The turn of each comes for its daily reception of dead
bodies. Among the troops in the town, there are usually some
Swiss: more or less. When any of these die, they are buried out
of a fund maintained by such of their countrymen as are resident in
Genoa. Their providing coffins for these men is matter of great
astonishment to the authorities.
Certainly, the effect of this promiscuous and indecent splashing
down of dead people in so many wells, is bad. It surrounds Death
with revolting associations, that insensibly become connected with
those whom Death is approaching. Indifference and avoidance are
the natural result; and all the softening influences of the great
sorrow are harshly disturbed.
There is a ceremony when an old Cavaliere or the like, expires, of
erecting a pile of benches in the cathedral, to represent his bier;
covering them over with a pall of black velvet; putting his hat and
sword on the top; making a little square of seats about the whole;
and sending out formal invitations to his friends and acquaintances
to come and sit there, and hear Mass: which is performed at the
principal Altar, decorated with an infinity of candles for that
purpose.
When the better kind of people die, or are at the point of death,
their nearest relations generally walk off:
