The times., 1898-07-03
RESTING IN WESTMINSTER.
Curious Customs Regarding Inter-
ments I'm the Abbey.

nerals stretching back right away TO
that of Edward the Confessor. more than
eight centuries ago, afforded many
striking scene and many a startling Incl
dent-incidents, some of them, throwing
a strong and Interesting light On the
thoughts and feelings and manners of
the past. A funeral that took place here
rather more than a hundred years ago,
says the London Daily News, was at
tended by an accident that was not only
Of startling and serious character, but,
il the chroniciers Of the time may be re-
lied upon, afforded incidentally a Curl
ously callous condition Of public feeling,
impressiyely contrasting with what
would be shown under similar circum-
stances IN the present day. 1t was the
funeral of Elizabeth Percy, the first
Duchess of Northumberland, a lady well
known for her charity, and for her pax
ronage Of literature. She had earnestly
requested that her funeral might be as
private as her rank you'd admit. The
people came into the abbey in such num-
bers, however. that the authorities seem
to have been quite overwhelmed, and
the clergy and choir could with only the
greatest difficulty make their way from
the west door of st. Nicholas Chapel,
where the interment was TO take place.
a number OF men and boys had clam
bered on 10 the TOP f-the screen Of ST.
Edmund's Chapel, and the canopy over
the tomb Of John Ethan, and as the
funeral procession went by, down came
screen and canopy upon the people be-
low. a scene of indescribable confusion
followed At that time great personages
were always buried by t0rchlight, and
this funeral seems 10 have taken place at
10 o'clock at night. The procession was
broken up, the services suspended, tha
coffin left amid the ruins OF the screen,
and the dean Of the abbey timorously
cleared out of the alarming scene, and
did not venture out TO continue the ser
vice till after midnight. In the Annual
Register of that date the amazing state
ment is made that the ceremony was
completed amid cries of murder" raised
by such of the sufferers as had not been
removed two hours and more after the
accident had happened.
Only few years or so before this-in
the Summer Of 1854 that is-another
scene even more extraordinary in its
character broke the solemn peace of the
sacred building. 1t was at the funeral of
the aged Poulteney. The vault lay near
the tomb OF Edward |, over which hung
a massive canopy of wood. On this royal
tomb a number Of gentlemen had taken
their stand to witness the funeral, when
there was a great inrush of the crowd
toward the ConfessGr'S Chapel, and IN a
moment Of unaccountable panic swords
were drawn, and some of the gentlemen
on Edwards tomb tore down the rafters
of the canopy 10 beat back the mob. Il
stood" said one who was present, with
many ~ the others on the top of the
tomb. A dreadful conflict ensued-
Darkness soon closed the scene This
funeral also was Al night and the dark
ness must have been due to the gradual
extinction Of the torches and candles
the weird glare Of which must have add
ed so much 10 the terrible impresslveness
OF a scene Of this kind
OF interrupted funerals in tae abbey,
the most remarkable, surely, must have
been that Of Dryden. # the story quoted
very dubiOus,y II IS true-5y DIR. John
son in his lives Of the poets is not a very
extraordinary invention. When Dean
Sprat heard of Drydens death he sent 10
the family 10 say that he would give a
freehold grave and would forcgo all fees,
and Lord Halifax offered to pay all ex-
penses Of the funeral and give $500 for a
monument. This was gladly accepted,
and when the appointed night came the
dean mad the abbey lighted up. the
grave opened. the choir attending. an an
them ready set and himself waiting some
time without corpse TO bury" Accord
ing to the story. the funeral cortege had
a velvet hearse' and eighteen carriages
well filled with the funeral guests. when
the son Of Lord Jeffreys chanced to come
by, expressed his Indignation that so
great man should have 20 hurried and
private a funeral and actually succeed
ed in getting The ceremony postponed un-
der the promise himself to become re-
sponsible for something wOrthier Of the
poet. He ordered the body to be driven
rFf r1ry u
and there it lay for three DAYS. the young
lord!ing next day repudiating the whole
business as mere drunken freak on the
part Of himself and his companions. 1t is
scarcely credible story. but there
certainly seems to have been something
Irregular and strange about the burial
It IS said that Lord Halifax and the dean
We're so indignant that they would near
Of no apology. and refused TO have any
thing to do with the matter and it
seems certain that DR.. Gath and the Col
lege Of Physicians undertook clle funeral
by subscription, and there IS no doubt
that It was not until twelve days after
that the deceased poet was eventually
laid in the abbey.
Addison lay In state in the Jerusalem
Chamber, and was borne thence to the
abbey at dead Of night. The choir sang
a funeral hymn. Bishop Atterbury," saws
Macaulay, "one of those Tories who had
loved and honored the most accomplished
Of the Wings, met the corpse and led the
procession. by torchlight. round the shrine
Of ST. Edmund and the graves of lie
Plantagenets. to the chapel of Henry
VII AT the head Of the vault" says
Dean Stanley "Atterbury officiated as
dean, in mis- prelate's robes. Round him
stood the Westminster scholars, with their
white tapers dimly lighting up the fret
ted aisle
This curious practice of conducting all
great funerals by the light of tapers and
torches was adhered 10, in spite of Puri-
tan protests till toward the close of the
eighteenth century. These night scenes
occasionally had something quite terrible
about them. For instance, the body of
ArabeIIa Stuart cousin Of James I, who
died in the Tower, under royal displeasure,
was brought up by boat at midnight ard
laid, with no solemnity," on the coffin of
Mary Stuart, her coffin, without plate,
and so frail that the skull and bones were,
even as far back as the record of visitors
extends, visible through its shattered
frame" There is something very drearily
impressive in the thought of that silent
passage of the poor prisoner from the
Tower, up the dark river and into the
midnight gloom of the great abbey, there
to be hustled into dishonored grave ty
the Pickering light of torches Very dis
NAL, too. is the story of the next burial
there-Anne of Denmark. She died in
Somerset House. The king, at the time
was i'll at Newmarket, and it would seem,
terribly pinched for money.
II was TO have been a splendid pageant,
but was sadly curtailed, no doubt, from
the want of funds. ''There was long
procession of 250 ladies in black-a drawl-
ing. dolorois sight. tagging. tired, with
the length of the way" There was no
money to put the Kings servants into
mourning. This lugubrious ceremony