At the beginning of May, I had the chance
to spend a day in London. Not only that, but I had the great luck to experience
one of the very few sunny days during the water-logged springtime months! As I
didn't want to go around the usual tourist circuit I ended up going to Highgate
Cemetery as an alternative afternoon 'jaunt'. In fact, to proved to be truly
magical...
After Highgate Cemetery's inauguration in
1839, the majestic burial grounds gradually became a high place of Anglican
devotion, elegance and affluence in Victorian London. The landscaped garden
cemetery with its impressive architectural features of mausoleums, crypts and
tombs enabled the discerning visitor to 'take the air' in a respectable, yet
hugely popular manner. Men and women would stroll around the ostentatious
grounds, observing and admiring the site which acted as a vast stage on which
they could parade themselves in the latest finery. Although this self-conscious
aspect had no part in the guided tour of the Western part of the cemetery when
I went, all the visitors were in awe and admiration of the beauty on display.
Nature and the vestiges of the Victorian concerns over Life and Death vie for a
place, together creating a scene of great tranquility and peace, especially in
the springtime sun.
Highgate is far more than an evocative
wildlife sanctuary. The funereal
stonework, with its symbolic images and inscriptions all underline the
spiritual, aesthetic and historical wealth of the site, and emphasize the
cultural context that led to its creation and success. From that point of view
alone it is fascinating, as an overgrown museum, exposed to the elements. Here,
everything bounds with natural life and spirituality, offering a timeless haven
of beauty in the heart of such an urban setting.
The reason for the creation of Highgate
Cemetery is a little more prosaic, if not to say of plain gruesome
practicality. The Victorians are remarked for their 'obsessive concern' with
death, however given the context, this preoccupation is not entirely surprising.
As the Industrial Revolution transformed the nature of work and working
practices, the urban and rural landscape of Britain changed rapidly and
irremediably. From the turn of the 19th century Britain became a vast workshop
as advances in technology, science and manufacturing practices altered the
supply and demand of goods and services. In turn, the appetite of this increasingly-voracious
machine drew potential workers to the cities in their droves. New horizons were
opened to the Victorians, bringing unprecedented advances and adventures, yet
also leading to exposure to a fair measure of danger, disadvantage and
deprivation. Multitudes of workers, skilled and unskilled alike, were maimed or
killed in accidents due to perilous working conditions. The work of the
'navvies' - the navigational engineers - carved up the English landscape for
revolutionary civil engineering projects. However, the canals, embankments and
the railway system that revolutionized travel around the country cost thousands
their lives. Neither sex and no age group was safe from danger. Women and young
children were commonly employed in factories, selected to perform meticulous,
yet hazardous jobs, frequently working with heavy machines and toxic
substances. Such risks acted as a weak deterrent, however, as the very real
threat of destitution hung over each and every individual in this dog-eat-dog
society.
Given its level of death, disease and pollution
it seems almost ironic that London should have been a source of inspiration for
Napoléon III, in his plans to elevate the city of Paris away from its medieval
sprawl. And yet this ,in part, gave rise to the ambitious Hausmanian project
that largely defines the City of Light today... The noxious air and water in 19th
century British cities plagued the life of their inhabitants, regardless of
status. Factories spewed out industrial effluent and fumes into the
environment, to the extent that water courses resembled toxic soup and the
skies were obscured by shrouds of smog. The waters of Old Father Thames served
as a dumping ground for sewage, carcasses and corpses alike. The consequent
stench in the summer months was so nauseating that the Houses of Parliament
were closed in 1858, as a direct result of the 'Great Stink'. This unpalatable
'bad air' was known as toxic miasmas and these were erroneously held
responsible for the spread of cholera. It was to combat these miasmas that the
civil engineer, Joseph Bazalgette (1819-1891) would later devise his sewer
network. This was to be a key element in the Victorian sanitary revolution
which would transform the hygiene of central London. Nevertheless, the
smoke-laden air would remain heavy and foul for many decades to come. Judging
by the 1872 illustrations of Gustave Doré, London:
A Pilgrimage , the situation had still not vastly improved in the last
quarter of the 19th century. Ironically, inhabitants who avoided over-exposure
to 'fresh' air were equally at risk from toxins lurking in the home as chimney
fumes, domestic furnishings, wallpaper, cleaning products or simply damp and
vermin posed a very real threat on the domestic front.
Although Thomas Malthus (1766-1834) died
just before the veritable beginning of the Victorian era, he rightly predicted
the negative consequences of dramatic demographical change. According to his
theory, an explosion in population growth could only undermine the dreams of
Utopia offered by this socio-economic revolution, driven by industrial
progress. When Victoria became Queen in 1837, her long reign would see Britain
become truly Great, in terms of its domestic expansion and evolution and its
worldwide pre-eminence as the greatest Empire. Britain demonstrated an ever-growing
need for resources and overseas markets to fuel an economy based largely on revolutionized manufacturing. She sought to acquire further lucrative territories to extend
the Empire, competing against long-standing Continental rivals. Mass production
and export of goods assured Britain sudden prosperity. This made the fortune of
many industrialists whilst acting as a powerful lure to the less fortunate who
hoped to find work of any kind. It was hardly surprising that the major cities
doubled in size in a relatively short space of time. Although images prevail of
a Dickensian London, Manchester was the vanguard of industrialized Britain. In
north west England the manufacture of textiles exploded from the beginning of
the 19th century, led by technological and scientific developments which
coincided with other advances, such as the introduction of the railway system.
The expansion of the railway system linked Manchester to Liverpool, the hub of
international trade and immigration, and Birmingham, the heart of the metalwork
and jewellery trade. Such developments led to the influx and circulation of
ever-more people into and around industrial Britain.
