A chairman late’s a chairman dead,
And to his grave, by chairman sped,
They wake him, as they march him through
The streets of Bath, to public view.
To the Editor.
Bath.
Sir,—I beg leave to transmit for your use the following attempt at description of an old and singular custom, performed by the chairman of this my native city, which perhaps you are not altogether a stranger to, and which is still kept up among them as often as an opportunity permits for its performance. Its origin I have not been able to trace, but its authenticity you may rely on, as it is too often seen to be forgotten by your Bath readers. I have also accompanied it with the above imperfect [sketch], as a further illustration of their manner of burying the “dead,” alias, exposing a drunkard of their fraternity. The following is the manner in which the “obsequies” to the intoxicated are performed.
If a chairman, known to have been “dead” drunk over night, does not appear on his station before ten o’clock on the succeeding morning, the “undertaker,” Anglice, his partner, proceeds, with such a number of attendants as will suffice for the ceremony, to the house of the late unfortunate. If he is found in bed, as is usually the case, from the effects of his sacrifice to the “jolly God,” they pull him out of his nest, hardly permitting him to dress, and place him on the “bier,”—a chairman’s horse,—and, throwing a coat over him, which they designate a “pall,” they perambulate the circuit of his station in the following order:—
1. The sexton—a man tolling a small hand-bell.
2. Two mutes—each with a black stocking on a stick.
3. The torch bearer—a man carrying a lighted lantern.
4. The “corpse” borne on the “hearse,” carried by two chairmen, covered with the aforesaid pall.
The procession is closed by the “mourners” following after, two and two; as many joining as choose, from the station to which the drunkard belongs.