Military funeral in Great Britain 19th century. Ritual paraphernalia of the Victorian era

DARK

Happy were the inhabitants of those countries
Where the torches of volcanoes blazed...
The whole world lived with one timid hope...
The forests were set on fire; but with every passing hour
And the burnt forest fell; trees
Suddenly, with a formidable crash, they collapsed ...
And faces - with uneven flutter
Last fading lights
Seemed unearthly... Who lay,
Closing his eyes, he cried; who was sitting
Supporting his hands, he smiled;
Others bustled about
Around the fires - and in a crazy horror
Looked vaguely at the deaf sky,
The lands of the lost shroud... and then
With curses they threw themselves into the dust and howled,
They gnashed their teeth. Birds with a cry
Worn low above the ground, waving
Unnecessary wings... Even animals
They fled in timid herds ... Snakes
They crawled, twisted among the crowd, hissed,
Harmless... They were killed by people
For food ... The war broke out again,
Extinguished for a while ... Bought by blood
A piece was each; everyone aside
He sat gloomily, sated in the darkness.
Love is gone; the whole earth is full
Was just one thought: death - death
Inglorious, inevitable... Terrible hunger
He tormented people... And people died quickly...
But there was no grave for bones,
Not a body... Devoured the skeleton of a skeleton...
And even the dogs of the owners were torn apart.
Only one dog remained faithful to the corpse,
Beasts, hungry people drove away -
While other corpses attracted
Their teeth are greedy... But the food itself
did not accept; with a dull long groan
And with a quick, sad cry licked everything
He is a hand, unrequited for affection,
And he died at last... So gradually
Famine destroyed them all; only two citizens
Lush capitals - once enemies -
Left alive ... They met
At the fading remnants of the altar,
Where a lot of things were collected
Saints. . . . . . . . . . .
Cold bony hands
Trembling, dug up the ashes... Light
Under their weak breath flared weakly,
As if to mock them; when did it become
Lighter, both raised their eyes,
Looked, screamed and then together
From mutual horror suddenly
Dropped dead. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . And the world was empty;
That crowded world, mighty world
Was a dead mass, without grass, trees
Without life, time, people, movement...
That was the chaos of death. Lakes, rivers
And the sea is quiet. Nothing
It did not stir in the silent abyss.
Ships lay deserted
And rotted on motionless, sleepy moisture...
Without noise, the masts fell in parts
And, falling, the waves did not revolt...
The seas have not known the tides for a long time ...
Their mistress, the moon, perished;
The winds withered in the silent air...
Clouds disappeared... Darkness didn't need
Their help... she was everywhere...

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish "d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires--and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings - the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other "s face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain "d;
Forests were set on fire - but hour by hour
They fell and faded - and the crackling trunks
Extinguish "d with a crash - and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash "d their teeth and howl" d: the wild birds shriek "d,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl"d
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless - they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again; - a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought--and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails - men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assail "d their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish "d men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress - he died.
The crowd was familiar "d by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap "d a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other "s aspects - saw, and shriek" d, and died -
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was empty
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless -
A lump of death--a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp"d
They slept on the abyss without a surge -
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon their mistress had expir "d before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish "d; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them - She was the Universe.