The population of London grew from almost 1
million in 1801 to nearly 2 1/2, which naturally led to huge
overcrowding and the hardships which
that entailed. While the birth rate rocketed, unchecked by ineffective birth
control, the mortality rate reached an unprecedented high, markedly amongst
young infants and their mothers. Insalubrious housing was synonymous with non-
existent hygiene. The lack of even basic sanitation, a rudimentary waste
disposal system and the practice of communal use of water supplies all favourised
the spread of common-place illnesses along with life-threatening diseases. What
would be considered relatively banal today, in an age of mass-vaccination, was
fatal in the 19th century. Swathes of the population, malnourished, or
starving, lived and died in cramped, contaminated conditions, often in early
infancy from all manner of illnesses. Victorian consumption - tuberculosis - alone
accounted for a third of all deaths, irrespective of any class distinction. Epidemics
would rapidly decimate significant numbers of the public, as was the case with
the notorious cholera outbreaks. Whilst this was a disease brought back from
the Indian trade route, others - such as diphtheria, syphilis, typhoid and
scarlet fever - were prevalent in Britain and ensured thousands an early death.
From the beginning of the century not only
had London experienced an explosion in the number of inhabitants living in its
confined spaces, it also had unprecedented numbers of people dying there. As
people scrabbled to find accommodation during life, housing their mortal
remains after death proved to be even harder. Body disposal became a problem
for which there were very few solutions. The concept of cremation was abhorred
or feared by the vast majority of the public. In order for the body to rise
again and reunite with the soul in resurrection, entombment was vital, or so God-fearing
Christians were taught. Even though cremation became more common in the closing
years of the Victorian era, it could do nothing to solve the problem at hand during
the first decades of the 19th century. The solution was to come from across the
Channel...
Paris had also experienced the same
practical difficulties and was to come up with a solution which inspired English
cities; the garden cemetery. In the latter part of the 18th century, Paris
faced the same health hazards, and gruesome problem of how to deal with
ever-rising numbers of corpses. Limited space afforded by the consecrated
grounds of churches was no longer sufficient to house bodily remains in an appropriate
manner. Mass inhumation in shallow graves meant that cadavers in all states of
decomposition were often exposed to the elements, whilst liquid organic residue
seeped underground into the water supply. The Parisians were literally living
surrounded by death. They were exposed to the growing risk of contagion by
disease, intoxicated by noxious water, overcome by pestilential odours and haunted
by macabre visions. It was decided in the 1780s that the only viable solution
was to exhume fully decomposed body remains for transfer to a more
accommodating resting place. The overcrowded parish graveyard of Les Innocents (near Les Halles) was the main target of this
project as its site juxtaposed a major open marketplace , with the insalubrious
consequences that entailed.
This first burial ground was emptied, as
were many others. Carts bearing gruesome loads trundled across the city at
night to the entrance of the underground limestone quarries of the Tombe-Issoire,
later known as the Catacombs. Between 1786-1788 the bones of some six million
bodies were re-housed in this labyrinthine municipal ossuary and their numbers
grew during the Revolution years. Initially more or less stockpiled, these skeletal
remains were later displayed in a vast 'aesthetic' arrangement of skulls and limbs
in 1820 to decorate this Empire of Death. As the catacombs were for the most
part merely an elaborate repository, they could not satisfy the demand for suitable
burial grounds, complete with tombs and headstones. Another solution was
needed.
In 1804 the Cimitière du Père Lachaise was inaugurated and became the model for
the subsequent landscaped cemeteries over Europe. Although it was initially
shunned by Catholic parishioners as it was not attached to a specific church,
the cemetery soon grew successful and was enlarged several times. In England,
the movement towards public cemeteries distinct from churchyards was first lead
by dissenters. The first inter-denominational cemetery was established in 1819
in Norwich. Shortly after, this shift towards extra-muros grounds was driven by
the major health risks posed by the traditional interment practices that could
no longer meet the growing demands. The cholera epidemic in 1931-2 confirmed the
urgency of reform.
The commercial element was also of
significance. The tantalizing promise of good money to be made from decent
burial practices helped spur on this process. Thus the burial business was
taken away from the Church to become business, in its own right, for private
companies. Only much later did it fall under the responsibility of public authorities.
The General Cemetery of All Souls was
created in 1832, when a parliamentary act legalized profit-making burial
ventures. The General Cemetery Company was established for the 'Interment of
the Dead' at Kensal Green. This was the first of a group of private garden-style
cemeteries later known as the Magnificent Seven. These cemeteries formed a loop
around the outer London in line with the stipulations of an Act of Parliament
in 1836. The London Cemetery Company was responsible for the cemeteries of West
Norwood-1836; Highgate-1839; Abney Park-1840; Brompton-1840; Nunhead-1840;
Tower Hamlets-1841.
Even the provision of such extensive burial sites proved to
be somewhat inadequate to deal with a second cholera outbreak in 1848-49. In
addition, the prices demanded for burial plots remained prohibitive for the
lower classes, which only served to exacerbate the initial problem of interment
and increase the risk of contagion. The Metropolitan Burial Act of 1852
enforced the abolition of burial within city limits and led to the
establishment of further cemeteries, situated farther afield. Brookwood in
Surrey is still the largest cemetery in England, formed by the London Necropolis & National Mausoleum
Company in 1850. Utilizing the facilities offered by
the railway network that had flourished in the 1840's, Brookwood used the link
between Waterloo and a local station to transport the coffins and mourners alike on the
Necropolis line - duly nicknamed the 'Stiffs' Express'.
