A Silence-Inducing Death
Unfortunately, there is one kind of death that was shrouded in silence in 17th century England: suicide. And, it appears research surrounding suicide has also commanded silence: four hundred years of post-death commentary has failed to yield one serious researched comment about the possibility of suicide. Therefore, Shakespeare’s death can never be said to have been fully investigated until the possibility of suicide is researched – however unlikely – if only for the sake of completeness; nothing will likely come of it and at that point it can be ruled out. But until then, it can’t be ruled out by a grunt at hearing the notion of such a thought or a wave of an orthodox hand dismissing the conspiratorial.
The heretofore lack of research into suicide is true and somewhat baffling: true, because over the last few hundred years no research has been undertaken looking into suicide as a possible cause of death; baffling, considering how often Shakespeare wrote about suicide and how, more often than not, he positively portrayed suicide.[1] It is time for the investigation to tread down the most uncomfortable path imaginable: self-murder, the worst death of all.[2] O monstrous fault to harbour such a thought![3]
The Crime of Self-Murder
Sometimes, later researchers can’t re-word something better than how it was penned prior by previous researchers. And so it goes for the latest subheading: The Crime of Self-Murder. Which just so happens to be the title of chapter one in Sleepless Souls: Suicide in Early Modern England[4] writ almost 35 years prior to this research. It is a powerful chapter title; it says much, gets to the point relatively quickly and no amount of re-wording would yield it better. MacDonald and Murphy, it is clear, knew what they were doing when they chose those five words for their first chapter’s title; it is crucial, imperatively so, to understand suicide was a crime in 1616, a terrible crime against the king:[5] the crime of self-murder.
From the approximate beginning of the House of Tudor (1485-1603) to the middle of the Stuart period (1603-1714), around 1660, the law concerning the crime of self-murder and the enforcement thereof were notoriously hard on suicides and their families.[6] For perspective, the crime of self-murder in 1616 – the year of Shakespeare’s death – was prosecuted as rigorously as at any time in England’s history; 1616 falls in the middle of the war on suicide. Enforcement of the crime of self-murder was taken seriously: from approximately 1485 to 1660 95% of those accused of killing themselves were found guilty.[7] It was not a great time to be identified as a suicide nor, by extension, a great time to be a member of a suicide’s family in 1616.
In 17th century England it didn’t matter if the alleged perpetrator of the alleged crime of self-murder was dead; he or she was still put on trial for allegedly committing said crime. The fact there wasn’t a warm, living body in the prisoner’s dock mattered not: if you were successful at killing yourself, and identified as such, you would be put on trial – in absentia – for self-murder.
Self-murder, as with any crime, first, had to be identified as such; if the deceased was identified as a suicide the case would be presented to an inquest by the coroner; the ultimate finding of guilt or innocence was left to a jury of local men from the four surrounding townships.[8] However, a finding of guilt or innocence wasn’t so black and white in a self-murder trial; as with other criminal trials much rested on the accused’s state of mind. If the deceased, say, after a clear, identifiable case of hanging, was found to be of sane mind, the jury would return the guilty verdict known as felo de se – felon of him/herself. If the accused was found not to be of sound mind, the jury would return a not-guilty non compos mentis verdict: not in sane mind.[9]
But, make no mistake, if the crime of self-murder was found to have been committed by someone of sane mind – felo de se – a punitive sentence would follow. Because people – subjects – were basically thought of as chattels belonging to the monarch, to deprive the monarch of one of his chattel-subjects by way of an unnatural self-murder, some sort of penalty must be handed down. Not wanting to be a subject of the king or queen, and ending that voluntarily, was seen as a stain on the monarch’s reputation. Or, as John Donne put it, “the king hath lost a subject [and] that his peace is broken”[10] and because it was murder qua murder, without qualification, the suicide crime warranted a penalty.
How would a guilty dead person pay recompense to the wronged monarch? In short, the family would stand in the criminal’s stead and receive the sentence: seizure, confiscation and forfeiture to the crown of all the deceased’s estate – an absolutely devastating sentence passed onto the suicide’s family. The forfeiture to the crown included houses, land, leases the deceased owned over that land, moveable chattels, money, debts owed to them – anything forming part of the deceased’s estate.[11] Adding insult to injury, forfeiture of entire estates was just the fallout for committing a crime against the king; unfortunately, that was only the first, not the last, of their worries.