George Noel Gordon Byron
DARK

I had a dream... Not everything in it was a dream.
The bright sun went out, and the stars
Wandering aimlessly, without rays
In space eternal; icy ground
Worn blindly in the moonless air.
The hour of the morning came and went,
But he did not bring the day after him ...
And people - in the horror of the great misfortune
Forgotten passions... Hearts
In one selfish prayer
About the light timidly shrank - and froze.
People lived in front of the fires; thrones,
Palaces of crowned kings, huts,
The dwellings of all those who have dwellings -
The fires were built ... the cities were burning ...
And people flocked
Around the burning houses - then,
For once to look into each other's eyes.
Happy were the inhabitants of those countries
Where the torches of volcanoes blazed...
The whole world lived with one timid hope...
The forests were set on fire; but with every passing hour
And the burnt forest fell; trees
Suddenly, with a formidable crash, they collapsed ...
And faces - with uneven flutter
Last fading lights
Seemed unearthly... Who lay,
Closing his eyes, he cried; who was sitting
Supporting his hands, he smiled;
Others bustled about
Around the fires - and in a crazy horror
Looked vaguely at the deaf sky,
The lands of the lost shroud... and then
With curses they threw themselves into the dust and howled,
They gnashed their teeth. Birds with a cry
Worn low above the ground, waving
Unnecessary wings... Even animals
They fled in timid herds ... Snakes
They crawled, twisted among the crowd, hissed,
Harmless... They were killed by people
For food ... The war broke out again,
Extinguished for a while ... Bought by blood
A piece was each; everyone aside
He sat gloomily, sated in the darkness.
Love is gone; the whole earth is full
Was just one thought: death - death
Inglorious, inevitable... Terrible hunger
He tormented people... And people died quickly...
But there was no grave for bones,
Not a body... Devoured the skeleton of a skeleton...
And even the dogs of the owners were torn apart.
Only one dog remained faithful to the corpse,
Beasts, hungry people drove away -
While other corpses attracted
Their teeth are greedy... But the food itself
did not accept; with a dull long groan
And with a quick, sad cry licked everything
He is a hand, unrequited for affection,
And he died at last... So gradually
Famine destroyed them all; only two citizens
Lush capitals - once enemies -
Left alive ... They met
At the fading remnants of the altar,
Where a lot of things were collected
Saints. . . . . . . . . . .
Cold bony hands
Trembling, dug up the ashes... Light
Under their weak breath flared weakly,
As if to mock them; when did it become
Lighter, both raised their eyes,
Looked, screamed and then together
From mutual horror suddenly
Dropped dead. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . And the world was empty;
That crowded world, mighty world
Was a dead mass, without grass, trees
Without life, time, people, movement...
That was the chaos of death. Lakes, rivers
And the sea is quiet. Nothing
It did not stir in the silent abyss.
Ships lay deserted
And rotted on motionless, sleepy moisture...
Without noise, the masts fell in parts
And, falling, the waves did not revolt...
The seas have not known the tides for a long time ...
Their mistress, the moon, perished;
The winds withered in the silent air...
Clouds disappeared... Darkness didn't need
Their help... she was everywhere...

S. L. Sukharev. Byron's Darkness Poem
Sergei Sukharev
S.L. SUKHAREV

BYRON'S POEM "DARKNESS" IN RUSSIAN TRANSLATIONS

The poem "Darkness", written by Byron in July 1816 in Switzerland, is one of the most famous lyrical works of the poet. For Russian translators, it has long had a special attraction: the first translations appeared in St. Petersburg magazines at the beginning of 1822, two new translations were published in the year of the poet's 200th birthday. In total, according to our data, 25 translations have been published - an unprecedented figure for Russian translations of Byron's lyrics.

(43) To demonstrate a possible translation solution (of course, not in the least claiming to be final), we offer a previously unpublished translation made by the author of the article (together with Svetlana Shik):

Dark
I had a dream - it wasn't just a dream.
The sun went out, the stars dimmed,
Wandering in the eternal space without a road;
And the icy, black Earth
Wandered blindly in the moonless air;
The day came without dawn;
And ousted human passions horror
Before the desolation of the world - cooled
Hearts in prayer, self-seeking prayer.
Huddled around the guard fires:
Kings crowned thrones and halls,
The huts of the poor are every dwelling
Went into the fire; cities were burned
And people aspired to the fiery pillars -
Just once more to look into each other's faces;
Happy was he who lived near volcanoes -
By the light of mountain torches; one
Hope timid world existed.
They set fire to the forests - and hourly with noise
The charred trees collapsed
And the blackness came again;
Intermittent flashes at times
People's faces dimly lit up,
Giving them an otherworldly look:
Others lay prone by the fire
And wept; others, leaning
On clasped hands, smiled;
Others collected fussily
The wreckage on your funeral pyre,
Casting glances with wild concern
To the firmament - the former world shrouds;
And they threw themselves into the dust, gnashing their teeth
And spewing terrible curses;
And on the ground disturbed birds
Powerless wings beat in vain;
And the predators came with humility
Seek protection; the snakes crawled
Curling into rings in the midst of the crowd,
Hissed, but did not sting - for food
They were killed; and again the war,
Forgotten, she resumed her feast:
The piece began to be extracted with blood; each,
Hiding in the darkness, greedily sated;
Love is gone; thought alone reigned
About death - a quick and inglorious death.
Womb hunger gnawed, pestilence began,
But the dead did not find graves:
Gnawed skinny skinny, and dogs
They threw themselves at the owners; only one
Growling, the cold corpse guarded
From greedy jaws - and with a long howl
He licked his unrequited hand,
Squealed desperately, barked angrily,
Forgetting about food - weakened and fell silent.
So gradually everyone died ... Two
Residents left in the huge city:
Enemies sworn, at the altar
They converged over the sacred utensils,
What has served the purposes of the wicked;
Warm ashes with bony hands
Disturbed - and with a weak movement
Fanned the spark: as if in mockery
The flame flashed, for a moment
Their eyes met - and then, screaming
Terrified, they both fell
Struck by mutual disgrace;
And they never knew who it was
On whose brow cruel hunger brought
Nickname: Enemy ... The world is empty: mighty
And the crowded world became a dead lump
Without herbs, trees, without sun, without people -
Lifeless and frozen lump of dust.
Lakes, rivers and seas are frozen
Silence reigned in their depths;
Abandoned rot ships;
The masts heeled - their fragments, collapsing,
They did not disturb the immovable abyss;
The tides have settled in the tomb;
Their mistress Luna has disappeared;
Winds withered in motionless air;
There were no clouds, but there was no need for them -
And the whole universe was covered by darkness.
(44) For lack of space, we confine ourselves to pointing to the following translations: Darkness: From Byron // Morning (Literary and political collection published by M. Pogodin). M.: 1866. pp. 240-242. Signature: SM. (according to our assumptions, the author of this translation - clearly amateurish - could be Stepan Alekseevich Maslov); Gloom // Full collection. op. Lord Byron (Monthly lit. supplement to the magazine "Picturesque Review"). St. Petersburg: 1894. T. 6.S. 222-223; Same: Lord Byron. Full coll. op. Kyiv; St. Petersburg; Kharkov: 1904. Stlb. 535-536 (prose translation by K. Humbert,
A. Bogaevskaya and Stalka); Darkness: (Byron) // Ellis. Immorteli. Issue. 2. M., 1904. S. 154-156. The same: Reader-reciter. T.2. Kyiv: 1905. S. 25-28.