Of all the great London
cemeteries, Highgate is perhaps the most famous and was certainly the most
fashionable. In its functional heyday, it drew in the public, dead and alive.
and was generally held to be the
place to be seen in - the best address for the deceased and their mourners. Built
on elevated land, this elegant burial place was set on a gentle hillside
offering panoramic views over London. It was designed by architect Stephen
Geary and landscape gardener David Ramsey. 1843. The vista was not obscured
then, as it is today, by the impressive trees and shrubbery that seem an
integral part of its beauty now.
Sadly, the peacocks that are said to have
strolled around the cemeteries in the past are no longer a feature. Like the
other landscaped cemeteries, Highgate has its own specific charm that caught
the attention and admiration of the public then as it still does now. However,
it does not give the impression of following a uniform grid plan and the
rambling grounds add to the Romantic mood that reigns there. The exuberance of
the trees and greenery add to this evocative atmosphere, and give the
impression that it would be quite possible to lose one's way whilst wandering
along the pathways. Nevertheless, like the other Magnificent Seven cemeteries, the
lay-out of Highgate was certainly influenced by the specific ideals of garden
designer, J. C. Loudon. Although his publication On the Laying Out, Planting
and managing of Cemeteries (1843)
did not appear until several years after the inauguration of Highgate,
Loudon had been exposing his theories on landscaping in Gardener's Magazine
since 1825. He rejected sprawling, informal 'picturesque' plans, in favour of a spatially-organised design, which used exotic trees to highlight
and enhance this order. In this manner, Loudon sought to satisfy the
fundamental need for hygienic burial, whilst attaining a moral and aesthetic
harmony that brought dignity and beauty to the grounds and favourised the
contemplative state.
The success of the cemetery led to its expansion in 1854, with the
creation of the eastern side. Today, both parts of Highgate have their own
particular feel, although the majority of the visitors gravitate towards the
older section which is to be viewed as part of a guided tour. Two chapels, built in the Tudor Gothic style, form the entrance to the grounds, bearing
oriel windows and a central bell tower. The left-hand chapel was for the
reception of Anglicans , whilst the right-hand received dissenters. A tunnel
was later created to link the Anglican chapel to the second burial site on the
Eastern grounds. Once through the chapel entry, visitors are lead out onto a
paved area, surrounded by a crescent-shaped colonnade which offers shelter from
inclement weather.
This colonnade opens onto the steps that rise ahead
towards the footpaths. Once out of this architectural 'tunnel', you are immediately
confronted by the incredible greenery. In springtime, the foliage bursts up
with a strange mixture of woodland and cultivated flowers. The growth of the
trees and bushes, meanwhile, seems to have pursued its relentless course throughout
the year, over the decades. Ivy drapes itself over tombs, clinging to
headstones as its sinuous runners pour down over masonry to great effect.
Indeed, nothing here seems to have escaped the dramatic force of nature. Gravestones
and monumental structures are ever dislodged, destabilized and toppled, or
thrust apart by roots, runners and branches. The valiant efforts of the Friends
of Highgate Cemetery preserve much of the original features, bearing in mind
that the scale of the work required is vast, and the fact that an over-groomed
site would lose much of its charm. A series of before-and- after photos show
the restoration work that has been carried out over recent years, and continues
to be performed today. The minimally-restrained wilderness of today's cemetery,
in its state of 'managed neglect', creates a truly unique mood.
The tombs and
mausoleums vary in form, inscription and ornamentation, yet themes of death,
mortal decay, resurrection and the eternal abound. The themes are all
demonstrated by the appropriate symbols - weeping angles, wreaths, crosses, draped
urns, broken pillars, inverted torches and arrows, clasped hands, ivy, lilies,
lambs and doves alongside a number of oddities. Victorian eclecticism is
displayed in full by an incredible wealth of styles. Oriental and Classical
themes were favoured, as was an aesthetic, romanticized version of the Gothic.
Excessive Gothic references that could be directly associated with an affiliation
to the Catholic faith would generally have been shunned as this was principally
an Anglican cemetery.
The imposing entrance to the Egyptian Avenue amply demonstrates the
Victorian taste for the Oriental and the theatrical. Towering obelisks flank a
passageway that is set in the pharaonic gate, complete with lotus-flower
columns and a wrought-iron gate. The inspiration was, of course, the Valley of
the Kings and the Hanging Garden of Babylon.
The dramatic mood is certainly
recreated today, given the vegetation which majestically swathes the Egyptian masonry
and the ferns that frame the whole. It is not entirely surprising perhaps, that
Hammer Horror studies should have been inspired to use this in the 1968 film Taste the Blood of Dracula. The tapering
lines of the doorway lead the eye instinctively up to what lies beyond the
sombre tunnel; the Circle of Lebanon.
The tunnel is
lined by sixteen vaults, all of which able to house twelve coffins. Individual
families would purchase a vault, marking the entrance with the symbols and
inscriptions of their choice. With quirky Victorian practicality, these would
often include the mortal address of the deceased! Incidentally, we also see
evidence of this sense of the practical in the symbolic references to
professions throughout the cemetery. The most noticeable of these include the
inverted whip, horn and horseshoe of a famous coachman, the downturned canons
of a British general, and the lion that had made the fortune of a renowned
menagerie exhibitor...
