came to the various services. Chapuy, the Spanish Ambassador to the Court of King Henry, in a letter to his master Charles V., however, informs him that the funeral of Queen Katherine was mean and shabby in the extreme, quite unworthy even of an ordinary baroness. Jane Seymour fared better after death than any other of the wives of Henry VIII., and was buried with considerable solemnity at Windsor. The first royal Protestant state funeral mentioned as taking place in this country was that of Queen Catherine Parr, at Sudeley Castle. The ceremony was of the simplest description: psalms were sung over the remains, and a brief discourse pronounced. The Lady Jane Grey was chief mourner.

The author of the Spanish chronicle just mentioned, who evidently witnessed the interment of Henry VIII., assures us that the waxen effigy of the King was carried in a chair to Windsor, and was an astonishing likeness. It was followed by 1,000 gentlemen on horseback, the horses all being draped with black velvet. Many masses were said in St. George's Chapel for the rest of the King's soul, but the obsequies do not appear to have been exceptionally splendid.

The funeral of Anne of Cleves, who had become a Catholic, took place at Westminster, under the special supervision of Queen Mary. It was a plain but handsome function, conducted with good taste, but without ostentation. The unpopular Mary Tudor's funeral was the last Catholic state ceremony of the kind which ever took place in Westminster Abbey. Queen Elizabeth attended her sister's funeral, which was a simple one, and listened attentively to the funeral oration preached by Dr. White Bailey, of Winchester, who, when he spoke of poor Mary's sufferings, wept bitterly, and exclaimed, looking significantly at her successor, _Melior est canis vivis leone mortuo_. Elizabeth understood her Latin too well not to be fired with indignation at this elegant simile, which declared a "living dog better than a dead lion," and ordered the bishop to be arrested as he descended from the pulpit, and a violent scene occurred between him and the Queen, which, Her Majesty prudently permitted him to have the best of, by withdrawing with her train from the Abbey.

QUEEN ELIZABETH died in the seventieth year of her age and the forty-fourth of her reign, March 24, on the eve of the festival of the Annunciation, called Lady Day. Among the complimentary epitaphs which were composed for her, and hung up in many churches, was one ending with the following couplet:--

"She is, she was--what can there be more said?
On earth the first, in heaven the second maid."

It is stated by Lady Southwell that directions were left by Elizabeth that she should not be embalmed; but Cecil gave orders to her surgeon to open her. "Now, the Queen's body being cered up," continues Lady Southwell, "was brought by water to Whitehall, where, being watched every night by six several ladies, myself that night watching as one of them, and being all in our places about the corpse, which was fast nailed up in a board coffin, with leaves of lead covered with velvet, her body burst with such a crack that it splitted the wood, lead, and cere-cloth; whereupon, the next day she was fain to be new trimmed up."

Elizabeth was most royally interred in Westminster Abbey on the 28th of April, 1603. We subjoin a rare contemporary engraving of the funeral procession, by which it will be seen with what pomp and ceremony the remains of the great Queen were escorted to their last resting-place. "The city of Westminster," says Stow, "was surcharged with multitudes of all sorts of people, in the streets, houses, windows, leads, and gutters, who came to see the obsequy. And when they beheld her statue, or effigy, lying on the coffin, set forth in royal robes, having a crown upon the head thereof, and a ball and a sceptre in either hand, there was such a general sighing, groaning, and weeping as the like hath not been seen or known in the memory of man; neither doth any history mention any people, time, or state to make such lamentation for the death of a sovereign." The funereal effigy which, by its close resemblance to their deceased sovereign, moved the sensibility of the loyal and excitable portion of the spectators at her obsequies in this powerful manner, was no other than the faded waxwork effigy of Queen Elizabeth preserved in Westminster Abbey.

Elizabeth was interred in the same grave with her sister and predecessor in regal office, Mary Tudor. Her successor, James I., has left a lasting evidence of his good feeling and good taste in the noble monument he erected to her memory in the Abbey, and she was the last sovereign of this country to whom a monument has been given.