- In the book: The Great Romantic: Byron and world literature[Collection of articles].
M.: Nauka, 1991. S.221-236.

From the book: Couty E., Harsa N. Superstitions of Victorian England. M.: Tsentrpoligraf, 2012.

The lady has a mournful crew
With six horses.
The lady has a black hound,
running in front of her.
On the crew black crepe
And a headless coachman
And shed the lady's dress
Grave moss pattern.
"Please," the lady says,
My share the way!”
But I'm better off walking
I'll get there sometime.
In the night, the sound of wheels is not heard,
The creak of the hubs does not whine,
Silently the crew floats
Under the measured brilliance of lightning.

"Please," the lady says,
Come with me!”
Taking a child from the cradle
Carries him with him.
"Please," the lady says,
I will speed up your path."
Bride pale as snow
Puts in the crew.
"Please," the lady says,
The carriage is waiting for you."
And a noble squire in the crew
How cute will rise.
"Please," the lady says,
Let's go faster."
And here's an old man on crutches
Scrambles towards her.
It's better to stomp a hundred miles
Or run away
Than, having met this crew,
See the lady in it.
"Please, sit down here,
Without saying a word!
There's enough room for you too
And for all living things!

("Lady Howard")

The heroine of this ballad is Lady Mary Howard, the famous ghost of Dartmoor. It is said that it was her story and the black dog that captured the imagination of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle so much that he gave the world the Hound of the Baskervilles. However, Sir Arthur did not meet with the ghost carriage, but took the word of a friend. Otherwise, how do you know what would happen to famous writer. After all, this meeting does not bode well for passers-by, except for a quick and painless death. According to legend, Lady Howard lived at the beginning of the 16th century and, being a rich bride, changed four husbands in turn. They all died so quickly that only in the fourth marriage did Mary manage to give birth to a child. But her son did not live long either, although Lady Howard herself died at the respectable age of 75. After her death, God punished her by the fact that every night in a carriage of her bones ex-husbands(four skulls adorn the four corners of the carriage) Lady Howard travels 30 miles from her home in Tavistock to Oakhampton Castle and back. A diabolical black dog with red eyes and terrible fangs runs in front of the carriage, and a headless coachman sits on the box. If the carriage stops near someone's house, the resident will soon die.

Although the historical Lady Howard was not a villain at all, had several children, and merely divorced her abusive fourth husband, reverting to the name Howard, taken from her third marriage, people on Dartmoor still believe that the dry clatter of bones heard on the road at night, heralds a quick death. We will have to find out how, from the point of view of the Victorians, death looked like, what signs testified to its approach, and what traditions surrounded it.

Harbingers of death

Like many Germanic peoples, death among the English is most often represented by a man, not a woman. This is the Grim Reaper, a skeleton in dark clothes and with a scythe in his hands. He may pay visits on foot, but more often he rides a horse. The image of Death in the saddle was influenced by the verse from Revelation 6:8, which mentions "a pale horse, and on it is a rider whose name is death." The Grim Reaper is not without a peculiar charm and often enters into disputes with his "clients", and sometimes surrenders in response to their arguments.

