Tract
I will teach you my townspeople how to perform a funeral— for you have it over a troop of artists— unless one should scour the world— you have the ground sense necessary.
See! the hearse leads. I begin with a design for a hearse. For Christ’s sake not black— nor white either—and not polished! Let it be weathered—like a farm wagon— with gilt wheels (this could be applied fresh at small expense) or no wheels at all: a rough dray to drag over the ground.
Knock the glass out! My God—glass, my townspeople! For what purpose? Is it for the dead to look out or for us to see how well he is housed or to see the flowers or the lack of them— or what? To keep the rain and snow from him? He will have a heavier rain soon: pebbles and dirt and what not. Let there be no glass— and no upholstery phew! and no little brass rollers and small easy wheels on the bottom— my townspeople what are you thinking of?
A rough plain hearse then with gilt wheels and no top at all. On this the coffin lies by its own weight.