We have very minute details of how royal personages were buried in France, in a curious book published in the 17th Century, from a MS. of the time of Louis XI. In it we learn that King Louis XI. wore scarlet for mourning on the death of his father, Charles VII. Up to the time of Louis XIV. the Queens of France, if they became widowed, wore white; and this is the reason that Mary Tudor was called "_La Reine Blanche_," when she clandestinely married the Duke of Suffolk in the chapel of that most interesting place, the Maison Cluny, now a museum, which still retains its name of _La Reine Blanche_. The Queen had been but a very short time the widow of Charles VIII., and still wore her weeds when she gave her hand to the lusty English duke. Mary Stuart wore white for her husband, Francis II. of France; and when she arrived in Scotland she still retained, for some months, her white robes, and was called the "White Queen" in consequence. But this illustrious and ill-fated princess throughout the greater part of her life wore black, and we have many minute details of her dresses, especially of the stately one she wore on the day of her execution, which was of brocaded satin, having a train of great length; a ruffle of white lawn, edged with lace; and a veil (which still exists) made of drawn threads, in a check-board pattern, and edged with Flemish lace. From her girdle was suspended a rosary, and in her hand she carried a crucifix. Her under garments, we know, were scarlet; for, when she removed her dress upon the scaffold, the bodice at least, all contemporaries agree, was flame-coloured. Queen Elizabeth ordered her Court to go into mourning for the Queen of Scots, whose sad and "accidental" death she hypocritically decreed should be regarded as a very great misfortune.

King James ordered the deepest mourning to be worn for his royal mother--a requisition with which all his nobles complied, except the Earl of Sinclair, who appeared before him clad in steel. The King frowned, and inquired if he had not seen the order for a general mourning. "Yes," was the noble's reply; "this is the proper mourning for the Queen of Scotland." James, however, whatever his inclinations might have been, was unprovided with the means of levying war against England, and his Ministers were entirely under the control of the English faction, and, after maintaining a resentful attitude for a time, he was at length obliged to accept Elizabeth's "explanation" of the murder of his mother.

Early in March, 1587, the obsequies of Mary Stuart were solemnised by the King, nobles, and people of France, with great pomp, in the Cathedral of Notre Dame at Paris, and a passionately eloquent funeral oration was pronounced by Renauld de Beaulue, Archbishop of Bourges and Patriarch of Acquitaine, which brought tears to the eyes of every person in the congregation.

After Mary's body had remained for nearly six months apparently forgotten by her murderers, Elizabeth considered it necessary, in consequence of the urgent and pathetic memorials of the afflicted servants of the unfortunate princess and the remonstrances of her royal son, to accord it not only Christian burial, but a pompous state funeral. This she appointed to take place in Peterborough Cathedral, and, three or four days before, sent some officials to make the necessary arrangements for the solemnity. The place selected for the interment was at the entrance of the choir from the south aisle. The grave was dug by the centogenarian sexton, Scarlett. Heralds and officers of the wardrobe were also sent to Fotheringay Castle to make arrangements for the removal of the royal body, and to prepare mourning for all the servants of the murdered Queen. Moreover, as their head-dresses were not of the approved fashion for mourning in England, Elizabeth sent a milliner on purpose to make others, in the orthodox mode, proper to be worn at the funeral, and to be theirs afterwards. However, these true mourners coldly, but firmly declined availing themselves of these gifts and attentions, declaring "that they would wear their own dresses, such as they had got made for mourning immediately after the loss of their beloved Queen and mistress."

On the evening of Sunday, July 30, Garter King of Arms arrived at Fotheringay Castle, with five other heralds and forty horsemen, to receive and escort the remains of Mary Stuart to Peterborough Cathedral, having brought with them a royal funereal car for that purpose, covered with black velvet, elaborately set forth with escutcheons of the arms of Scotland, and little pennons round about it, drawn by four richly-caparisoned horses. The body, being enclosed in lead within an outer coffin, was reverently put into the car, and the heralds, having assumed their coats and tabards, brought the same forth from the castle, bare-headed, by torchlight, about ten o'clock at night, followed by all her sorrowful servants.

The procession arrived at Peterborough between one and two o'clock on the morning of July 30, and was received ceremoniously at the minster door by the bishop and clergy, where, in the presence of her faithful Scotch attendants, she was laid in the vault prepared for her, without singing or saying--the grand ceremonial being appointed for August 1. The reason for depositing the royal body previously in the vault was, because it was too heavy to be carried in the procession, weighing, with the lead and outer coffin, nearly nine hundredweight. On Monday, the 31st, arrived the ceremonial mourners from London, escorting the Countess of Bedford, who was to represent Elizabeth in the mockery of acting as chief mourner to the poor victim. At eight in the morning of Tuesday the solemnities commenced. First, the Countess of Bedford was escorted in state to the great hall of the bishop's palace, where a representation of Mary's corpse lay on a royal bier. Thence she was followed into the church by a great number of English peers, peeresses, knights, ladies, and gentlemen, in mourning. All Mary's servants, both male and female, walked in the procession, according to their degree--among them her almoner, De Préau, bearing a large silver cross. The representation of the corpse being received without the Cathedral gate by the bishops and clergy, it was borne in solemn procession and set down within the royal hearse, which had been prepared for it, over the grave where the remains of the Queen had been silently deposited by torchlight on the Monday morning. The hearse was 20 feet square, and 27 feet high. On the coffin--which was covered with a pall of black velvet--lay a crown of gold, set with stones, resting on a purple velvet cushion, fringed and tasselled with gold.