The Egyptian
avenue leads onto the Circle of Lebanon, which bears a similar style of
architecture for the vaults that encircle the central feature. The vaults that were
later added to the exterior wall of the Circle are in the Classical style, but
this does not disturb the harmony of the whole, nor does it draw attention away
from the massive Cedar of Lebanon that dominates the scene. This ancient tree
was already in place when work began on the cemetery and the Circle that showcases
it was formed by simply excavating the earth from around its base. This formed
an island that is not easily accessible by man or beast; it is said that sheep
were let across to graze the Circle's lawn on planks of wood... The cedar itself
had belonged to the grounds of Ashurst House, an estate that had been sold in
1830 to give rise to St Michael's Church. Likewise, the remains of the Ashurst
terraced gardens, with their panoramic views over London, were used to create
the Terrace Catacombs. The latter, carved into the hillside, are also known as
the Cutting Catacombs and their brick-vaulted gallery houses fifty-five vaults,
able to accommodate 825 bodies. These were created in response to a movement
towards above-ground burials, which was partly fuelled by the Victorian fear of
being interred alive. Edgar Allen Poe's account of such a fate in The Fall of the House of Usher (1839)
did nothing to quell that anxiety, and may have encouraged the use of 'safety
graves'. These security systems offered a rudimentary means of communication between
the coffin's inhabitant and the world above. Indeed, a bell could be activated
by a chain tugged by the resuscitated inmate so as to alert a warden to the
unfortunate situation. This was also part of the motivation for glass panels to
be installed directly above interred tombs, so that any abnormal activity could
be observed by those at hand above ground.
The most
impressive mausoleum at Highgate is that of the newspaper baron, Julius Beer.
Built to commemorate his daughter who had died in childhood, its massive form
commands our attention. Its size and position were chosen to dominate the site,
obscuring the view in order to demonstrate the importance of this nouveau riche converted Jew who had been ostracized in his
lifetime. The structure is modelled on the tomb of the Greek king Mausolus, one
of the Seven Wonders of the World, and the origin of the word 'mausoleum'.
Today we can enter to admire the sculpted relief that represents an angel
transporting a child towards the blue-and-gold mosaic ceiling that symbolizes Heaven.
Until several years ago access to the mausoleum had not been possible as decades
of neglect had encouraged its colonisation by pigeons and required the removal
of tons of bird droppings and debris by the Friends of Highgate Cemetery.
Other tombs are
memorable for their highly original design or the originality of their
residents, sometimes both of these at the same time. Such is the case for the
tomb of a certain Thomas Sayers. The sculpture of a large bull mastiff dog has
pride of place, devotedly guarding over the tomb of the famous boxer.
The dog
had been named official mourner for the funeral and had duly been taken to the
graveside in a separate carriage that followed its owner's hearse. The fame of
the deceased was such that his untimely death led to an official day of
mourning, and resulted in hundreds of people taking to the streets to follow
the funeral procession to the cemetery.
Other noticeable
headstones are those of people considered dissenters, dissidents or outsiders,
for one reason or another in their lives, like Julius Beer mentioned above .
The most famous of these is the imposing monument of Karl Marx (1818-1883), the
zealous advocate of Socialism. He looks down on the visitors from his granite
stele in the eastern part of the cemetery and you can guess what he must have
thought of the extravagant catacombs and mausoleums on the other side of
Swain's Lane.
The tomb of the
novelist George Eliot (1819-1880) is situated near the Marx monument. Denied
burial in Westminster Abbey because of her rejection of the Christian faith,
and her 'inappropriate' relationship with her writer partner, she is in the
dissenters' area of the site, near Marx. Meanwhile the vault of another female writer
who took a man's name as a pseudonym is Radclyffe 'John' Hall (1880-1943) is in
the Circle of Lebanon. The author of the novel The Well of Loneliness (1928)
fought for the recognition of lesbians as "the Third Sex", and while
her work was banned under the obscenity act she did much to advance the lesbian
cause.
A more recent tomb
belongs to the late Russian spy, Alexander Litvinenko, who was poisoned by
radioactive polonium in 2006. This was a particularly moving sight due to the
dissendent's age, the circumstances of his death and his alleged desire to be
buried in Chechnya. His lead-lined coffin assures minimal risk of radiation
leaks from the contaminated body but also means that he is unlikely to return
to his homeland.
On a lighter note,
is the rugged headstone of the 'father' of Hovis wheatgerm bread, Richard
'Stoney' Smith (1836-1900) which recalls the milling process. His unique
production technique was patented in 1887, with the name Hovis chosen as a
contracted form of the Latin Homonis Vis,
meaning the strength of man.
On its inauguration in the 19th century no one would surely have thought
it possible that Highgate's success would be ephemeral. And yet from the turn
of the 20th century its decline was guaranteed... Despite great commercial and
popular success in its opening decades, Highgate was slowly to fall victim to
the whims of taste, changing customs and material concerns which would cut off
the life blood of the cemetery; income. The practice of large ostentatious funerals
and the following need for elaborate tombs and mausoleums were to dwindle in
the last quarter of the century. Smaller, manageable individual graves were to
be selected since they were more practical and less expensive. Parallel to this,
attitudes towards cremation were evolving.
The first official
cremation took place in 1885 and the establishment of authorized crematoria
came about following the 1902 Cremation Act. Cremation offered a cheaper
alternative to burial and rendered the purchase of large burial plots
undesirable. Despite an initial healthy investment on the part of shareholders,
after a while the cemetery could not generate as much long-term revenue as planned.
The rights of burial in perpetuity could not raise any new money, funds were lost
and this lead a slow process of decline and disrepair. The death of Queen
Victoria in 1901 marked the end of the Victorian era, yet the mourning and
funeral practices that often seemed to epitomize this period in history had
already shrunk away years before. The Great War of 1914-18 and the influenza
pandemic dealt another blow to the cemetery. On the one hand, Highgate's gardeners
and grounds men joined active service, so that their numbers diminished, on the
other, the unprecedented number of deaths brought about by war meant that
people no longer had the space, time, money or inclination to maintain the
former funeral and mourning rituals. Rights of Burial continued to be purchased
in the 1930s , but significant numbers of plots were abandoned to their steady
decline. Even the sale of the stone mason's quarters and the superintendant's
house could not stem the haemorrhage and the two chapels were forced to close.
