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.
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.