All the Scotch Queen's train--both men and women, with the exception of Sir Andrew Melville and the two Mowbrays, who were members of the Reformed Church--departed, and would not tarry for sermon or prayers. This greatly offended the English portion of the congregation, who called after them and wanted to force them to remain. After the prayer and a funeral service, every officer broke his staff over his head and threw the pieces into the vault upon the coffin. The procession returned in the same order to the bishop's palace, where Mary's servants were invited to partake of the banquet which was provided for all the mourners; but they declined doing so, saying that "their hearts were too sad to feast."

But let us turn aside from the pageants of kings and queens, and direct our attention for a few moments towards Stratford-upon-Avon, where, on April 23, 1616, the greatest of all Englishmen breathed his last. A vague tradition tells us that, being in the company of Drayton and Ben Johnson, Shakespeare partook too freely of the cup, and expired soon after. This may be a calumny; and, if it were not, it would not diminish our gratitude and reverence for the highest intellect our race has produced. It, however, leads us to think and hope, that at the modest funeral of the "great Bard of Avon" the illustrious Ben Johnson as well as Drayton were present with his sorrowing relatives and fellow-citizens. His remains rest under the famous slab which bears the inscription due, it is said, to his own immortal pen:

"Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare
To digg T--E dust encloased here:
Blessed be T--E Man T/y spares T--ES Stones,
And curst be He T/y moves my bones."

If his contemporaries have forgotten to give us details of that memorable funeral, and if for nearly two centuries his modest grave was almost neglected, ample reparation has been made to his memory in this enlightened age, and Shakespeare's tomb has become a shrine visited by countless pilgrims from all parts of the earth; and a glorious monument, more beautiful than has been generally admitted, stands not far from the church, erected to Shakespeare only last year by a nobleman, Lord Ronald Gower, whose taste and culture would have done honour to the epoch which produced not Shakespeare alone, but Sydney and Raleigh.

If we could discover all the particulars respecting Shakespeare's burial, we should possibly find that, being a "gentleman," he was wrapped in his coffin in "wool," for which privilege his survivors paid a tax of 10s. This curious habit, which we derived from our Norman ancestors, endured until the first few years of this century. By "wool" we should read flannel. Almost all the old parish registers in the country make a point of informing us that "the body" was buried in wool, and the "usual tax paid." The Normans, and their descendants in Normandy to this day, had some curious superstitions connected with "flannel," which even the industrious bibliophile Jacob has failed to discover. This custom they introduced into England, and it lasted for hundreds of years. I believe the coffin was also frequently filled up with fine sheep's wool. Another curious custom, which is now obsolete, was to put cloves, spikenard, fine herbs, and twigs of various aromatic shrubs into the coffin, in memory of the embalming of our Lord. Young girls and unmarried women were buried in white, and had their coffins covered with white flowers. All the people who accompanied the funeral wore white scarves, and before the Reformation, white dresses, and the way was strewn with box leaves, grass, and flowers. The porch of the deceased's house was decked with flowers and garlands, and especially with dog-roses and daisies.

THE funeral ceremonies of the French kings and princes of the blood during the Middle Ages and the period of the Renaissance, were, as may well be imagined, exceedingly magnificent. As already related, the death criers announced the decease of the sovereign in the usual manner, shouting out, "_Oyez! bonnes gens de Paris_--listen, good people of Paris: the most high and mighty, excellent and powerful King, our sovereign Master, by the grace of God King of France, the most Christian of Princes, most clement and pious, died last night. Pray for the repose of his soul."

The first part of the ceremony took place at Notre Dame, where what is known as the lying-in-state was conducted with appropriate splendour. The procession, after a solemn mass, formed on the _Pavis_, or square, round the Cathedral, and began to move slowly over the bridge and through the Marais to St. Denis, some miles distant from Paris. There was a halt, however, at the convent of St. Lazaire (now covered by the railway station), and the gentlemen in attendance mounted their horses. Before the Revolution of '93, fifteen beautiful wayside crosses, or _montjoies_, as they were called, stood on the roadside between the Porte St. Denis and the Abbey. At each of these prayers were said and the coffin rested. Sometimes, as in the case of Charles VIII., the coffin and its waxen effigy were carried on the shoulders of a number of noblemen; but usually, since their feet were hidden by heavy black velvet draperies, very common men were charged with the "honourable burden." After the first half of the 16th Century, the royal body was conducted to the grave in a chariot drawn sometimes by as many as four-and-twenty black horses. If I err not, the last King of France whose coffin was carried by men was Francis I., whose gentlemen of the bedchamber performed this office, having each a halter round his neck, and a cord or rope.