The merger of London Cemetery Company with the United Cemetery Company following
bankruptcy in 1960 did little to protect the cemetery and the new group also declared
themselves bankrupt in 1975.
Highgate may well have been closed to the
public, it still received many 'visitors' - largely undesired. Even before this
period, vandals, reckless youngsters, occultists and varied odd-balls were fond
of frequenting the grounds 'out-of-hours'. The plants and trees that had always
been resident in the grounds now had free rein to take over in spectacular fashion.
This all went to create a kind of mystical wilderness that today's Goths might
dream about. It was at this time that Highgate Hysteria was born, duly bringing
with it negative and positive consequences.
Accounts of ghostly sightings in Highgate
Cemetery had always been given with great relish. Part of the enthusiasm for
such tales probably stemmed back to the all-too-real macabre events of the late
1860s, when a coffin was exhumed and opened. The artist and poet Dante Gabriel
Rossetti returned to the tomb of his late wife, the Pre-Raphaelite model and
artist, Lizzie Siddal in order to retrieve his manuscript of poems which had
been placed in the coffin on her death seven years earlier, in 1862. Fearing
that his lifework would be lost forever, along with the bodily remains of his
wife, he decided exhumation was the only viable option. After some judicious
string-pulling with the relevant authorities, and encouraged by his literary
agent, Rossetti received permission to proceed to a discreet night-time mission.
With a certain amount of gall, nerves of steel and an even stronger stomach,
Rossetti was to use the poetry book thus recovered and it was forever claimed
that Lizzie's beauty was intact, set off by her ever-growing luxuriant locks.
Nevertheless, the exhumation is said to have played on his conscience and the
events of that night haunted him to the point that he later stated "Let me
not on any account be buried at Highgate". Not surprisingly, the ghost of
Rossetti was said to roam the pathways of the cemetery, but his was not the
only one to haunt the grounds...
For many years visitors had claimed to have
been touched by icy fingers, disturbed by whisperings, whimpering, sighing specters
and unnerved by strange forms disappearing behind gravestones and into dense
undergrowth. Some witnesses reported glimpsing imp-like creatures, others purported
to have seen creatures from medieval Wallachia. Perhaps inspired by Lizzie
Siddal's exhumation, along with the romantic aura and eerie tales that lingered
around and about the cemetery, Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897) dwells on the theme of the undead. Lucy Westenra's
fictional resting place is often said to have been set in Highgate. It is not
sure if that is truly the case, but the novel served to keep vampires in the
public mind. The vampire genre, like vampires themselves, is destined for
eternal life, a form that never dies, regardless of the decades that pass.
It was in the early 1970s that the 'Highgate Vampire Sightings' made media
headlines and fed a frenzy that stoked up interest in the dilapidated cemetery.
Despite its locked gates, Highgate was increasingly broken into by those interested
in the supernatural, the spirit world, and black magic. These enthusiasts were
joined by ordinary members of the public too, simply curious to see what might
lurk in the grounds, and what lie behind all the rumours. Working independently
of each other were a young man who described himself as a paranormal
investigator, David Farrant, and his soon-to-be arch rival, an exorcist/vampire-hunter
called Sean Manchester. Both reported traces of unexplained activity at
Highgate to the local media and claimed to have found evidence of dark forces
at work. Farrant stressed that this phenomena manifested itself as a strange
'grey man'. Manchester pursued the line that a vampire was probably concerned
since a Romanian nobleman-occultist had been buried alive in the cemetery some
150 years previous. The mysterious discovery of dead foxes spurred on their
shared intention to find the offending force, and neutralize it once and for
all. Neither one had any desire to work with the other, however, which
complicated matters somewhat. On Friday 13th March 1970, the act was set to
take place by the separate factions. By this time, the whole affair had taken
on far greater proportions, as media hype meant that it was no longer considered
a minor event recounted in the local paper. The cemetery was invaded by crowds,
prepared to take the necessary steps. Many came armed with the crucifixes,
wooden stakes and garlic so familiar to us today from vintage vampire films.
Apparently tombs were opened, and there was talk of headless corpses as the
marauding vampire hunters sought to drag out suspect cadavers. The Highgate
hunts never did manage to return the 'Vampire King of the Undead' to the land
of the dead with a wooden stake through his ungodly heart. In the failed
mission, the cemetery was desecrated, masonry damaged, graves were tampered
with, but no concrete evidence of a vampire was found, let alone a vampire.
The only lasting advantage of the whole
vampire saga was that it dragged Highgate back out of obscurity, into the
public light, even if this was for dark reasons. It resulted in the formation
of the Friends of Highgate Cemetery shortly after the initial Highgate
Hysteria. With its volunteers, lead by the imposing figure, 'Mrs Tombstone',
the late Jean Pateman, this group campaigned to resurrect Highgate Cemetery from
oblivion and possible obliteration. By the early 70s there had been talk of razing
the cemetery's architectural features to the ground, exhuming the bodies from
the underground crypts and covering over the burial site for later sale. Thanks
to the non-profit organisation, Friends of Highgate Cemetery, the site was
saved from the developers.
The vampire notoriety meant that Highgate
was brought to the fore in the public's mind. Its grounds, perhaps forever 'doomed'
to be synonymous with the strange,
have attracted interest ever since. Unlike the other cemeteries of the
Magnificent Seven, the name of Highgate is easily recalled today. Highgate is the Victorian burial site that people
want to see, whatever their motivation may be. As said, an interest in the
undead has never really waned. Although today's vampire stars are rather more youthful
than they were in the 70s, largely appealing to younger audiences unaware of
the original Highgate furore, the fascination with this historic location still
continues. Today, visits to Highgate's western site is by guided tour only.