Many believed in the so-called "candles of the dead" - blue lights in the air, the appearance of which foreshadowed an imminent death in the area. They lit up over the place where the grave would be dug, or over the surface of the water, if someone soon drowned. The Welsh believed that this sign was given to them by Saint David, the patron saint of Wales. The saint prayed that his flock could learn in advance about the approach of death and adequately prepare for the transition to another world. So the Lord lit special candles for them. The size of the ghostly light indicated the age of the future deceased. If a child is destined to die, the light will be tiny, but an adult can count on a more impressive illumination.

A mesmerizing, if unpleasant, sight was the ghostly funeral. AT early XIX centuries in Wales, it was believed that a real funeral was preceded by a ghostly rehearsal: you can hear how a disembodied carpenter drives nails into a coffin or a priest reads a sermon. Next to them, the spirits of those who will attend the wake raise their glasses and partake of ghostly food. Someone believed that such visions are available to all people, but especially to those whose windows overlook the cemetery. Then you can admire the ghostly processions at least every night. Others assured that only clairvoyants could see the ghostly funeral. A similar phenomenon was described by the inhabitants of the Isle of Man. Some swore that a ghostly procession might overtake a passerby on a deserted road and place a funeral stretcher on his shoulder. However, meeting with a real funeral procession also did not bode well. At the beginning of the 19th century, a superstitious lady from Hertfordshire became famous for grabbing a set of pins on the road in case of meeting with a funeral procession. She threw pins from the carriage window to ward off trouble.

The ability to predict the time of one's own or someone else's death was associated with clairvoyance, a gift that popular rumor endowed the Scottish Highlanders. In the XVII-XVIII centuries, not only folklorists, but also pundits were seriously studying this phenomenon. The Scots themselves valued clairvoyance as a national treasure that set them apart from the British. At the same time, the question arose about the transmission of clairvoyance by inheritance, because the children of many seers were completely deprived of this gift. According to the general opinion, not every highlander is a seer, but any seer necessarily had Scottish roots. They were proud of the gift of clairvoyance, although it brought sorrow rather than joy. The Seer knew exactly when he or someone close to him would have to depart to another world. Shortly before his death, he saw his double wrapped in a shroud. Dante Gabriel Rossetti's famous drawing How They Met Themselves, which depicts a pair of lovers facing each other in the woods as if they were their reflection in a mirror, illustrates precisely this belief. The lady faints because she learned a bad omen.

Throughout England, a supernatural double, the meeting with which foreshadowed death, was called "fetch". The Yorkshiremen called him "waff" and swore that death could be avoided if they cursed him properly. One Yorkshireman stumbled upon his double in a grocery store and attacked him with threats: “What are you doing here? Well, get out of the way, hello! Get out, whoever they say! The ashamed wuff trudged away and no longer annoyed the brave man.

The most famous harbinger of death in the British Isles is, of course, the Irish banshee. She appears as a young girl with long hair and a gray cloak over a green dress, and an ugly old woman, but also long-haired. Banshees can be found at the stream, where she rinses the bloody clothes of people doomed to death. The main thing is not to ask her to wash your shirt, otherwise the offended banshee will strangle you in no time. In another, more famous version of the legend, a banshee wanders near the house of the future deceased and with his cry notifies him of his imminent death. However, most Victorians hardly heard or expected to hear the banshee's howls. The fact is that the banshee "serves" only representatives of the ancient Irish and Scottish families. Less well-born gentlemen, she simply ignores.

People liked to laugh at those who attached excessive importance to gloomy omens. And the superstitious gentlemen themselves then laughed heartily - still, such a burden as their own funeral fell from the soul. They told, for example, how a certain pastor was walking from a farm where he taught children the catechism. On the way, he was caught by a ringing coming from nowhere. The ringing followed him for several miles, so that the pastor returned home in a despondent mood. The ghostly ringing always foreshadowed death, and the pastor, although he was a Christian, folk omens also did not hesitate. But what was his joy when, throwing off his coat, he saw that a bell had rolled out of his pocket. A few hours ago, a swarm of bees arose on the farm, and the guest of honor was asked to reason with the insects by ringing. In the confusion, the pastor completely forgot where he put the bell, so he mistook its jingling for the ominous chime of death.