At St. Denis the ceremonies were very imposing. High Mass of Requiem being over, the body was removed from the catafalque and lowered into the vaults under the altar. The Grand Almoner of France recited the _De profundis_, all kneeling. Suddenly a voice, that of the Herald-at-Arms, was heard, crying out from the vault below, "Kings-at-Arms, come do your duty." The grand officers were now summoned by name, thus: "Monsieur le duc de Bourbon, bring your staff of command over the hundred Archers of the Guard, and break it and throw it into the grave." "Monsieur le comte de Lorges, bring your staff of office as commander of the Scotch Guard, and break it and throw it into the grave," and so forth, until some fifty of the grand dignitaries of the Court had in turn performed this lengthy ceremony. The last time it occurred was in 1824, on the occasion of the funeral of Louis XVIII., when each detail of the ancient ceremonial was punctually followed. Every staff of office was broken and thrown into the King's grave, except the banner of France, which was merely inclined three times to the very edge of the crypt.

At the conclusion of this rather tedious ceremony, everybody knelt down, and the herald shouted, "The King is dead; pray for his soul." A moment of silence ensued, which was eventually broken by a blast of trumpets. Then the organ played a lively strain, and the Herald proclaimed, "_Le roi est mort, vive le roi_--long live the King!" The banners waved, the cannon boomed, the bells pealed forth joyously, and the procession reformed, whilst the officiating clergy sang the _Te Deum_. As almost all the Kings and Queens of France, with not more than half a dozen exceptions, from the time of Clovis to that of Louis XVIII., were buried at St. Denis, the funeral rites were rarely if ever altered. But with us, although so many of our most illustrious princes are interred at Westminster, still not a few were buried at St. Paul's; many at Blackfriars and at Greyfriars, two glorious churches destroyed in the 17th Century, at Windsor, and in various Cathedrals; so that our royal funereal ceremonies were not always conducted with such punctual etiquette as were those of our neighbours.

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THE minute details of the funeral of Mary Stuart, at Westminster Abbey, prove that it was conducted on the same scale and with the same ceremonies as the one which preceded it by many years at Peterborough. King James, her son, was present, and shortly afterwards the sumptuous monument which we still admire marked the place where her mutilated remains, translated from Peterborough, found a permanent place of rest.

The great changes in religion which occurred at the time of the Reformation, although they took much longer to permeate the habits and customs of the people than is usually imagined, nevertheless were so radical, that of the ancient ritual little soon remained, and the beautiful funeral service of the Church of England, which is so full of faith and hope, and mainly selected from passages of Holy Scripture adapted to the requirements of a religion which abolished belief in an intermediary state, and therefore in the necessity of prayers for the dead, was introduced, and little by little the pompous ceremonies of the Roman Church were forgotten. The lying-in-state of the corpse, for instance, which up to the close of the reign of Mary was general, even with poor people, was now only in use among those of the very highest rank. The increase in the use of carriages, too, and of course the abolition of the monastic orders and brotherhoods, diminished the splendour of the street processions which used to follow the bier. Still, much that was quaint remained in fashion, and it is only, as already said, a few years since that ladies ceased wearing a scarf and hood of black silk, and gentlemen "weepers" on their hats and arms, which were black or white according to the sex of the deceased. In Norfolk, until the end of the first quarter of the present century, it was the custom to give the mourners at a funeral black gloves, scarves, and bunches of herbs. Indeed, it is but a short time since a very old lady told me that so rich, broad, and beautiful was the silk of the scarves presented to each lady at a funeral, when she was a girl, that ladies were wont to keep the pieces by them until they were sufficient in number to form a dress. A bill of the funeral expenses of a very rich gentleman who died at Brandon Hall, in Norfolk, early in this century,--Mr. Denn, of Norwich,--and who left over half a million of money, enables us to form some idea of the expense to which our grandfathers of the upper class were put in order to be buried with what they considered proper respect. It would seem that in those days the hearse and funeral carriages had to be hired from London, and they took three days to perform the journey from the metropolis--a distance of about three hours by rail. No fewer than 40 persons figure as accompanying these vehicles, and as they had to be put up at inns along the road, going both to and from London to Brandon Hall, their expenses were £180. The hire of horses and carriages was £106, and what with the distribution of loaves to the poor at the grave, and the expense of bringing relatives from far parts of the country, and of providing them with silk scarves, gloves, etc., and the housing and entertaining of them all, the worthy Mr. Denn's funeral cost his survivors not less than £775.