Since the volunteers carrying out the tours only make the most cursory
references to the cemetery's vampire associations, the public - young and old
alike - learn of the fundamental significance of Highgate and move away from
the media-hyped popular legends. The residual succès de scandale of the
cemetery as a "Victorian Valhalla" (Sir John Betjeman) has assured
that Highgate's fate has not been sealed by financial ruin. As admission to the
site requires the payment of an entrance fee, each visitor contributes to the
upkeep and restoration of the site.
As much as I have fond childhood memories
of Christopher Lee's contributions to the world of vampires, and the Hammer
Horror films in general, the supernatural genre does not fascinate me in
particular, and certainly did not motivate my visit to Highgate. Neither did
the other popular association that proves to be a crowd-drawer; the renowned Victorian
interest in death and a predilection for the morbid. This does not specifically
concern Highgate, but as one of the best-known cemeteries of this period, it is
generally considered to highlight this penchant the most dramatically.
The unprecedented mortality rate in the
19th century had an impact on the Victorian attitude to life, and above all
death, and in consequence the death rituals that were observed. The Victorians
understood that death was a domestic, day-to-day reality that they were obliged
to face, regardless of their status and wealth. Dire poverty and the ravages of
disease obliged the majority to accept the base fact that life, was
"solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short", to quote Thomas Hobbes
(1651).
Understandably, middle-class Victorians
shied away from any association with the brutish unfortunates of society. They
wanted to distance themselves from the miserable fate in this world and the
next that awaited such individuals. Clinging to the belief that death would surely
deliver honorable beings such as themselves to another sphere. they used lavish
material trappings in their death rites. In this manner, the affluent and
aspiring classes could distinguish themselves from these lesser mortals, and
the brutal finality of their existence. Such excess served to mask the fear
that the deceased had simply left this mortal life; no eternal life lay beyond.
Through an almost superstitious display of mourning the Victorian mourners believed
they could get closer to the spiritual, eternal life that would be found upon
death. In this manner, free indulgence in elaborate death ceremonies consoled
the mourners and provided them with the means to face tragedy and gave meaning
to their loss.
Little by little, the notion of grieving
took on far greater importance in what has been termed the Victorian 'cult of
death'. Each step of the bereavement process was ceremoniously enacted to a
strict set of customs which strove to belie mortality. Death was literally
dressed up and obsessed over. This was an almost frantic attempt to cover up
the void at the heart of death since the admission of the emptiness and
futility of the human condition was taboo. In addition, in a life for the upper
classes that was often cosseted, corseted, asphyxiated by custom, etiquette and
religious fervour and morality, perhaps the excesses of mourning gave some,
especially women, the means to indulge in fashion, fantasy and heightened
feelings.
Perhaps it could be said that excessive
Victorian rituals served to celebrate their belief in Life, even though they
simply appear macabre or voyeuristic to us today. The two taboos of Death and
Sexuality still fascinate us today as they did the Victorians, with an
interchangeable ability to repel and attract us. However, the sexuality that
was repressed by Victorian ignorance, devote morality and hypocrisy now colours
much of western society today, whilst death has become our last remaining
taboo. We find the Victorian preoccupation with death to be morbid to the
extreme and we consider ourselves to be above such distasteful interests. Yet our
over-sexualized society would be the nightmarish vision of licentiousness to
the average Victorian prude. And the joy of others, just as long as it could be
kept a secret. In short, our taboos have largely been inverted; each era seeks
to repress whatever disturbs its innermost equilibrium or perceived sense of
decorum in social display. Perhaps we also hope to be defined by our
obsessions. Maybe the Victorians hoped to express morality and sanctity through
their observance of death, just as our sex-obsessed society seeks to convey the
image of success and power. Freud said that we are defined by our repressions;
so where does that leave us today?
In the 19th century each family could
expect to mourn several loved ones and would be obliged to give the deceased a
decent burial. The funeral process proved to be a costly enterprise, albeit
highly lucrative for the those attending to the needs of the bereaved. Mourning
soon became an industry in its own right. Indeed, all kinds of companies,
alongside the funeral parlours, catered to the needs of a public desperate to
follow correct etiquette. Mourning enabled the wealthier members of society to
display their status and respectability in a wholly dignified manner, and to a
certain extent this showy aspect filtered down to all social classes. This
influence continued as journals and household manuals gave advice on the
appropriate forms to observe. It was not enough to simply have a funeral
cortege, with the customary black lacquered carriage, drawn by black horses
bearing somber ostrich feathers, accompanied with a suitable group of
pallbearers and a pair of funeral mutes to stand guard over the day's
proceedings, means permitting. Mourning had to be seen to be a long, protracted
process.
A woman had to display bereavement through
a far more visible form of mourning dress than a man and she also was expected
to spend a far greater time doing so than her male counterpart. The
vestimentary code for men ensured that a mourning suit would be worn initially,
but this could soon be replaced by black arm and hat bands, a cravate and
gloves. By custom only menfolk would attend the actual interment of the coffin;
women were obliged to stay at home to avoid traumatic graveside scenes. This
confinement would extend over months for women, although generally speaking
there were fewer restrictions on a man's social movements during the mourning
phase. It was deemed vital that a man go out and about on his business and furthermore,
should he have children to cater for, it was preferable for all concerned that
a widower found a new wife as soon as possible.
Milliners and dressmakers endeavoured to
meet the sartorial needs dictated by convention, and soon driven by 'crazes'.
