Merchant House Museum Victorian Funeral
As previously mentioned, I attended the Merchant House Museum Victorian Funeral reenactment of Seabury Treadwell on 24 October. It was a truly fantastic event.
The museum itself is a 19th century townhouse that once belonged to Seabury Treadwell and family. It has been restored and furnished from the period, and contains portraits of the original inhabitants.
The funeral began in the sitting room, where my friend vraidaae sat in mourning (she works for the museum). Another woman dressed in period wear gave a lecture and then there was a sermon.
The lecture was on medicine, palliative care, views of death and funeral customs of the time. It is, dear readers, a miracle any of us are here at all based on what I learned. For example, the windows and mirrors that were draped in crepe were often soaked first in arsenic to keep the fabric stiff. Small doses of other poisons were also frequently used in medicine. I was aware of this already (for example, lead was used to sweeten wine since the middle ages, and mercury could be found in white foundation makeup). What made this lecture interesting, however, was the notion of palliative care. Since there was little knowledge at the time regarding medicine for treatment, much was accomplished to keep people comfortable while dying. Not for poor Mr. Treadwell, however. It seems there was a tradition within his particular observation of faith (I think he was Episcopalian) of "being ready for G-d" which meant avoiding any sort of induced delirium so that one could pray every day in preparation for meeting one's maker. There was, in fact, a general sentiment at this time of having a constant awareness of death. Considering the high infant mortality rate and high rates of death during childbirth, Death truly was a constant companion. The lecture was at once informative, sobering and deliciously gothic.
After the lecture and service, we walked in a procession to the NYC Marble Cemetery. Pallbearers were solicited from the audience to carry the (empty) wooden casket. It was great fun walking through the streets of NY as onlookers with quizzical faces stared. A few asked what was going on. I walked behind the widow pretending to be her sister and asked people if they knew the deceased. Alas, only one person played along. But vraidaae told me later she had to work hard to keep from laughing and playing with me as she was in fact working the event and not just along for the fun of it.
Another service was held at the cemetery and then we sang a hymn (Nearer my G-d to Thee). Then we were treated to a lecture about burial history and specifics about that cemetery. I've been aching to enter that space for many years now, as it's generally closed to the public. So it was a real treat to walk on the grass and simply be in the space of so much history.
Now, I've been trying to get to this event for several years. So it's quite a miracle that the first time I manage to attend, I wind up in the Style Section of the NY Times. Perhaps it was fate?
In any event, here are some photographs of the day. I took the interior shots with my iPhone using a program called HDR that allows you to make good use of limited lighting. Special thanks to drfardook (whose photos are all B&W) and Ms. Mary Alice for sharing their fine photography of the event.
LARGE picture warning - your bandwidth may need palliative care after this.
Without further adieu, the picspam of Death awaits
vraidaae and I at the tombstone of the Treadwell family
and in front of the portrait of Mr. Seabury Treadwell. I joked he might be looking upon us as his daughters.
a pallbearer
The museum re-enactors pose at the cemetery
Graveside service
A girl and I pose for drfardook in the cemetery
Singing the hymn
In addition to the service, the entire house was decked out in funeral attire. In the upstairs master bedroom they had an exhibit that included the scent of rosemary and flowers typical for use in death at the time, as well as the sound of dripping water as bodies were often placed on ice until burial.
There was a display of photos from the time, including one cabinet of the funerals of children. A sign asked that no photos be taken of the deceased children and mourners. But there was no such request for these family shots of the (then) living, on display in another room. It struck me that the open casket pictures of babies and toddlers in the other cabinet would be the last time parents and siblings would ever see the children again. Considering how novel photography must have been at the time, I was deeply moved imagining this impact. It also gave to my mind an explanation as we don't tend to take pictures at funerals today. And especially not close up shots of dead babies. I wonder if mothers gazed upon them fantasizing their child was just asleep.
The house contains four floors - these are from the second floor:
Two pics of the front bedroom
The photos in the hallway cabinet between the two bedrooms
the back bedroom
After the event, vraidaae assists the Vicar out of his costume. It seemed a bit naughty!