In Picard, there is a very beautiful engraving by Schley, representing a funeral procession in 1735, entering the church of St. Paul's, Covent Garden. It occurs by night, and a number of pages in black velvet walk in it, carrying lighted three-branched silver candlesticks. It seems that until 1775 women in England only attended the funerals of their own sex, and that men in the same manner only followed men to the grave. Possibly as a disinfectant against the plague, at all English funerals a branch of rosemary was handed to all who attended, which they threw into the open grave. This fashion endured, to the writer's knowledge, in Norfolk up to 1856.

The French Revolution cannot be described as an unmitigated blessing--far from it; but it certainly did away with many superstitious practices, and shed a flood of light upon civilisation. Before that event it was the universal custom throughout Europe to bury in churches, a practice which was most detrimental to health. By one of the earliest decrees passed by the Convention of Paris, 1794, intramural interments were abolished, although, to be sure, cemeteries already existed of considerable extent, possibly suggested by those which for ages the Mahometans have used in all the principal cities of Asia and Asiatic Europe. That of Père la Chaise, so called after the confessor of Madame de Maintenon, who founded it, is one of the earliest. With the counter-Reformation, as the movement is called in history, the ceremonial of the Roman Church became, on the Continent, even more elaborate than heretofore, and nothing can be imagined more theatrically splendid than the church decorations on occasions of funerals of eminent personages.

From the last half of the 16th Century down to the Revolution of 1789, possibly the most extraordinary funeral recorded in history was that of the Emperor Charles V. It was celebrated with almost identical pomp simultaneously, at Madrid and at Brussels. The procession at Brussels took six hours to pass any one point, and it is estimated that 80,000 persons walked in it, the participants being supplied from every city of Belgium and Holland. In this extraordinary function figured cars on floats, representing certain striking events in the life of the Emperor, and one of these we reproduce, since it will best afford an idea of the supreme magnificence of the spectacle. It represents a ship, and is intended to illustrate the maritime progress made in the reign of this enterprising monarch. The float on which this clever model of a vessel of the period was arranged was dragged through the streets by 24 black horses, covered with black velvet, and followed by representatives of the navies both of Belgium and Spain, and by some 300 lads dressed as sailors of all nations.

We also reproduce a little sketch from the funeral procession of Philip II., son of Charles V., which gives us an excellent idea of the costumes worn on such an important occasion. The large full-page engraving represents a portion of the funeral procession which took place at Brussels, of the Archduke Albert VII. of Austria, surnamed "the Pious." It was almost as sumptuous as that of Charles V., and, fortunately a complete record of it has been preserved by Francovoart, who published a book in the following year, containing no less than 49 plates illustrating this pageantic procession, which was of enormous length, and must have cost a great sum of money. The great engraver Cochin has left us one of his most beautiful plates, representing the interior of the Church of Notre Dame as arranged for the funeral of the Infanta Theresa of Spain, Dauphiness of France, in 1746. It gives us rather the idea of a scene in a court ball-room than of a grave ceremony. Literally, thousands of lights blazed in all directions, and there was nothing of a sombre character present, excepting the catafalque, which was of black velvet, and in a certain sense produced an admirable effect by showing off to still greater advantage the illuminations. The funeral of Louis XIV., was fabulously gorgeous, and so complete an apotheosis of that vain monarch, it brought about a sort of reaction, and made most persons observe that it was of little use praying for the soul of one who evidently must already be in glory. In order to put some bounds to these extravagant services, many people of a devout character have in all ages prayed in their wills that they should be carried to the grave in the simplest manner, sometimes in the habit of a Franciscan, or mendicant friar, and that only a few pounds should be expended upon their burial.

The Italians, and especially the Venetians, spent enormous sums upon their funeral services, which were exceedingly picturesque; but as the members of the brotherhoods who walked in the procession wore pointed hoods and masks, so that, by the glare of the torches, only their eyes could be seen glittering, and as it was the custom, also, for the funeral to take place at night, the body being exposed upon an open bier, in full dress, the scene was sufficiently weird to attract the attention of travellers, perhaps more so than anything else which they saw in the land _par excellence_ of pageant. Horace Mann, in one of his letters, thus amusingly describes the funeral of the daughter of Cosmo III., Grand Duke of Tuscany:--

"There was nothing extraordinary in the funeral last night. All the magnificence consisted in a prodigious number of torches carried by the different orders of priests, the expense of which in lights, they say, amounted to 12,000 crowns. The body was in a sort of a coach quite open, with a canopy over her head; two other coaches followed with her ladies. As soon as the procession was passed by Madame Suares's, I went a back way to St. Laurence, where I had been invited by the master of the ceremonies; here was nothing very particular but my being placed next to Lady Walpole, who is so angry with me that she would not even give me the opportunity of making her a bow, which for the future, since I see it will be disagreeable to her, I will never offer to do again."