Encounter with the spirit of a deceased relative

People preferred to die at home, in the family circle. Preparations for death usually did not take much time. Settling matters, writing a will is the lot of the upper classes. It was easier for the poor - the main thing is to go to bed correctly. According to the then prevailing sign, if the bed is not parallel to the floorboards, but crosses them, then the person lying on it will die long and painfully. The same thing will happen if pigeon feathers are in the pillow or feather bed. The last sign partially explains the method of euthanasia, when a pillow was removed from under the patient's head, thereby making it difficult to breathe and hastening the onset of death. No pillow - no harmful feathers. In order not to experience the delicacy of Death, it was necessary to immediately place both the bed and the dying person correctly. Then the soul will quickly part with the body, leaving relatives to take care of the mortal remains.

Although Christianity does not encourage excessive concern for the dead body, already deprived of grace after the separation of the soul, for the Victorians, who saw death quite often, it was important to correctly guide the deceased so as not to inadvertently lure new death. First of all, the eyes of the deceased were closed, otherwise the dead man will look out for which of the family members will die next. On the eyes ancient tradition put coins. Preparing the body for burial, they washed it, tied a chin with a scarf, and combed their hair. It was purely women's work, and women were proud of it. Neighbors or relatives came to help the widow.

Mirrors were always hung in the room of the deceased. It was believed that if you look in this mirror, you will see a dead man behind you. Immediately after someone's death, a window should be opened so that the soul could fly off to another world. It was also necessary to keep the doors wide open during the funeral, until the funeral procession returned from the cemetery. Only in this way could the family avoid another death in the near future. So that in the absence of the owners nothing was stolen from the house, one of the relatives was left to guard the good. Under the bed on which the deceased lay, they put a bowl of cold water so that the cadaverous smell goes into the water. As a symbol of the frailty of all things, a plate with salt and earth was placed on the belly of the deceased. In addition to the symbolic, this act also had a more mundane meaning: many believed that a loaded plate would prevent air from entering the insides and the corpse would not swell.

In some counties, though very rarely, the unappetizing ritual of sin-eating was practiced. Usually beggar old women acted as eaters. In rural society, they occupied the position of "untouchables" - fellow villagers did not communicate with them unless absolutely necessary. In 1870, a teacher from Norfolk described a “sin-eater” she knew as follows: “Once she drank poppy-seed tea to the point of unconsciousness. The worried neighbor ran after the pastor, and he came to the conclusion that human help in this case was already useless, and fulfilled his duty by reading prayers over her and releasing her sins ... Little by little, the dope dissipated, but when the old woman got up, the neighbor reported that henceforth she is dead in the eyes of the church. All her sins are forgiven, and since now she does not exist for the world, she will not be able to sin again. Since then, she began to earn a living as a sin eater. During the funeral, the sin-eater ate a piece of bread and salt from the plate, symbolically taking on the sins of the deceased. In the East of England, she received 30 pennies as payment for her work. Folklorists of the second half of the 19th century were skeptical of references to the ritual "eating of sin" and especially of attempts to connect this ritual with the ancient practice of cannibalism. It is generally accepted that if the profession of a “sin eater” was still encountered in the 17th-18th centuries, it disappeared in the 19th century. On the other hand, in many villages it was claimed that every drop of wine drunk at the wake corresponded to the sin of the deceased. So pious guests leaned on alcohol in order to facilitate the afterlife of the deceased.

While the deceased was still not completely numb, relatives sought to perpetuate his memory in photographs. This custom was prevalent primarily among the English middle class. London "Brown and Son" or Mr. Flemons from Tonbridge (Kent), as well as many other photo studios, were engaged in the manufacture of the so-called carte-de-visite - post-mortem. These were posthumous photographs, printed in several copies and framed in cardboard passe-partout, sometimes even with gold stamping. In memory of the deceased, they were given to relatives and family friends.

Undoubtedly, post-mortem photographs originate from post-mortem portraits, enamel miniatures, and sculptures commissioned in previous centuries to commemorate the dead. Unlike traditional forms of art, where the artist and sculptor acted as intermediaries between objective reality and the ideal world, photography was accurate and impartial, allowing the image of the deceased to be captured to the smallest detail. But here, too, tradition played its part. Since the 50s of the 19th century, when photographers switched from expensive daguerreotypes to cheaper methods of shooting, postmortem photography has become a special, sought-after genre. Since artists, even making a posthumous portrait, depicted living people on their canvases, photographers also tried to capture the deceased as if he were still alive - sitting or standing, with open eyes, sometimes surrounded by living relatives, including small children. In extreme cases, give the face of the deceased the look of a serene sleep, and supplement the photo with mourning symbols: withered flowers, garlands and crosses. Deceased children were often photographed with toys or in the arms of grieving parents. Since infant mortality was very high, it is children who can most often be seen in post-mortem photographs. Sometimes it became the only chance to save the memory of the child. During the life of children, sometimes they did not have time to photograph, because in those days it was necessary to pose for a photographer for a long time while maintaining immobility. And how to make a five-six-year-old egoza sit straight, frozen in one position?