A Sin Against God
To suicide was a sin against God.[12] Like the king, God too, demanded a penalty. Self-murderers, wealthy or not, had much to forfeit to God. This was so because, at its root cause, self-murder was seen as the work of the devil.[13]
During this era the act of suicide was possibly considered the gravest sin a Christian could commit in the eyes of the church[14] and, notwithstanding all suicides are not created equal, demanded punishment. This sort of punishment – church punishment – was spiritually crippling. A Satan-inspired suicide, as can be imagined, would bring shame to the family and swift punishment to the deceased far more serious than other forgivable Christian sins.
On balance, the corpse of a suicide – great during life or no – was now thought of as polluted[15] and therefore would be proclaimed, and treated, as such.[16] After a proclamation the deceased was a suicide, and thus polluted, the Church treatment unfolded.
First up, suicides were denied mourning[17] – the first feature of getting Christian death-rites under way. This deprived the family of proper Christian grieving but also deprived the deceased of prayers and intercessions on their behalf. Subsequently, the polluted corpse of the suicide was often denied any sort of Christian mass celebration,[18] i.e., no funeral – the second religious act of sending the person’s soul into God’s care. The funeral prohibition – the denial of a church-sanctioned celebration thus relegating the suicide’s soul to destination-less wandering in the afterlife – like lack of mourning, heaped more despair onto the family and without clerical assent at a funeral, the departed soul would not be admitted into heaven.[19] After no mourning permitted and no funeral mass observed next up would often be the denial of a burial on consecrated church ground; ‘profane’ burials occurred at night, outside the village or town boundaries, at a highway or crossroads, in a shallow grave, with a stake driven through their heart.[20] These desecration burials could be modified or relaxed, depending on the situation, resulting in reduced Christian rites – neither the full denial of death rites nor the full standard Christian package.[21] Shakespeare referred to reduced Christian rites as maimed rites.[22]
From the first – mourning rites – to the middle – funeral rites – to the end – burial rites – suicides were shunned from and, in the worst cases, fully denied Christian death customs and blessings notwithstanding some rites could be arranged including burial on church property.
Practical Result Of A Felo De Se Verdict And ‘Polluted’ Proclamation
In 1616, if a deceased was identified as a suicide and convicted of self-murder the fallout for the family was crushing; it having to bear the full weight of the state’s criminal penalty: financial ruin potentially manifesting in poverty, homelessness. Should the church proclaim the corpse polluted the deceased’s soul became subject to the full wrath of the church: no mourning, no funeral service and no – or partial – Christian burial rites.
What Are Family, Friends And Colleagues To Do?
Stay silent. Very silent. Or, lie. Adamantly.
The Cover Up By Everybody
The main goal would be to ensure the suicide of a family member didn’t even get to the inquest stage; better to head it off at the pass. If a family was beset with a successful suicide staying silent was their first course of action; if they had to say something, perhaps the following would be offered: “ah, yes, Uncle John slipped and fell last night; his awkward landing position, on his bed, while carrying a butcher knife, alas, pierced his heart. No, no, it wasn’t strange for him at all to take a small sword or the like to bed with him, afraid of burglars, you know. Poor troubled soul, terrified of the dark, too, so he was. And drink? Big John was given to drink far too much; became unsteady on his feet, you know. Mostly sack.” Hopefully, with that story circulating, the whole coroner’s inquest thing could be avoided and Uncle’s John’s death could be conveniently and neatly classified as a truly unfortunate slip and fall, alas; Aunt Nell could get on with planning the burial. Quickly.
Obviously, the pretend example of Uncle John and Aunt Nell was just that, a pretend example. But it’s dead-on accurate because “from the moment of the discovery of a dead body, the relatives, friends and neighbours of the deceased played a key role in determining whether or not a death had been a suicide.”[23] Entire communities – the family, friends and neighbours – rallied the troops in order to conceal suicides from royal officials.[24] If Uncle John was found with a small sword in his chest it behooved the family, friends and locals to remove it and stay silent. Or, lie. By staying silent or lying, families had everything to gain, nothing to lose; if they told the truth they had everything to lose, nothing to gain.
