The rituals related to death are fascinating in their meaning and symbolism. Catherine Tabone writes about Frans Ciappara’s recent talk about the myths surrounding the subject.
“Everyone will admit that the art of dying well is the most important of all the arts,” writes St Robert Bellarmine in the preface to his De Arte Bene Moriendi, published in the second decade of the 17th century.
Yet, how is a good death ensured? What are the necessary steps and measures that, taken during one’s lifetime, assist the soul’s safe passage to heaven? What are the ways, if any, that ascertain as short a stay as possible in the flames of purgatory?
These are a few of the questions explored by Frans Ciappara, from the University of Malta’s International Institute of Baroque Studies, during a well-attended public lecture recently delivered at the Inquisitor’s Palace in Vittoriosa, which was introduced by the director of the Institute, Denis De Lucca.
Based on a variety of local sources – namely wills, petition registers at the ecclesiastical court and pious dispositions dictated in extremis – dating from 1750 to 1797, Ciappara’s research took the audience on a journey in time that commenced at the bedside of the moribund and ended six feet under.
In a context where death was only too familiar, with three people dying each day in Valletta, and over 67 burials per year being registered in Naxxar, existence took the form of a continuous preparation for death. The extent to which the art of dying had actually become the art of living is clearly visible in the precautions people took to ensure their salvation.
To quote three examples, as the end quickly approached for Simone Spiteri from Siġġiewi, for Giuseppe Bezzina of Naxxar, for Lucretia Magro of Gudja, and for their contemporaries, a carefully planned insurance against hellfire clearly emerged.
Wills and pious dispositions (the latter being the poor man’s version of the former) played a major part in establishing the spiritual wishes of their testators. A constant concern with easing the soul’s passage and with preparing spiritually and emotionally for life everlasting is clearly discernible in the preamble of such documents, which invariably included an invocation to God, the Blessed Virgin or the saints.
These were more than mere legal documents for the recognition of the testator’s state of belongings and the disposal of property. Rather, they served to describe the decisions that had to be taken to assure the salvation of the soul and the repose of the body.
Generally, these included a number of suffrages, namely the distribution of alms. Recipients were, in turn, bound to pray for the soul of the benefactor and sometimes also fast on bread and water.
Offerings to saints, such as candles, jewellery or monetary bequests for the decoration of altars were also customary in hope of acquiring the respective saint’s holy patronage.
Masses – at times in perpetuum – on the anniversary of death and other special days, such as liturgical feasts and All Souls Day, were also said for the repose of the testator’s soul. Where possible, burial in a favourable spot – such as near the high altar, in the choir, in front of the Marian chapel, near the church door or close to holy water fonts – was also planned for.
Individual efforts were made to secure a place in heaven built on the framework of salvation provided by the Church, which made available the means by which to defy the devil throughout one’s life and during the last moments.
Spiritual exercises, known as santi esercizi della buona morte, were organised to prepare participants for the final struggle. Defences against the legions of hell were then reinforced in extremis through confession, communion, the viaticum and extreme unction.
Moreover, in addition to Masses said specifically for a bonu transitu, the holy sacrament was displayed for the same purpose and a priest regularly visited the deathbed to comfort its occupant with readings from scripture, the litany of the saints and intercessory prayers.
When the fatally ill expired, the office of the dead was recited and the cadaver was placed in a wooden coffin holding a crucifix and wearing a scapular.
The funeral itself, arrangements for which were at times meticulously laid out in the will itself, was in most cases a simple enough affair, consisting of Mass, followed by the Libera, and a procession to the cemetery. While it was commonplace for priests and confraternity members to accompany the coffin, in some instances additional clergy were recruited from nearby parishes as per instructions laid out in the will. Burial mostly took place in the church, where prime locations were commonly occupied by the better off.
Undoubtedly, bearing in mind all of the above, the art of dying well had been mastered to its highest degrees of excellence in baroque Malta. Being a history graduate with an interest in local attitudes towards death, I found Ciappara’s detailed exposition leading to this conclusion both instructive and compelling.
His research does not only shed light on the various religious precautions taken to ensure a good death, but also provides outstanding testimony to a strong concern with posterity.
While it is apparent that the poor died for themselves only, in the sense that society was not disturbed by their demise and their memory was lost after the death of their closest friends and next of kin, Ciappara’s research highlights an omnipresent fear of obliteration. This is rendered manifest in measures that sought at once to ensure both the salvation of the soul and the perpetuation of memory.
Furthermore, to anyone familiar with the certainly more elaborate funerary ceremonies reserved for the higher echelons of the island’s society at the time, Ciappara’s research brings the difference to the fore.
In baroque Malta, death was certainly not ‘the great leveller’. The extent to which various individuals were in a position to procure a suitable insurance against eternal damnation and the annihilation of their memory differed considerably, and ultimately depended on the material means in their possession.
Frans Ciappara was accompanied by David Ellul, who provided short musical interludes on the violoncello, consisting of excerpts by Vivaldi, Schubert and Grieg related to the theme. The event was organised by the International Institute of Baroque Studies at the University of Malta in collaboration with Heritage Malta.