Now! Then! A reporter gains exclusive access to the entombment of Horatio Bright, a Sheffield steel merchant and lapsed Jew, alongside his first wife and only son

6 February 1906: A reporter gains exclusive access to the entombment of Horatio Bright, a Sheffield steel merchant and lapsed Jew, alongside his first wife and only son

Sheffield Daily Telegraph. 1906/02/07. Remarkable Sheffield Funeral. Sheffield. Get it:

Excerpt

One of our reporters had gone out to Moscar Rest even earlier. When he drove up to the little gate leading into the fir plantation surrounding the mausoleum, daylight was just getting strong, although there were still lamps burning at the cottages a little way back. It was a keen, cold morning, with a wind that stung the cheeks. There was a thin layer of snow on the hard, firm road, and away over the silent, lonely moor every little sheltered hillock was outlined in white. The grass and heather were hanging heavily with little frozen beads of snow. Later on the sun struggled up through the heavy bank of dull grey clouds hanging over the valley in the direction of Sheffield. It just pushed a deep crimson edge up over the cloud bank, and then was covered again, as bigger masses of vapour floated over it. But higher in the sky were some fascinating combinations of early morning colouring, soon to disappear as the sun appeared to abandon the effort of rising into full view. There was one solitary watcher by the gate as the reporter drove up. This was the caretaker at the house. He was the only man seen on the long, lonely drive out from Sheffield. He was expecting the funeral procession, and was on the lookout. What few arrangements had had to be made were apparently complete, and he was ready for whatever might happen next. Moscar Rest, the house, stands quite close to the roadside on the right. The mausoleum is on the left immediately opposite. All the blinds at the house were closely drawn. This was one of the very few signs of ordinary mourning that were seen at all. The three children by the second marriage were staying at the house. The late Mr Bright used to be very fond of driving out to this residence, but he rarely, if ever, passed the night there. It was half past eight before the funeral procession came into sight. There was no-one at the gate to receive it but the caretaker, with the reporter not far away. Two carriages formed the procession. From the first, a long, black bus drawn by a pair of horses, came the undertaker’s men, half-a-dozen of them, armed with little trestles for resting the coffin on. Then to the surprise of the reporter, from the floor of the vehicle was drawn forth the coffin. It had been brought up in the same compartment with the undertaker’s men. It was a plain oak coffin, with brass mountings, and a breastplate. From the second carriage had come the representative of the undertaker, with his chief assistants. There were no mourners, no relatives, no friends. The coffin was drawn out, the men hoisted it on their shoulders, the caretaker opened wide the gate, the bearers passed through with their burden, and the caretaker carefully closed the gate behind them. The procession passed slowly, with even tread, down the winding gravel path, with its border of frost-curled rhododendron leaves. In front was the chief representative of the undertaker. Talking together behind were the caretaker and another of the undertaker’s men. No minister, no ceremony, no rites of any kind.

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To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.
Abbreviations:

ER: East Riding
GM: Greater Manchester
NR: North Riding
NY: North Yorkshire
SY: South Yorkshire
WR: West Riding
WY: West Yorkshire

Comment

The scan is from Chris Hobbs, who has a great collection of information on Horatio Bright. The mausoleum is at 53.389403,-1.645310, and was robbed in the 1980s, after which the bodies were reinterred at Crookes Cemetery, not at Ecclesfield Jewish Cemetery as Judy Simons claims (Simons 2021). Mary Alice and Samuel Bright had died in 1891. Hobbs says that Mary Alice “was embalmed and placed in a glass sided coffin. The mausoleum was decorated with pictures, statutes and ornaments and fitted with mahogany panelling. He even installed a small hand operated organ so that he could play funeral music to his departed love ones on his frequent visits.” The organ story may or may not be true, but our reporter specifically rebuts the first two claims. Given Bright’s atheism, or agnosticism, or personal faith, I’m curious who paid for the Methodist chapel adjoining the plantation in which he was laid to rest:

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Original

REMARKABLE SHEFFIELD FUNERAL
Early, Lonely, Moorland Ceremony.
THE LATE MR. HORATIO BRIGHT
(Sheffield Telegraph” Special.)

The late Mr. Horatio Bright, of Sheffield, had what most people would regard as peculiar ideas about the disposal of his body after death. He was strongly averse to anything in the nature of public display. He wanted his death and burial kept as private as possible. He even expressed the wish that nothing should appear in the newspapers about his career after his death: but this wish he seems to have made known only to his family and immediate connections. Such a remarkable man as Mr. Horatio Bright undoubtedly was, however, was bound to attract public attention: and when he died the greatest interest was displayed in his career, and unusual curiosity was aroused concerning his funeral.

This was due to the fact that he had had a private mausoleum erected on a little estate he possessed on the edge of the moor, about a mile beyond Hollow Meadows. Here had been placed the remains of his first wife, and of his only son, and both funerals were unaccompanied by anything in the nature of religious service. This fact, and the secrecy always observed concerning the mausoleum, aroused public curiosity, and all manner of wild stories got abroad poncerning the tomb at Moscar. For instance, it was commonly believed that the bodies had been embalmed, that there was a glass panel in the coffins, and that the faces of the deceased could be seen by visitors to the mausoleum. We are able to absolutely contradict all such stories. They are mere idle imaginings. But they serve to show the sort of inventions which result from too much secrecy.