In light of the foregoing, it is clear death notices weren’t sent out by families noting suicide as the cause of death. For Aunt Nell to publicize in 1616 – by any means – Uncle John died by suicide would be unthinkable; for a friend or professional colleague to write something for public consumption contemporaneously therewith was likewise.
Though avoiding an inquest would be the optimal outcome if one couldn’t be avoided the family and witnesses at the hearing at least had a second chance to evade a forfeiture order by trying to persuade the jury the death was either accidental or the deceased was not of sane mind.[25]
A few more Investigative Findings can be made:
IF – A family in 17th century England would try to ensure nobody knew the truth if a family member committed suicide. They would stay silent or lie about the true cause of death because if word got out a coroner’s inquest might ensue.
IF – If a coroner’s inquest couldn’t be avoided, family and friends did everything in their power to persuade the jury to rule the death was not a suicide or, if it was ruled self-murder, make a finding of non compos mentis.
IF – A finding of felo de se against the deceased was financially ruinous for the family; a well-to-do family could be reduced to poverty in an instant.
IF – Suicides were denied varying degrees of Christian mourning, funeral and burial rites; Shakespeare called these lesser suicide-death rites maimed rites. Sometimes, depending on varying circumstances, the harshest of the penalties could be attenuated, including ‘arranging’ burials on church property.
Given the silence surrounding Shakespeare’s death and the silence surrounding a death by suicide perhaps it’s time for a closer look at things.
SDRP
[1] In 17 works, Shakespeare discusses suicide or has actual suicide deaths: Richard III, Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, King John, Much Ado About Nothing, Julius Caesar, Hamlet, Othello, Timon of Athens, All’s Well That Ends Well, King Lear, MacBeth, Antony and Cleopatra, Cymbeline, The Two Noble Kinsmen, Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece. In 11 of those 17 works Shakespeare has 20 identifiable characters commit suicide and one make a whole-hearted attempt; one or two more are possible, but uncertain. Some were historical suicides; some were of Shakespeare’s creation. In the remaining 6 works, no suicides occur but there is dialogue – to some degree – discussing suicide. That’s not an insignificant amount of successful suicides and accompanying dialogue.
[2] Houlbrooke, Death, Religion, 26.
[3] King Henry VI Part 3, 3.2.164, 682.
[4] Michael MacDonald and Terence Murphy, Sleepless Souls: Suicide in Early Modern England (Oxford University Press, 1990), 15.
[5] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 15.
[6] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 16.
[7] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 16.
[8] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 23.
[9] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 16.
[10] John Donne, Biathanatos: A Declaration of that Paradox or Thesis that Self-Homicide is not so Naturally Sin that it may never be otherwise (Humphrey Moseley, 1648). In J. William Hebel, ed., John Donne: Biathanatos (The Facsimile Society, 1930), 90.
[11] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 15.
[12] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 15.
[13] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, Ch.2 throughout.
[14] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 43.
[15] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 42.
[16] Shakespeare specifically addresses the concept of a polluted corpse and whether a suicide should, in fact, be viewed as polluted and treated as such: Hamlet, 5.1.212-234, 1066-1067.
[17] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 47.
[18] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 19, 49.
[19] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 47.
[20] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 15, 19, 47-49; Norman, History of Death, 131. In typical brilliant fashion, Shakespeare compares virgins to self-murderers and, because both offend against nature, both deserve burial at the highway and ‘out of all sanctified limit’: All’s Well That End’s Well, 1.1. 131-134, 317.
[21] Macdonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 15, 48-49, 49n.
[22] Hamlet, 5.1.213, 1066.
[23] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 223-224.
[24] Alexandra Mary Lord, “Four Perceptions of Suicide in Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Century England” (Dissertations, Theses and Masters Projects, William & Mary, Paper 1539625619, 1990), 82.
[25] MacDonald and Murphy, Sleepless Souls, 78-79.