{"id":2523,"date":"2025-04-22T03:00:00","date_gmt":"2025-04-22T03:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.exeter.ac.uk\/materialcultureofwills\/?p=2523"},"modified":"2026-02-20T17:16:52","modified_gmt":"2026-02-20T17:16:52","slug":"will-of-the-month-a-wiltshire-gentleman-and-his-funeral-pall","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.exeter.ac.uk\/materialcultureofwills\/2025\/04\/22\/will-of-the-month-a-wiltshire-gentleman-and-his-funeral-pall\/","title":{"rendered":"Will of the Month: A Wiltshire Gentleman and his funeral pall"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

This month\u2019s post has been inspired by conversations with the project\u2019s Creative Fellow, composer, arranger, performer and lyricist\u00a0<\/em>Chris Hoban<\/em><\/a>. Chris has recently been analysing the wills of sextons and thinking about the symbolism of the body being laid to rest. This is a longstanding interest of his \u2013 you can listen to one of his songs on this topic, The Old Lych Way, here.<\/a> You can find out more about Chris\u2019s work with the project via the ‘Wills as Songs’ tab above. At the end of the post you can read the lyrics of an associated song.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

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The frontispiece from John Dunton\u2019s \u2018A Mourning=Ring\u2019 (1692). The series of images on the left shows a deceased man in his shroud, the black funeral pall or hearse-cloth draped over the coffin, and the carrying of the coffin to the burial ground.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

While early modern will-makers often stated their wishes for their burial, testators gave varying levels of detail. Many simply entrusted funeral logistics to the discretion of the executors of their will, asserting only their wish to be buried \u2018decently\u2019. Others specified their hopes to be buried in the churchyard in the parish \u2018in which I now dwell\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By comparison, the will of James Liddell, a gentleman who died in the Wiltshire village of Lacock in 1664, is unusually detailed in establishing his specific plans for the interment of his body.[1]<\/a> While religious language in wills is often formulaic, many of Liddell\u2019s provisions for his body and soul, beginning with his \u2018blessed assureance of a Joyfull resurrection\u2019 appear as more personal and precise articulations of piety.  Liddell\u2019s bequests planned not only for his own Christian burial, but for the future burials of his fellow parishioners and \u2018gods people\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n

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View of St Cyriac’s Church in Lacock<\/a>, Wiltshire as seen from the south, in the churchyard. Photograph \u00a9 Ethan Doyle White, Wikimedia Commons.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

Wishes fulfilled \u2018for loves sake\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

James firstly stated his desire \u2018to be buryed in the Chancell of the parrish Church of Laycocke by my deare wife who lyes buryed under the Communion Table\u2019. It appears that Liddell made a special request to be reunited with his wife in death: \u2018And this Charitie I desire of Sherington Talbott Esquire patron of the said Church for loves sake not to deny me giveing him twenty shillings for his good will therein\u2019. Colonel Sharington Talbot was part of the Talbot family who owned the country house of Lacock Abbey, and much of the village itself. Twenty shillings was a \u2018token\u2019 remuneration: Liddell, a gentleman of good standing in the village, instead appeals to Talbot\u2019s good will, his \u2018Charitie\u2019, and his love to permit burial in this prominent setting. Later in the will he asked that Talbot also be paid \u2018such herriotts\u2019 (payments to a landowner) \u2018which upon my death shalbe due unto him\u2019.[2]<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Having established his intentions for his body\u2019s committal \u2018to the earth\u2019, Liddell\u2019s will then turned to his \u2018worldly goods\u2019. He left several items of clothing to Thomas Lyddall: \u2018my medley cloake my rideing Coate and my best cloath suite\u2019. Some of his \u2018deare\u2019 wife\u2019s belongings were given to a Mistress Cutler: \u2018my wives new rideing suite a little silver bottle 3 silver spoones and a little one of silver my wives wedding ring and a little silver salt\u2019. He also gave \u2018unto my good brother Mr Richard Ashleyes yongest daughter by his last wife the imbrodered purse\u2019. Seventeenth-century embroidered purses were not usually used to carry money. They may instead have been used to hold mirrors, or sweet-smelling dried flowers that were designed to mask body odour.[3]<\/a> The items that Liddell singled out for mention were largely decorative or valuable (including \u2018best\u2019 or \u2018new\u2019 clothing) or of personal or sentimental value (his wife\u2019s wedding ring). The rest of his \u2018goods Chattells and moveables\u2019 were to be left to his \u2018wellbeloved Cousins in Christ\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n

