WHEN THE END COMES
Though life is held very cheaply in Corsica, mourning and burials are
attended with a great deal of ceremony. It is a fairly general rule
throughout the world that, as a race becomes more and more civilized,
the ceremonies connected with death and burial become simpler and
simpler. In many respects Corsica is not a civilized country, and its
inhabitants mourn for their dead much after the fashion that Jacob
mourned for the death of Joseph, or David for the deaths of Saul and
Jonathan.
When it is thought that a man is about to die, a candle is lit, and the
sign of the cross is made with it over the body. Then the relatives
wait in solemn silence until life has passed away. But at the very
moment when the last breath has been drawn the women come close to
the bedside, burst into sobs, and utter loud cries of sorrow. The men
remain perfectly still and quiet, and it would be difficult to tell
from any change in their manner that they are at all affected by their
loss. Sometimes the women lose all control of themselves, roll upon
the floor, and even beat and bruise their own bodies.
While the corpse is still warm the eyes are closed, and a handkerchief
is passed under the chin and tied above the head to close the mouth. It
is dressed in its best clothes and laid upon a funeral couch.
In former times the funeral couch was an ordinary table, because in the
poor houses of the village there was never any unnecessary furniture.
Nowadays the body is placed, when possible, upon a couch or sofa in one
of the living-rooms of the house.
If a person dies in the evening, after sunset, the noise of the wailing
soon ceases. During the night prayers are said around the body. Only
the women enter the chamber; the men remain silent and serious in
a neighbouring room. Towards midnight, or about one o’clock in the
morning, a light meal is served which varies in different districts. At
Ajaccio it consists of anchovies in vinegar, bread, wine, cheese, and
a cup of coffee. In certain villages it consists of cakes of a kind of
sweet cheese called _broccia_, which is made from the milk of goats.
As soon as the dawn comes, loud cries are heard, and dirges are chanted
without ceasing until the body is taken away. These funeral songs are
called _voceri_ or _ballata_. They are composed on the spot by women
members of the family who possess the gift. If there is no relative
of the dead who is able to do this, a friend or neighbour is asked to
undertake the duty. In the songs questions are addressed to the dead
man just as though he were alive; all the chief incidents in his life
are recounted; his features and his virtues are described; and if he
has been murdered the relatives are incited to take vengeance.
The appearance of the singer is mournful in the extreme. Her eyes are
red with tears, and her face is convulsed with grief. She tears her
hair violently, stoops down over the body, kisses it, calls it by
name, and sways from side to side, all the time shrieking at the top
of her voice. Other mourners arrive, all in black. On the threshold
of the chamber they stop, raise their hands towards the heavens, and
cry three times with all their might the name of the dead. Then they
go forward, bathed in tears. When they reach the bed, they stoop to
kiss the body and the relatives, and do their best in broken tones to
mutter words of sympathy and consolation. They take their places in the
circle of figures upon the floor, and the penetrating shrieks and cries
are heard once more. All this time the _voceratrice_ is chanting the
praises of the dead. When she is exhausted, she sinks upon a chair, and
calls one of the mourners by name to take her place and continue the
lamentations. So it goes on for hours, one after the other chanting the
songs of misery and woe.
[Illustration: ROADSIDE CROSS.]
People passing by the house hear, but give little heed to all this
clamour. They are used to it. Barry says: “One fine day when I was
strolling about, and nearing a place where the washerwomen wash, I
heard a succession of piercing shrieks, and, turning my steps in
the direction of the sounds, perceived the clothes and figure of a
female rolling about in the dust of the road. The said female, who was
respectably dressed, and who seemed to be a girl of about sixteen or
seventeen, would from time to time rise from the ground, walk a few
steps in the direction of the town, and then again throw herself down,
casting handfuls of dirt over her head, tearing out her hair, which was
perfectly dishevelled, and frantically screaming all the while, though
none of the washerwomen took the least notice, ‘My sister is dead! My
sister is dead!’”
It can easily be imagined that when a man has been assassinated the
wailing and the chanting are more violent than usual. In 1896 a
celebrated bandit was killed. In the night, his wife, his sister, and
his cousins went to the village where his body was publicly exposed.
They howled like tigresses in the silence of the night, and their cries
were so piercing and so full of sorrow that all the people of the town
were awakened in great fright, and shivered with terror.
On the morning of the funeral, when the bearers come to take the body
away, the noise is terrible; the women huddle together at the windows,
tear their hair, scratch their faces, and hurl violent adieus after the
hearse. The funeral is arranged to take place at an hour when as many
people as possible can see it, and, for the same reason, the longest
way to the cemetery is chosen. In a big town the bells will play a
merry tune; a band will deafen the spectators with its not too solemn
music; and a long procession of choir-boys and clergymen in white, and
of bands of men with white cowls and scarlet tippets, walks rather
joyfully behind the bier. The procession does not always continue as
far as the cemetery. When the spectators along the road-side thin out,
the procession breaks up, and its members come back to feast. Even
the clergy return with hurried footsteps, as if anxious not to miss
any of the good things that are provided on these occasions. There is
little solemnity and sometimes little decency about the whole of the
proceedings. Members of the procession will smoke cigars both going and
coming, and there is always a bit of a scramble for a ride home again
in the vacant hearse.
On the return from the cemetery, a funeral banquet is served, which
often causes the expenditure of a large sum of money, for everyone who
attends the funeral expects to share in the feast. It is a matter of
family pride that the feast shall be as grand as possible, and poor
people will kill their last few cows and sheep in order that they shall
not be accused of being mean and stingy at such a time. Rich men will
not only provide a feast, but give presents as well. At Ajaccio the
custom of the funeral banquet has almost disappeared, but gourds of
wine, biscuits and cigars, are placed in the hearse and are carried to
the cemetery, where they are consumed and enjoyed by the poor.
It is considered a matter of great importance that one should be buried
in the proper clothes, and when a man is supposed to be in danger, the
family at once begin to make his shroud, and even carry on their work
in the room where the sick person lies.
Black is worn as a sign of mourning, as in other European countries. As
murders are so common, it can safely be said that in almost any town or
village in Corsica you can see more people in black than in any other
town or village of the same size in Europe. The period of mourning for
a near relative is, amongst the women, from four to five years. After
a second bereavement they never wear coloured clothes again. Even the
children are oftener dressed in black than in any other colour, so that
to a land which Nature has decked with every beautiful tint and hue,
man has added nothing but a sombre and distressing black.