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NOTHING could be imagined more picturesque than a Venetian funeral in bygone days. The state gondola of the family, containing the body, and also the attendant priests and friars, was covered with black velvet, and blazed with candelabra full of lighted candles; and from the stern of the boat hung an immense train of black velvet, which was permitted to touch the water, but prevented from sinking underneath it by golden tassels, which were held by members of the family in the gondolas which followed close behind. All those persons who took part in the funeral of course carried lights in their hands. If the individual happened to belong to one of the numerous confraternities, or _scuole_, which existed in Venice up to the end of the last century, a grand musical mass was celebrated in the chapel belonging to the order; and on these occasions some of the finest music ever composed was heard for the first time, such, for instance, as Paesiello's Requiem, an infinitely beautiful one by Marcello, and the majestic mass for four voices, by Lotti.

THE funeral of a Pope is attended by many curious ceremonies, not the least remarkable of which is, that so soon as His Holiness' death is thoroughly assured, the eldest Cardinal goes up to the body, and strikes it three times gently on the breast, saying in Latin, as he does so, "The Holy Father has passed away." The body is then lowered into the Church of St. Peter's, where it is exhibited--as was the case when Pope Pius IX. died in '78--for three days to the veneration of the faithful, after which it is conveyed in great state to the church which the Pope has selected for his burial-place. As it passed along the streets of Rome in the good old times, the members of the nobility assembled at the entrance of their houses, each carrying a lighted taper in his hand, and answering back the prayers of the friars and clergy in the procession. It will be remembered that it was this sort of spontaneous illumination which so offended a rabble of freethinkers, on the occasion of the funeral of the late Pope, that they stoned the coffin, and created a riot of a most disgraceful character. After the Pope is buried, it is usual for his successor or his family to build a stately monument over his remains, and this custom accounts for the amazing number of fine Papal monuments in the Roman basilicas and churches.

At a time when everybody is talking about the Stuart dynasty, owing to the great success of the recent exhibition of their relics (1888-9), the following curious account of the interment of the Old Pretender will prove of interest:--

"On the 6th of January, 1756, the body of his 'Britannic Majesty' was conveyed in great state to the said Church of the Twelve Apostles," says a correspondent from Rome of that date, "preceded by four servants carrying torches, two detachments of soldiers; and by the side of the bier walked twenty-four grooms of the stable with wax candles; the body of the deceased was dressed royally, and borne by nobles of his household, with an ivory sceptre at its side, and the Orders of SS. George and Andrew on the breast.

"On the 7th, the first funeral service took place, in the Church of the Twelve Apostles. The _façade_ of the church was hung with black cloth, lace, and golden fringe, in the centre of which was a medallion, supported by skeletons with cypress branches in their hands, and bearing the following inscription:

'Clemens XIII. Pont. Max.
Jacobo III.
M. Britanniæ, Franciæ, et Hiberniæ Regi.
Catholicæ fidei Defensori,
Omnium urbis ordinum
Frequentia funere honestato.
Suprema pietatis officia
Solemni ritu Persolvit.'

"On entering the church, another great inscription to the same purport was to be seen; the building inside was draped in the deepest black, and on the bier, covered with cloth of gold, lay the corpse, before which was written in large letters:

'Jacobus III. Magnæ Britanniæ Rex.
Anno MDCCLXVI.'

"On either side stood four silver skeletons on pedestals, draped in black cloth, and holding large branch candlesticks, each with three lights. At either corner stood a golden perfume box, decorated with death's-heads, leaves and festoons of cypress. The steps to the bier were painted in imitation marble, and had pictures upon them representing the virtues of the deceased. Over the whole was a canopy ornamented with crowns, banners, death's-heads, gilded lilies, etc.; and behind, a great cloth of peacock colour with golden embroidery, and ermine upon it, hung down to the ground. Over each of the heavily draped arches down the nave of the church were medallions with death's-head supporters, and crowns above them, representing the various British orders and the three kingdoms of England, Ireland, and Scotland; and on the pilasters were other medallions, supported by cherubs, expressing virtues attributed to the deceased, each with an inscription, of which the following is an instance:

'Rex Jacobus III. vere dignus imperio, quia natus ad imperandum:
dignus quia ipso regnante virtutes imperassent: dignissimus quia
sibi imperavit.'

