Fig. 21.—Scene from Richard III.—The body of Henry VI. being by chance met by Richard on its way to Chertsey, he orders the bearers to set it down, and then pleads his cause to the Lady Anne.
Shakespeare, whose knowledge of Catholicism of course came to him from immediate tradition, possibly remembered a very ancient custom when, in Richard III., he makes the Duke of Glo'ster command the attendants who follow the body of Henry VI. to set it down,—an order which they obey reluctantly enough,—thereby giving him an opportunity to make love to Lady Anne in the presence of her murdered father-in-law's remains. In Catholic times the streets were adorned not only by many fine crosses, such as those at Charing and Cheapside, but also by numerous chapels and wayside shrines. Funerals, when they passed these, were in the habit of stopping, and the assistants, kneeling, prayed for the dead person whom they were carrying to the grave. They likewise stopped, also, and very frequently too, at certain well-known public-houses or taverns, the members of the family of the deceased being obliged by custom to "wet the lips" of the "thirsty souls" who carried the corpse. Sometimes very disorderly scenes ensued. The hired mourners and more unruly members of the guilds got drunk; and it is on record that on more than one occasion the body was pulled out of its coffin by these rascals and outraged, to the horror and indignation of honest people. It has frequently occurred to the writer, that if the attendants in the curious scene in the tragedy just mentioned, were to convey the body of the dead King to the side or back of the stage, in front of some shrine or cross, and occupy themselves with prayer, they would render the astonishing dialogue between Glo'ster and Lady Anne much more intelligible than when we hear it spoken, as is usually the case, before a number of persons for whose ears it was certainly never intended.
Fig. 22.—Funeral of King Richard II., showing his waxen effigy.—From an early MS. of Froissart.
MPORTANT personages in olden times in this country were usually embalmed. The poor, on the contrary, were rarely furnished even with a decent coffin, but were carried to the grave in a hired one, which, in villages, often did duty for many successive years. Once the brief service was said, the pauper's body, in its winding-sheet, was placed reverently enough in the earth, and covered up—a fact which doubtless accounts for the numerous village legends of ghosts wandering about in winding-sheets. Charitable people paid for masses to be said by the friars for their poorer brethren, and the guilds paid all expenses of the funeral, which were naturally not very considerable. On the other hand, the funeral of great personages, from king to squire, was a function which sometimes lasted a week. The bell tolled—as it still does—the moment the death became known to the bell-ringer. Then the body was washed, embalmed with spices and sweet herbs, wrapped in a winding-sheet of fine linen,—which, by the way, was often included among the wedding presents—and taken down into the hall of the palace or manor, which was hung with black, and lighted by many tapers, and even by waxen torches—sometimes as many as 300 and 400 of them—an immense expense, considering the cost of wax in those days. After three days' exposition—if the body remained incorrupt so long—the corpse was sealed up in a leaden coffin, and taken to the church, where solemn masses were sung. The clothes—we may presume the old and well-worn ones only—were then formally distributed to the poor of the parish. Finally came the funeral banquet of "baked meats," to which all those, including the clergy, who had taken part in the funeral service and procession were invited.
When the Sovereign or any person of royal rank deceased, a waxen presentment was immediately made of him as he was seen in life under the influence of sleep. This figure, dressed in the regal robes, was exposed upon the catafalque in the church, instead of the real body—a custom doubtless inspired originally by hygienic motives, for frequently the funeral rites of a king or prince of the blood were prolonged for many days. In Westminster Abbey there are still several of these grim ancient waxen effigies to be seen, by special permission of the Dean, very faded and ghastly, but interesting as likenesses, and for the fragments which time has spared of their once gorgeous attire. This custom lasted with us until the time of William and Mary. In France it disappeared in the middle of the 17th Century, the last mention of it being on the occasion of the death of Anne of Austria; for we read in a curious letter from Guy Patin to his friend Falconet, "The Queen-Mother died to-day [Jan. 21, 1666]. She was immediately embalmed, and by noon her waxen effigy was on view at the Louvre. Thousands are pressing in to see it."