Another noticeable trend in post-mortem photography is to capture the dead in magnificently decorated coffins, in the most beautiful lace shrouds, so that it becomes clear that a person has already joined the host of heavenly angels and will no longer return to the abode of suffering. Beautiful shrouds were themselves a feature of Victorian funerals. In the 17th century, to support the English wool-spinning industry, an Act of Parliament was passed requiring that all the dead, except for beggars and victims of the plague, be buried in woolen shrouds. As time went on, the law began to be ignored everywhere, and in 1814 it was finally abolished. Under the influence of romanticism, death began to be perceived as a solemn moment of the soul's transition to eternity, so that it also required special attire. The deceased, of course, could be dressed in everyday clothes, but it became customary to bury virgins and children in robes of the color of purity and sinlessness, light as the wings of angels.

You could buy a shroud in the undertaker's shop. Ready-made shrouds were sewn from cheap fabrics and decorated with paper frills, however, some women were smart and prepared their own shroud in advance, more solid, so that it would not be embarrassing to appear in front of people. An elegant lace shroud was often included in the bride's dowry. The York Museum has a shroud embroidered at the beginning of the 20th century with one Yorkshire. It seemed so beautiful to her relatives that instead of burying her in it, they left the shroud for themselves as a keepsake.

In a solemn and blessed form, the body of the deceased was exhibited at home in an open coffin so that relatives and friends could say goodbye to him. The perception of death in those days was significantly different from ours. Firstly, then they died uncommonly more often and a greater number of the dead were children or young people. Secondly, the bodies of the deceased until the very funeral were at home. Many working-class Englishmen recalled having to sleep in the same room with a deceased grandmother, brother or sister more than once. Finally, the belief in the immortality of the soul helped, and the dying were not afraid to face non-existence beyond the threshold of death. At the same time, it should be noted that since the second half of the 19th century, mortality in England began to decline: if in 1868 there were 21.8 deaths per 1,000 people, then in 1908 it was already 14.8. Life expectancy in England and Wales also increased gradually, from 40.2 years in 1841 to 51.5 years in 1911.

The funeral

Funerals in Victorian England depended on the social position held by the family of the deceased, as well as on the willingness to fork out. Until the beginning of the 20th century, they did not save on funerals. Pompous funerals emphasized the status of the family and gave the relatives of the deceased the opportunity to “show off” the neighbors. While the English peasants themselves organized the ceremony, their wealthy compatriots turned to the undertaker's office. The price list in such establishments was designed for people with different levels income. In 1870, for 3 pounds 5 shillings, undertakers provided the following package: a horse-drawn carriage, a coffin without decorations but lined with cloth; coffin cover; gloves, scarves and headbands for mourners. The same amount included the services of a coachman, porters and a mute mourner. The presence of the latter gave solemnity to the funeral, although his duties were simple - to stand silently and with a mournful look at the entrance to the house, holding a staff with a bow in his hands. Looking at the mute mourner, passers-by were imbued with the sad atmosphere of the funeral. It was in this capacity that his owner, the undertaker, decided to use Oliver Twist, who liked the boy's "melancholy expression." The mute mourner was easily identified by the top hat from which hung a long scarf, almost to the waist, black or, in the case of children's funerals, white.

If desired and financially possible, it was possible to hire a hearse and funeral carriages to deliver the family to the cemetery. The horses harnessed to them were decorated with plumes of ostrich feathers. The number of mourners carrying staffs with bows or trays of ostrich feathers also depended on the client's ability to pay. The ladies present at the funeral wore hooded cloaks, the gentlemen dressed in black cloaks, often borrowed from the undertaker, and tied a narrow black ribbon to the hat. This is how the funeral of people of average income and above looked like.

Since Sunday was a public holiday, funerals and grave digging were discouraged on this day. Leaving the dead at home on Sunday was also considered undesirable, so they tried to finish the funeral before the weekend, except in cases where death occurred on a holiday. Then the consolation could be drawn only from the Welsh belief that on Sundays the righteous people die.