"On the top of the bier, in the nave, lay the body, dressed in royal garb of gold brocade, with a mantle of crimson velvet, lined and edged with ermine, a crown on his head, a sceptre in his right hand, an orb in his left. The two Orders of SS. George and Andrew were fastened to his breast.

"Pope Clement regretted his inability to attend the funeral, owing to the coldness of the morning, but he sent twenty-two cardinals to sing mass, besides numerous church dignitaries.

"After the celebration of the mass, Monsignor Orazio Matteo recited a funeral oration of great length, recapitulating the virtues of the deceased, and the incidents of the life of exile and privation that he had led. After which, the customary _requiem_ for the soul of the departed was sung, and they then proceeded to convey his deceased Majesty's body to the Basilica of St. Peter.

"The procession which accompanied it was one of those gorgeous spectacles in which the popes and their cardinals loved to indulge. Every citizen came to see it, and crowds poured in to the Eternal City from the neighbouring towns and villages, as they were wont to do for the festivals at Easter, of Corpus Domini.

"All the orders and confraternities to be found in Rome went in front, carrying amongst them 500 torches. They marched in rows, four deep; and after them came the pupils of the English, Scotch, and Irish College in Rome, in their surplices, and with more torches.

"Then followed the bier, around which were the gaudy Swiss Papal Guards. The four corners of the pall were held up by four of the most distinguished members of the Stuart household.

"Then came singers, porters carrying two large umbrellas, such as the Pope would have at his coronation, and all the servants of the royal household, in deep mourning, and on foot. After them followed the papal household; and twelve mourning coaches closed the procession.

"The body was placed in the chapel of the choir of St. Peter's, and after the absolution, which Monsignor Lascaris pronounced, it was put into a cypress-wood case, in presence of the major-domo of the Vatican, who made a formal consignment of it to the Chapter of St. Peter's, in the presence of the notary of the 'Sacred Apostolic Palace,' who witnessed the consignment, whilst the notary of the Chapter of St. Peter's gave him a formal receipt.

"The second funeral was fixed for the following day, when everything was done to make the choir of St. Peter's look gorgeous. A large catafalque was raised in the midst, on the top of which, on a cushion of black velvet embroidered with gold, lay the royal crown and sceptre, under a canopy adorned with ermine; 250 candles burnt around, and the inscription over the catafalque ran as follows:

'Memoriæ æternæ Jacobi III., Magnæ Britanniæ Franciæ et Hyber,
regis Parentis optimii Henricus Card. Dux Eboracensis moerens justa
persolvit.'

"Then the cardinals held service, thirteen of whom were then assembled; after which, the Chapter of St. Peter's and the Vatican clergy, with all the Court of the defunct king who had assisted at the mass, accompanied the body to the subterranean vaults beneath St. Peter's, where the bier was laid aside until such times and seasons as a fitting memorial could be placed over it."

AMONG the Jews, according to Buxtorf (who published, in the 17th Century, perhaps the most valuable work upon the Jewish ceremonies which still existed in various parts of Europe in his time, many of which have been modified or have entirely disappeared since), it was the fashion when a person died, after having closed the eyes and mouth, to twist the thumb of the right hand inward, and to tie it with a string of the _taled_, or veil, which covered the face, and was invariably buried with the corpse. The reason for this doubling of the thumb was that, when it was thus turned inward, it represented the figure Schaddai, which is one of the names of God. Otherwise, the fingers were stretched out so as to show that the deceased had given up all the goods of this world. The body was most carefully washed, to indicate that the dead was purified by repentance. Buxtorf tells us that in Holland, with the old-fashioned Jews, it was the custom to break an egg into a glass of wine, and to wash the face therewith. The more devout persons were dressed in the same garments that they wore on the last feast of the Passover. When the body is placed in the coffin, it is the habit even now, among the Polish and Oriental Jews, for ten members of the family, or very old friends, to walk processionally round it, saying prayers for the repose of the soul. In olden times, for three days after the death, the family sat at home in a darkened room and received their friends, who were indeed Job's comforters; for they sought to afflict them in every way by recalling the virtues of the dead person, and exaggerating the misery into which they were thrown by his or her departure. Seven days afterwards, they were employed in a less rigorous form of mourning, at the end of which the family again went to the synagogue and offered up prayers, after which they followed the customs of the country in which they lived, retaining their mourning only so long as accorded with the prevailing fashion of the day.