Since mourning garments would often be required at short notice, these were
some of the first off-the-peg clothes to be found in suppliers' shops. Not
surprisingly, only the colour black was considered respectful for adults Clothes
were either bought ready-made in lack-lustre material, or a mourner's own
clothes would be taken to a merchant-dyer who would treat them in bulk. Poorer
families could dye their own garments at their own peril; the pungent smell was
unbearable, the fumes noxious. The duller and more life-less the 'widow's
weeds', the better the effect, and crape seemed to meet this requirement
admirably. Used for veils and trims it nevertheless proved to be a difficult to
wear and maintain since it shrivelled and disintegrated when wet. Not only
that, breathing through a dyed veil exposed the wearer to toxic substances
released by the treated material. However, a long weeping veil was an essential
element of respectful mourning since it hid inopportune sobbing and again could
protect the mourner from a watchful specter. Indeed, for all the tears spilt
for the deceased, the Victorian fear of haunting by the 'undead' governed many
of the mourning rituals. The colour black could hide a mourner from the
attentions of any hovering spectre of Death. Black material was used liberally
to camouflage any person or possession from a loitering spirit who might otherwise
get caught. Every conceivable visible accessory or item of clothing had to
black, from mantles, handkerchieves, parasols and fans. With the same concern
in mind, mirrors were shrouded to avoid the reflected image of a spirit being
ensnared in the glass, clocks were stopped at the hour of death, door knobs and
bells muffled so as not to 'wake the dead'. When the body finally left the home
for burial it was carried out feet first to prevent the deceased from looking back
and beckoning to mortals to follow. The rituals observed would appear normal
measures to a Victorian public already obsessed by superstitions of all kinds.
The need for mourning paraphernalia often
gave bereaved families the means to acknowledge the importance of the deceased
person. Post-mortem photos portraying the departed 'resting' amongst family
would sometimes be the only photograph of the loved one. Plastercast molds of
hands or faces - death masks - caught the essence of an individual, as did hair
which was commonly used to make various types of jewellery, especially brooches,
pendants and rings . Tears that had not been wiped onto the 'weepers' - the
muslin cuffs on the mourning gowns - could be preserved in a 'lachrymatory' or
tear bottle to show how much and how long a mourner had grieved. Indeed, it had
to be remembered that mourning was not only an expensive process, but a lengthy
one too.
The duration of mourning depended on the
nature of the relationship with the deceased. For a widow the mourning period
would be divided into three distinct stages, usually over a minimum of two
years, means and circumstances permitting. Deep mourning would see the mourner
confined to the house and church in full mourning attire for a year and a day,
whilst the half-mourning stage allowed for a less rigid clothing code and a
greater freedom to leave the house. 'Slighting' the full mourning meant that
appropriate ornamentation could now decorate the sober gowns and that mourning
jewellery could be worn during this secondary phase lasting nine months. The
custom for tasteful jewellery lead to an explosion in the demand for jet (black
amber) and its cheaper alternative, vulcanite (ebonite). The coveted jet came
from Whitby where business was brisk in the 1820s but roaring by the 1860s.
Onyx and obsidian were much appreciated as was the hair-work jewellery already
mentioned. Although the crape mourning veil could at last be lifted back, it
was only in the half-mourning phase that women could finally wear other
garments than the dour widow's weed. Many women allowed themselves to wear pale
mauve or grey while others dressed in mourning black for the rest of the lives
. Since many women would experience the death of several children along with
other members of their family, they could expect to spend most of their life in
black.
Hospitals were generally shunned as unsavoury
places to be avoided; the sick and dying were tended at home. Approximately 80%
of the population died at home, surrounded by their loved ones who would watch
over them before and after death. The death bed was an accepted part of the
departure from this world, and it was hoped that the dying would utter a few meaningful
last words to the living gathered around before shuffling off the mortal coil!
Likewise, the laying-out of the body would generally be performed at home, by
the women of the household. The body would remain in place, duly watched over during
the wake until the day of the funeral. Keeping a body at home for as long as
possible enabled mourners to grieve adequately and would render it less
beneficial to a body snatcher. Heavily scented flowers were de rigueur for the obvious reasons...
The Anatomy Act of 1832, again served to
open the eyes of unwilling Victorians to a brutal view of Man's lot, one that
cruelly opposed their hope for consolation in times of mourning and for reassuring
world view in the face of death and loss. The factual, anatomical details of
death simply underlined the ugliness of man's passing from life, and the suffering
that had generally led to it. This could only abnegate the hope for a beautiful
afterlife. Indeed, the act highlighted the possibility that decent humans may
live and die like any other creature, bound for mortal decay in this material
world, denied immortality or reunion with loved ones. The act lifted the
restrictions on the origins of corpses required for medical research by the
expanding medical profession. This also lead to the birth of
'resurrectionists', ready to disinter the dead to feed this illegal trade in
corpses for dissection. The very idea, let alone the reality, of having the
body of a loved one, or indeed oneself, stolen and tampered with, was simply
intolerable. The mere notion that any human body could be dissected and studied
like an animal carcass was anathema to the vast majority. Understandably, the
publication of Charles Darwin's theory of evolution several decades later,
disturbed and outraged God-fearing Victorians. It showed that Man was not
created unique, but was one of the fittest links in an evolutionary chain. The Origin of Species (1858) was praised
by many scientific luminaries, but rejected as absurd and monstrous by the
general public. Indirectly, its publication served to reinforce the Victorian
desire for a 'good death' for the deceased, and also for a good mourning for
the benefit of the living.
