FUNERALS

The Seventh-Day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · December 4, 1879

FromThe Advent Review and Sabbath Herald, Vol. 54, No. 23

It is said that in Philadelphia, more than any other city, funerals have degenerated into fashion and fine art. Until within a year or two, every house in which a death occurred was closed for twelve months, and each window draped with black. Nothing could be more lugubrious than the aspect of the streets. This custom has fallen partially into disuse, but the fashionable undertaker still maintains his absolute sway. The moment that the breath is out of the body, he takes possession of the house, mourners, corpse and all, and orders every detail to suit his inexorable rules. The most agonizing grief must conduct itself in harmony with his pomp of mutes, flowers, plumes, etc.

A story is told of a young fellow, a sincere mourner for his father, who had become utterly disgusted by the mockery of woe about him, when the undertaker, while arranging the coffin, applied his handkerchief to his eyes. His assistants at once followed his example. The young man tapped him on the shoulder.

“None of that!” he said, sharply, “none of that.” The man of woe instantly put his handkerchief in his pocket, and turned on him, smiling blandly.

“Just as you please, Mr. C., just as you please. Some families prefer it, and some do not.”

The extent to which fashionable folly has been carried in funerals has lately caused a wholesome reaction in that city. In families of the highest culture, the dead are put out of sight with absolute quiet and simplicity, attended to the grave only by those who loved them best. It would be well if Boston and New York would also follow the dictates of good taste and good feeling in this matter.

Among the ignorant poor, the desire to make a parade of a funeral is well-nigh universal. A poor woman died lately of starvation. A subscription was started for the children, and the wealthier neighbors, shocked into kindly feeling, gave liberally. But the whole fund was spent in hacks, candles, high mass, etc. “Who would begrudge a poor soul that had starved to death a decent buryin’?”

Doctor Le Moyne, who built a cremation-furnace in Pennsylvania, was, it is said, prompted to do so by his disgust at the vulgar display of fashionable funerals, and his desire to provide a cheap and simple mode of disposing of the dead.—Youth’s Companion.