A completely different picture was observed in the families of the urban poor. Sunday is the only day off, and it was impossible to take time off from work even on such a serious occasion. So the poor people from the slums, in defiance of superstition and to the great displeasure of the rest of the townspeople, chose Sunday for the funeral. Their ordeals did not end there. Death could happen suddenly, and if the family did not have enough money to bury the deceased on the very first Sunday after his death, the corpse remained at home until the relatives collected the required amount. Sometimes it took several weeks to prepare for the funeral. During this time, the corpse lay in the same room in which the whole family huddled.

However, sometimes the funeral was delayed not only on the occasion of the weekend or due to lack of funds. A native of Durham in 1747 disposed of her husband's body in a rather original way. Her husband, the rector of Sedgefield, went to the forefathers a week before the collection of church tithes. In the event of the death of the rector, the tithe went to the Bishop of Durham, but the resourceful lady could not allow such a drain of capital. Therefore, she decided ... to salt her husband's corpse. The "salty pastor" lay in the room until the day when the parishioners came with the long-awaited tithe. The departed widow hid the money and only then announced the death of her husband. Nevertheless, rumors about the “salty pastor” spread around the district, and the spirit of the offended rector still long years couldn't calm down.

The eccentric Sir James Lowther, the first Earl of Lonsdale, born in 1736, also could not bury his wife for a long time, but for other reasons. In his youth, he passionately fell in love with a beautiful commoner. Because of her dependent position, the girl did not dare to refuse a high-born suitor. The earl took her to Hampshire, surrounded her with luxury, but the young mistress died away from homesickness. After her death, Lawther could not part with a beautiful body. Even when the corpse began to rot, the count still seated his beloved deceased at the table and had conversations with her. Because of the unbearable smell, the servants fled from the manor. In the end, even the inconsolable Sir James realized that you could not return his beloved. First, he ordered her body to be placed in a glass coffin and admired her remains for a long time. Only after some time did he decide to give the body to a Christian burial. The girl was buried at Paddington Cemetery in London, and when only memories remained of her, the earl was completely homesick. His character so deteriorated that among his tenants, Sir James earned the unflattering nickname "Evil Jimmy."

In order to learn about the original English funeral customs, we need to go to the countryside. There they did not delay the burial, although they could postpone it for a day or two, so that relatives from distant places could say goodbye to the deceased. Since it was believed that the body of the deceased should not be left alone for a minute, in the evening before the funeral, relatives and friends arranged a vigil over the body. In the 19th century, this custom was practiced mainly by the Irish and Scots. With a mixture of indignation and admiration, middle-class Englishmen read about the daring amusements of the vigils. For example, the Scots, in order not to get bored, played cards, and the coffin served as a card table. Since tears cannot satisfy hunger, the hosts brought treats to the guests, often alcohol. Every now and then the vigil turned into a drinking bout, and the guests got so into the taste that they feasted for several days on end, forgetting about the sad occasion for meeting. When it became decidedly impossible to ignore the dead man—especially in the heat of summer—they tried to bury him as soon as possible in order to resume the festivities, this time in a tavern.

memorial meal

On the day of the funeral, relatives and neighbors gathered in the house of the deceased. At the beginning of the 19th century, in some English counties (in particular, in Northumberland), funeral directors called guests to a funeral. They never knocked on the door with their fist, only with the key they carried with them. Sometimes the local bell ringer handled the invitations. Before going to the cemetery, guests were offered to commemorate the deceased. In the village of Im (Derbyshire), which went down in history because of the plague epidemic that occurred there in 1665-1666, during which the inhabitants subjected themselves to voluntary quarantine, triangular-shaped biscuits were served at funerals. The treat was washed down with dark ale with spices, and the biscuits moistened with ale were left near the hives so that the bees also commemorated the deceased. In Yorkshire at the beginning of the 19th century, all guests received a round sweet pie. The exception was the funeral of persons who had an illegitimate child. It was considered inappropriate to transfer sugar and flour to the remembrance of harlots. In more impressive families, the “funeral cake” was wrapped in writing paper and sealed with black wax so that the guest would commemorate the deceased already at home. In the 18th century, pie wrappers were decorated with "delicious" images of coffins, skulls and crossbones, grave hoes, and hourglasses. Thus, the eater did not just absorb carbohydrates, but reflected on eternity. Before the coffin was taken out of the house, the guests took a sprig of rosemary from a large bowl, which they then placed on the grave. As Shakespeare's Ophelia reminds us, "Rosemary is for memory."