At the beginning of the 19th century,
science and religion had 'co-inhabited' peacefully, as God's earth provided
rich evidence of His design and creation. Yet the 19th century was led by a
growing desire to identify the nature of things, to reveal the meaning and role
that each and everything was endowed with. The century was hailed as one of
discovery, education and improvement, and England led the way, as the Great
Exhibition at Crystal Palace sought to demonstrate in 1851. An insatiable interest
for the new and unusual drove many to collect items to satisfy their
inquisitive nature and furnish their own curiosity cabinets. The desire to map
out the world enabled many Victorians to create a romanticized, ever-more
symbolic universe around them, wherein even flowers had their own heightened meaning
and 'language'. Nevertheless, the Victorian aim was surely not to remove the
spiritual mystery of life and death, but to draw closer to it, in wonder and
awe of God's design. As such, death, could not be rendered in any way prosaic
or meaningless, nor could God's intention be debased by crass explanations. The
memento mori that were so appreciated may have underlined the fragility of
human life, they nevertheless hinted at the afterlife. Yet again, the beauty of
life and death remained intact; mystified and detached from the spiritual void that
science seemed to suggest. The deceased could truly be perceived as not lost,
but gone before to the hereafter.
As scientific research probed further it
posed ever-more troublesome questions. It was sometimes felt that Christian
explanations were not entirely sufficient to answer these queries and were
subsequently tainted by doubt. The reassuring mantle of belief in God's unique
creation slipped or was left with gaping holes as uncertainty crept in, at a
time when reassurance would surely have been most needed. Meanwhile, science
offered much but was unable to deliver all, especially in the field of
medicine. As medical advances and improved hygiene the mortality rate lowered,
especially amongst the youngest members of society. The unexpected cruel blow
of death therefore seemed even more unjust, and its unbearable threat seemed to
loom over life, ever-present. Discoveries could reveal the threats that
surrounded a hitherto unsuspecting public but could not guarantee cure from the
illness or escape from the death these threats alluded to. Alternative medical
therapies and cures were adopted in the hope that homeopathy, hydrotherapy (Darwin
was a convert to this), mesmerism and galvanism or treatments closer to
quackery or plain witchcraft could offer alternative forms of relief and
belief. In the arts, the desire to escape from a dehumanizing, increasingly
mechanized modern society led to the formation of the Pre-Raphaelite
Brotherhood around 1852 and later, the Arts and Crafts movement. The medieval
period was inspirational due to the purity of its aesthetics and its freedom
from vulgar, soul-less industrialization that characterized Victorian Britain. In
the last years of the century spiritualism became increasingly popular as
members of the public hoped to communicate with the dead and in so doing find
evidence of an afterlife. Sadly, none of these solutions could eradicate the various
causes of so much suffering nor the prevalent diseases that had no respect of
age, class or position in mortal life.
When Prince Albert died of typhoid at the
premature age of 42, his widow became the most eminent and influential
Victorian mourner of all; Queen Victoria herself. By 1861,full-blown mourning
was already an established social norm. However, on the Prince's death this
ostentatious practice reached an unprecedented level. Victoria's full mourning
period surpassed any other and continued, to a lesser degree, during the forty
years to the end of her life, inspiring other women to follow suit. Although
little appreciated for her stilted tastes and sense of dress during Albert's
life, Victoria suddenly became a trendsetter after his death as she withdrew
from public life to grieve. On the consort's death, the Queen had announced
that the public mourning would have "the longest term in modern
times"; she was true to her word. While all the servants had to wear
mourning clothes for a year, life in the royal household eerily continued as if
the prince were still alive, with preparations made daily for his domestic
routines. Her 'binge' of bereavement knew no bounds, and the display of her
mourning showed little reason. At the Duke of Wellington's funeral in 1852,
Prince Albert had himself disapproved of the excess, and above all the
abundance of memorial monuments, remarking, "If I should die before you,
do not, I beg, raise even a single marble image to my name." Perhaps the
Queen no longer recalled those words; her only single-minded forays onto the
public scene for years after Albert's demise were to do precisely that. Her quasi-retirement
from the responsibilities as head of the British Empire caused concern for the
Monarchy. After almost a decade of seclusion, withdrawn in a state of
pathological grieving, Queen Victoria was to resume her full regal duties in
the public light. Nevertheless just as her excessive mourning marked an
outrageous peak in the trend, it heralded its end too. By the time of her death
just after the turn of the century, the custom for 'Victorian' mourning had
lost its vigor.
Although Victoria had spent most of her
life dressed in black, she demanded a white funeral, and was dressed in her
wedding veil, ready to be reunited with her husband. Victoria gave strict
instructions as to her own funeral proceedings, stating in particular which
objects she wished to be placed in her coffin. These were, not surprisingly,
those of Prince Albert, in addition to a photo of her devoted servant John
Brown. I think that the inscription above the
mausoleum probably sums up the typically Victorian hopes in death, and
aspirations in mourning: peace and eternal harmony - "...Here at length I shall rest with thee, with
thee in Christ I shall rise again."
Well, it goes without saying that I would
fully recommend a tour of Highgate, although I am sure that the other
cemeteries that make up the Magnificent Seven fully deserve a visit too. Yet
these are but a few of the beautiful, peaceful Victorian sites often wrongly
dismissed as being depressing, morbid places. I certainly don't believe that to
be true in any way. They are the testament to a myriad of positive and negative
emotions, aspirations and events that made up the lives of our not-so-distant
relatives, although many only represent the more privileged classes of
Victorian society to the exclusion of the less fortunate. What they do reflect,
for me at least, is a universal yearning for something lasting and of beauty,
however questionable that aesthetic taste may be, in some cases. As
hypocritical, unfeeling, selfish, ignorant, misguided, or just plain weird many
people of this vast period may well have been in reality, at least they
'bothered', even if it was just for their own personal gain. Now just as then,
much of life is governed by money, but the aspiration to create an enduring
elegance and beauty that can be shared by many seems to have been lost, or is used
solely for personal benefit behind closed doors. Much of the Victorian world
view was skewed, often to the detriment to the underprivileged, but the
Victorians' attitude to life and death was not one of indifference and could
not be resumed by the modern term 'Whatever'...