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ONE of the saddest, and certainly the simplest of royal funerals, was that of King Charles I. After his lamentable execution, his body lay at Whitehall from January 28, 1649, to the following February 7, when it was conveyed to Windsor, placed in the vault of St. George's Chapel, near the coffins of Henry VIII. and Jane Seymour. The day had been very snowy, and the snow rested thick on the coffin and on the cloaks and hats of the mourners. The remains were deposited without any service whatever, and left inscriptionless, save for the words "Charles Rex, 1649," the letters of which were cut out of a band of lead by the gentlemen present, with their penknives, and the lead fastened round the coffin. In this state it remained until the year 1813, when George IV. caused it to be more fittingly interred. In striking contrast were the obsequies of the unfortunate King's great rival and enemy, Cromwell, "who lay in glorious state" at Somerset House, all the ceremonial being copied from that of the interment of Philip II. of Spain. The rooms were hung with black cloth, and in the principal saloon was an effigy of the Protector, with a royal crown upon his head and a sceptre in his hand, stretched upon a bed of state erected over his coffin. Crowds of people of all ranks went daily during eight weeks to see it, the place being illuminated by hundreds of candles. The wax cast of the face of Cromwell after death is still preserved in the British Museum. His body, however, was carried away secretly, and at night, and buried privately at Westminster, for fear of trouble. Later, in 1660, the remains of the great Protector, and those of his friends Ireton and Bradshaw, were sacrilegiously taken from their graves, dragged with ignominy through the streets, and hanged at Tyburn, to the apparent satisfaction of Mrs. Pepys and her friend Lady Batten, and all and sundry in London, as is recorded in the "immortal diary." By the way, Mr. Pepys himself, who died in 1703, was buried with much state and circumstance in Crutched Friars Church, but at night, the service being said by Dr. Hickes, the author of the _Thesaurus_.

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PERHAPS the strangest funeral recorded in modern history was that of the translation of the remains of Voltaire, popularly known as his "apotheosis." The National Assembly in May, 1791, decreed that the bones of the poet should be brought from the Abbey of Scellières, and carried in state to the Pantheon. In Voltaire's lifetime it was boasted that he had buried the priests and the Christian religion, but now the priests were going to bury him, having very little of Christian religion left amongst them. The day of the procession was fixed for July 10; but the 10th was a deluging, rainy day, and the ceremony was postponed to the next day, or till the weather should be fine. The next day was as wet, and the Assembly was about to renew the postponement, when about two o'clock it cleared up. The coffin was placed on a car of the classic form, and was borne first to the spot on which the Bastille had stood, where it was placed on a platform, being covered with myrtles, roses, and wild flowers, and bearing the following inscriptions:--"If a man is born free, he ought to govern himself." "If a man has tyrants placed over him, he ought to dethrone them." Besides these, there were numerous other inscriptions in different parts of the area, including one on a huge block of stone: "Receive, O Voltaire! on this spot, where despotism once held thee in chains, the honours thy country renders thee!"

From the Bastille to the Pantheon all Paris seemed to be following the procession, which consisted of soldiers, lawyers, doctors, municipal bodies, a crowd of poets, literary men, and artists carrying a gilded chest containing the seventy volumes of Voltaire's works; men who had taken part in the demolition of the Bastille, bearing chains, fetters, and cuirasses found in the prison; a bust of Voltaire, surrounded by those of Rousseau, Mirabeau, and Montaigne, borne by the actors from the different theatres, in ancient costume; and lastly came the funeral car, now surmounted by a statue of the philosopher, which France was crowning with a wreath of immortelles. The immense procession halted at various places for the effigy to receive particular honours. At the opera houses the actors and actresses were waiting to present a laurel crown and to sing to Voltaire's glory; at the house of M. Villette--where was yet deposited the heart of the great man, previous to being sent to Fernay--four tall poplars were planted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of flowers, and on the front of the house was written in large letters: "His genius is everywhere, and his heart is here." Near this was raised a sort of amphitheatre, on which were seated a crowd of young girls in white dresses with blue sashes, crowned with roses, and holding wreaths in honour of the poet in their hands. The names of all Voltaire's works were written on the front of the Theatre Français. The next halt was made on the site of the Comédie Française, and a statue of the poet was there crowned by actors costumed as Tragedy and Comedy. Thence the procession wended its way to the Pantheon, where the mouldering remains of Voltaire were placed beside those of Descartes and Mirabeau. All Paris that evening was one festal scene; illuminations blazing on the busts and figures of the patriot of equality.