In Scotland, guests put their hand on the chest of the deceased, especially if he died a violent death. Firstly, it was believed that if you touch the deceased, he will not appear in a dream. Therefore, everyone, even children, had to go through this procedure. Secondly, there was an ancient belief: if a person died a violent death, and a killer wormed his way among the guests, the wounds would open and begin to bleed. Like weddings, rural funerals were on foot. Various superstitions governed the movement of the funeral procession. Haste in this matter is unacceptable. In the west of Wales, it was believed that the coffin-bearers should walk with dignity, because if the procession moves too fast, new death is just around the corner. In 1922, a belief was recorded in Dorset that one should not run after a funeral procession, otherwise the hurried man himself would soon be carried to the cemetery. It is also important that the coffin be carried in the direction of the sun, that is, clockwise.

One of the most interesting superstitions was that if the funeral procession crossed the bridge, for which a toll was charged, it would immediately become free. The same applied to private landowner roads, which allegedly became open to public use. Although there is no mention of such privileges in English law, this belief persisted. According to legend, back in the 13th century, during the funeral of the chaplain of the Bishop of Exeter, the mourners had to change their route due to bad weather. The road to the cemetery lay through the lands of the landowner, and he, having heard a lot of superstition, was so frightened that he ordered his peasants to barricade the bridge. After all, otherwise the bridge would be free! A fight broke out between the peasants and the participants in the funeral procession, as a result of which the coffin ended up in the river. In later centuries, the landlords were no longer so belligerent. It was believed that the right to pass through a foreign land could be annulled if a duty was demanded from the funeral procession. Thanks to this precedent, the fee can be collected in the future. In the 19th century, such a duty, if it was levied at all, was purely symbolic - for example, in the form of several pins.

In some Welsh villages, on the contrary, they did not rely on chance, but laid special “funeral paths” in order to get to the cemetery by the shortest route. There were no potholes or potholes on this path. The order was carefully monitored, because, according to popular beliefs, three days before the death of a person, Death walked along the road or rode on his horse (more precisely, “walked” or “jumped”). And no one wanted to quarrel with Death.

For greater solemnity, and to make the way easier, the coffin was sometimes placed in a hearse. But the elderly provincials had an antipathy for hearses and asked that their relatives and friends carry them to the cemetery. Often the coffin bearers were of the same gender as the deceased. The young virgin was seen off on her last journey by girls in modest white dresses, straw hats and white gloves. Unmarried girls were warned that if they happened to attend three funerals in a row, they should definitely attend the wedding. Otherwise, the fourth funeral will be followed by their own. The coffin with the baby, in accordance with the rules, was carried under the arm of a woman. A white cloth was thrown over the coffin of a mother who died in childbirth. In many villages in East Anglia, girls were buried in white coffins, which were carried to the cemetery by schoolchildren in white suits and white gloves. Boys, on the contrary, were buried in all black, and the mourners also dressed up in black clothes, with black ribbons tied over the shoulder and around the waist. The coffin with a small child was carried here on a stretched white cloth.

It was customary for shepherds to be buried with a tuft of wool in their hands. The dead had to present this artifact at the Last Judgment as an excuse for the frequent absences of Sunday services. After all, the sheep can get lost at any moment, without checking the calendar, and even then the shepherd will not have time for sermons. Aberndeenshire people, especially the elderly, were afraid to look at the funeral from a window or doorway, so they always went outside. In both Scotland and England, it was considered unlucky to meet a funeral procession by chance. It is easy to guess that such a meeting promised a passerby, unless, of course, he took certain measures. To ward off misfortune, and at the same time to express respect for the deceased, it was necessary to take off the hat. Even more effective way- to join the procession himself, thus showing that the meeting with her is by no means accidental. It is enough to follow the procession a hundred steps, and then you can go about your business.

In turn, the relatives of the deceased were upset if they happened to meet some unfortunate animal on the way to the cemetery, for example, a hare. But the rain was considered a good omen, even if everyone got wet to the skin. The rain symbolized that heaven was mourning the deceased, therefore, he was a good person.

Not without incidents. There was a story in Aberdeen of a mischievous wife who for many years pushed her husband around. It is unlikely that he was very upset when one day she did not get out of bed. To properly celebrate the funeral, the widower did not stint on food or drink. As a result of abundant libations, the mourners trudged to the cemetery, stumbling every now and then, and already on the spot they crashed into a protruding corner of the fence and smashed the coffin into chips. And then a dead woman jumped out of the broken domina, and even angrier than before! It turned out that all this time she lay in a coma, but woke up from a collision with a wall. For a few more years, her husband yearned under her iron heel, and when his wife died a second time, he warned the porters: “Be careful with that corner, guys.” Fortunately for the spouse, there was no resurrection.

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