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An example of an \u2018imbrodered purse\u2019. Purse, metal thread and silk embroidery on paper, English, 1600-1635, \u00a9 Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 2025 https:\/\/collections.vam.ac.uk\/item\/O13586\/purse-unknown\/<\/a><\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

\u2018The carryers of my body to the grave\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alongside the careful dispersal of his \u2018worldly goods\u2019, Liddell discussed his funeral plans in greater detail. The minister Mr Barnes would preach his funeral sermon, and \u00a31 was left for his troubles. He gave two shillings each to \u2018The carryers of my body to the grave\u2019 and, unusually, named the six men that he hoped would perform that duty. He left six shillings eight pence \u2018To the sexton\u2019, who would usually be tasked with grave-digging, but perhaps in this instance with opening the vault underneath the communion table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His concern for appropriate burial extended to his parish in life and death. He wished to leave \u2018to any hundred twenty poore people 6li<\/sup>\u2019 \u2013 a version of the traditional funeral dole for the poor. As mentioned in a previous blog post<\/a>, the local poor \u2018defined themselves by their willingness to accept\u2019 funeral doles.[4]<\/a> When I discussed this will with the project\u2019s Creative Fellow Chris Hoban, Chris pointed out that 120 was a biblically significant number. 120 was the age at which Moses died, and the number of years God waited for repentance before sending The Flood, during which time Noah built the Ark. There were 120 trumpeting priests at the dedication of Solomon\u2019s temple, and Acts 1:15 refers to a gathering of \u2018about an hundred and twenty\u2019 disciples in Jerusalem.[5]<\/a> In Liddell\u2019s gesture to the symbolism of 120 disciples, was he attempting to create a \u2018New Jerusalem\u2019 in his small parish in Wiltshire?[6]<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018the blacke cloath that Covers my body\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The concept of a \u2018New Jerusalem\u2019 was a popular idea amongst reforming Protestants in seventeenth-century England, associated with a utopia-style society of true believers that would come into being after Judgement Day. The process of making a will undoubtedly prompted pious individuals to meditate on judgement and resurrection, the fate of their body and soul, and their relationship to the community of believers. Liddell\u2019s final burial request was his most striking, stating: \u2018the blacke cloath that Covers my body to the grave I give to the parrish of Laycocke to be kept by the church=wardens thereof for the tyme being to be a Covering for the bodyes of gods people to their burialls as long as it will last\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n

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A pre-Reformation English hearse cloth<\/a>, owned by the Merchant Taylors\u2019 company. From<\/em> Wikimedia Commons.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

It was common for funeral palls to be owned by a community (such as guilds or worshipful companies). The photograph above depicts the hearse cloth used at funerals of members of the Merchant Taylors\u2019 company, one of the Greate Twelve Livery Companies of London. Liddell specified that his own black funeral pall should be donated and used as needed by other parishioners, specifically \u2018the bodyes of gods people\u2019. In positioning himself alongside fellow believers, this clause is also exclusionary and perhaps stood as an attack on those with Catholic leanings. When Chris Hoban read this will, he commented on the significance of the donated funeral pall being in use \u2018as long as it will last\u2019: perhaps denoting Liddell\u2019s reflection on the fact that all things decay, a contemplation upon human mortality, and the transience of both people and traditions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And soe I end to gods glory\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The conclusion of Liddell\u2019s will mirrored the pious language that opened it: \u2018And soe I end to gods glory\u2019. The legal document was concluded, as was, in due course, Liddell\u2019s own mortal life. Like many of the wills we are analysing as part of our study, this example is deeply intentional in its choice of language and bequests. Through the final document he left, we get the sense of a devout man who had thought carefully about the positioning of his body and soul within the sea of time. Musing on eternity and mortality, Liddell hoped to be laid to rest alongside his dear departed wife, he was reassured about the prospect of \u2018Joyfull resurrection\u2019, and his final offering to his parish \u2013 the hearse cloth, in all its ephemerality \u2013 was envisaged for the use of fellow believers for future generations, or at least, for as long as the gift would last.<\/p>\n\n\n