Memento Mori

Ever since I first learned about Victorian post-mortem photography, I've been fascinated. Earlier this year, I read a book which includes numerous examples of the practice.  I have wanted to start collecting it, but I didn't want to be seen as a weirdo who scours Ebay, looking for sad photos of long-dead people. However, I knew that if I ever happened to come across one in my travels or treks to antique stores, then it would be organic and I know I would appreciate it as a historical artifact that represents a story.

Last Sunday, I was at my local Goodwill and I noticed a dozen or so old photos and cabinet cards on display. I always enjoy antique photos because I like to imagine who the people may have been, or what they may have been like in their lifetime.

I came across one showing a young woman holding a baby, wrapped in white.

If I were not familiar with the Victorian era commonness of documenting loved ones after death, then I may not have imagined it, because the woman looks very serene, with almost a slight smile on her lips.

There is nothing written on the photo to confirm my assumption, but the prevalence of these types of photos makes it the most obvious scenario.

Due to the expense involved in getting a family to a photographer's studio, Victorian era parents rarely had portraits taken in 'good times'. If the children were well and healthy, then there was no need to have their picture taken. However, in an age where diseases such as whooping cough, scarlet fever, diphtheria and others constantly threatened the lives of children, death was sadly commonplace. Parents often had portraits taken of their lost children because the photo was the only picture they would have to remember them by.

I know that many people think this a macabre hobby, but as a historian I can glean so much insight into a by-gone society from this once-popular art. And as someone who has always been sentimental, and is now a mother to a young child, I feel compelled to appreciate this photo for what it represents. 

The baby may not have lived very long, but I doubt the mother loved him any less. My son is only three, but I have innumerable pictures of him: on my computer, in our home, on my Facebook and Instagram.  .  .we are able to take photos without even thinking about it. This is probably the only photos taken of that baby; it may even be the only picture taken of the mother, or at least the only picture that remains of her. She must have treasured it.

I think we all like to imagine that the things we treasure will continue to be treasured by others when we are gone; that is why we hand wedding gowns, ratty teddy bears, hand-knitted blankets and other things down in our families. We don't save them and hand them down hoping that someone will say "I don't need this" and toss it away.

I have other antique photos and even though I don't know the people in them, I don't mind being a surrogate guardian of these treasures.