The Greatest Secrecy Observed.

Every possible effort was made to keep the funeral of the late Mr. Bright yesterday strictly private. The secret was well kept. There are a few small farms and cottages by the roadside near Moscar Rest, the name of the house Mr. Bright erected out on the moor, near the mausoleum, but none of the occupants had got the slightest inkling of the funeral. The only persons in that direction who knew were the caretaker of the house and his wife, and they were as silent as the grave.

In Sheffield no one was allowed to know, except those immediately concerned. No friends were invited to attend to pay their last tribute of respect. To inquirers at the Sheffield residence of the deceased, where he died on Saturday morning, no information was given. Mr. Bright had expressed the desire that the funeral should be absolutely private, and his widow and private secretary did all they knew to secure the observance of his wishes.

So that no public curiosity should be aroused, the funeral was arranged to take place early in the morning. The distance of the mausoleum from Sheffield (eight miles out on the Manchester Road) would have been sufficient to keep most people away, but the relatives felt that all the circumstances were so unusual that a crowd would be sure to collect if the body was conveyed to Moscar Rest at any ordinary time. Consequently, the vehicles with the body and undertakers’ men trotted off from Lydgate Hall, the late residence of the deceased, before half the city was awake.

One of our reporters had gone out to Moscar Rest even earlier. When he drove up to the little gate leading into the fir plantation surrounding tho mausoleum, daylight was just getting strong, although there were still lamps burning at the cottages a little way back. It was a keen, cold morning, with a wind that stung the cheeks. There was a thin layer of snow on the hard, firm road, and away over the silent, lonely moor every little sheltered hillock was outlined in white. The grass and heather were hanging heavily with little frozen beads of snow. Later on the sun struggled up through the heavy bank of dull grey clouds hanging over the valley in the direction of Sheffield. It just pushed a deep crimson edge up over the cloud bank, and then was covered again, as bigger masses of vapour floated over it. But higher in the sky were some fascinating combinations of early morning colouring, soon to disappear as the sun appeared to abandon the effort of rising into full view.

Lonely Watcher at the Gate.

There was one solitary watcher by the gate as the reporter drove up. This was the caretaker at the house. He was the only man seen on the long, lonely drive out from Sheffield. He was expecting the funeral procession, and was on the look out. What few arrangements had had to be made were apparently complete: and he was ready for whatever might happen next. He was very courteous; while all the time strictly observing the careful instructions he had received.

Moscar Rest, the house, stands quite close to the roadside on the right. The mausoleum is on the left immediately opposite. All the blinds at the house were closely drawn. This was one of the very few signs of ordinary mourning that were seen at all. The three children by the second marriage were staying at the house. The mausoleum is almost completely hidden from the road by a thick plantation of fir trees, with rhododendrons and other thick shrubs forming the undergrowth. The gate leading into the mausoleum grounds bears the name “Moscar Rest,” exactly as the house does. The late Mr. Bright used to be very fond of driving out to this residence, but he rarely, if ever, passed the night there. He drove out from Sheffield during the day, and returned in the evening.

Strange Procession.

It was half past eight o’clock before the funeral procession came into sight. It had been expected anywhen after half-past seven. There was no one at the gate to receive it but the caretaker, with the reporter not far away. The neighbours apparently anticipated nothing. There were no idle lookers-on. Two carriages formed the procession. From the first, a long, black bus drawn by a pair of horses, came the undertaker’s (Mr. Reuben Thompson) men, half-a-dozen of them, armed with little tressels for resting the coffin on. Then to the surprise of the reporter, from the floor of the vehicle was drawn forth the coffin. It had been brought up in the same compartment with the undertaker’s men.

It was a plain oak coffin, with brass mountings, and a breastplate, on which was inscribed:-

HORATIO BRIGHT,
Died Feb. 3, 1906.
Aged 77 years.

From the second carriage had come the representative of the undertaker, with his chief assistants. There were no mourners, no relatives, no friends. The coffin was drawn out, the men hoisted it on their shoulders, the caretaker opened wide the gate, the bearers passed through with their burden, and the caretaker carefully closed the gate behind them. The procession passed slowly, with even tread, down the winding gravel path, with its border of frost-curled rhododendron leaves. In front was the chief representative of the undertaker; talking together behind were the caretaker and another of the undertaker’s men. No minister, no ceremony, no rites of any kind.

The men passed straight into the beautifully decorated little mausoleum, and placed the coffin on the floor, covering a coffin-shape specially marked out for it. On the right was the marble sarcophagus containing the remains of the first wife of the deceased: on the left was a similar tomb holding all that is mortal of his only son, who died some years ago. The coffin of the deceased was placed midway between them, in the position it is to permanently occupy. It will be built around, and completely encased in marble. There was just time to get of the interior of the little mausoleum, which is very artistically decorated, and has portraits of members of the family on some very beautiful statuary.

Not long after the body had been taken into the mausoleum, another carriage and pair drove up. This contained the widow and two other ladies, as well as the deceased’s secretary. They pulled up for a moment at the gate leading to the mausoleum, but did not alight. The carriage passed on to the house, where the ladies joined the children.

Later on the men went to the house for refreshments before returning; and so was carried out one of the most remarkable funerals ever held in Sheffield.

1457 words.