The museum itself is a 19th century townhouse that once belonged to Seabury Treadwell and family. It has been restored and furnished from the period, and contains portraits of the original inhabitants.
The funeral began in the sitting room, where my friend vraidaae sat in mourning (she works for the museum). Another woman dressed in period wear gave a lecture and then there was a sermon.
The lecture was on medicine, palliative care, views of death and funeral customs of the time. It is, dear readers, a miracle any of us are here at all based on what I learned. For example, the windows and mirrors that were draped in crepe were often soaked first in arsenic to keep the fabric stiff. Small doses of other poisons were also frequently used in medicine. I was aware of this already (for example, lead was used to sweeten wine since the middle ages, and mercury could be found in white foundation makeup). What made this lecture interesting, however, was the notion of palliative care. Since there was little knowledge at the time regarding medicine for treatment, much was accomplished to keep people comfortable while dying. Not for poor Mr. Treadwell, however. It seems there was a tradition within his particular observation of faith (I think he was Episcopalian) of "being ready for G-d" which meant avoiding any sort of induced delirium so that one could pray every day in preparation for meeting one's maker. There was, in fact, a general sentiment at this time of having a constant awareness of death. Considering the high infant mortality rate and high rates of death during childbirth, Death truly was a constant companion. The lecture was at once informative, sobering and deliciously gothic.
After the lecture and service, we walked in a procession to the NYC Marble Cemetery. Pallbearers were solicited from the audience to carry the (empty) wooden casket. It was great fun walking through the streets of NY as onlookers with quizzical faces stared. A few asked what was going on. I walked behind the widow pretending to be her sister and asked people if they knew the deceased. Alas, only one person played along. But vraidaae told me later she had to work hard to keep from laughing and playing with me as she was in fact working the event and not just along for the fun of it.
Another service was held at the cemetery and then we sang a hymn (Nearer my G-d to Thee). Then we were treated to a lecture about burial history and specifics about that cemetery. I've been aching to enter that space for many years now, as it's generally closed to the public. So it was a real treat to walk on the grass and simply be in the space of so much history.
Now, I've been trying to get to this event for several years. So it's quite a miracle that the first time I manage to attend, I wind up in the Style Section of the NY Times. Perhaps it was fate?
In any event, here are some photographs of the day. I took the interior shots with my iPhone using a program called HDR that allows you to make good use of limited lighting. Special thanks to drfardook (whose photos are all B&W) and Ms. Mary Alice for sharing their fine photography of the event.
LARGE picture warning - your bandwidth may need palliative care after this.
Without further adieu, the picspam of Death awaits
vraidaae and I at the tombstone of the Treadwell family
and in front of the portrait of Mr. Seabury Treadwell. I joked he might be looking upon us as his daughters.
a pallbearer
The museum re-enactors pose at the cemetery
Graveside service
A girl and I pose for drfardook in the cemetery
Singing the hymn
In addition to the service, the entire house was decked out in funeral attire. In the upstairs master bedroom they had an exhibit that included the scent of rosemary and flowers typical for use in death at the time, as well as the sound of dripping water as bodies were often placed on ice until burial.
There was a display of photos from the time, including one cabinet of the funerals of children. A sign asked that no photos be taken of the deceased children and mourners. But there was no such request for these family shots of the (then) living, on display in another room. It struck me that the open casket pictures of babies and toddlers in the other cabinet would be the last time parents and siblings would ever see the children again. Considering how novel photography must have been at the time, I was deeply moved imagining this impact. It also gave to my mind an explanation as we don't tend to take pictures at funerals today. And especially not close up shots of dead babies. I wonder if mothers gazed upon them fantasizing their child was just asleep.
The house contains four floors - these are from the second floor:
Two pics of the front bedroom
The photos in the hallway cabinet between the two bedrooms
the back bedroom
After the event, vraidaae assists the Vicar out of his costume. It seemed a bit naughty!