Why did the English lords get a hobo in the garden?

If we were Victorian (as well as Edwardian and Georgian) aristocrats, we would definitely have a bum living in my garden. More precisely, a vagabond and a drunkard who comes dressed as a druid - with a beard and all sorts of Celtic attributes.

We would equip him with a great cave with amenities. The tramp would sit surrounded by skulls, lanterns and other occult paraphernalia, would frighten the guests with vague prophecies. On Sundays we would come to him with a full bag of pies and a keg of ale.

It looks, of course, like a sick decadent fantasy, but in ancient times it was about the same. Not every choosy nobleman, of course, but many of them had such an “attraction” in their gardens. It was a “Real” hermit, a druid who honored a modest aristocrat with his attention and settled in his lands, untouched by the vulgarity of civilization.

This, of course, was a cheap show off. But to the lords, this seemed an incredibly elegant and status thing: “They say that a real hermit lives in the possessions of Baron Kensington, they say that he is a former pirate and hangman, but he realized his sinfulness and went to live in a cave to atone for sins. He also reads tarot and sees the future! Well, who would not want such stories to be told about his summer cottage?

In reality, everything was much more vulgar: a man with a beard, preferably with crazier appearance, sometimes from peasants (that is, not even necessarily homeless), was taken, dressed up outlandishly and settled in the lord's garden. A small payment and a rather dull life were brightened up by the fact that this was a stable income. And sometimes compassionate cooks would drag something from the master's table. Well, that was quite a profession!

The phenomenon turned out to be so widespread that it was enough for a whole book. Historian Gordon Campbell of the University of Leicester in England published “The Hermit in the Garden: From Imperial Rome to Ornamental Gnome”.

According to the professor, the first “professional hermit” known in history appeared in ancient Rome. At least one such hermit lived in the residence of Emperor Hadrian in Tivoli. There was a small picturesque lake, and the hermit lived there in a specially built hut. In the 16th century, the ruins of Tivoli were discovered by the servants of Pope Pius IV. He was offered to follow in the footsteps of the emperor and also get himself a “court bum”. The Pope seemed to agree, but on the condition that the hobo prayed tirelessly.

In the 18th century, the fashion to keep a homeless in one’s garden spread to many estates. It sounds like amazing absurdity, but "druids" were even hired by ad. One such is preserved in Sir William Gell's “A Journey Through the Lakes Made in 1797”. Pay attention to the requirements for the candidate: “The hermit must never leave his place and not talk to anyone for seven years, during which he must not wash or cleanse himself in any way, and also must grow his hair and fingernails and toenails as much as nature allows.

In a 1784 guide to Sir Richard Hill's Hoxstone estate in Shropshire, a description of the life of a garden hermit has been preserved. There they organized a rather cool entourage for him: a majestic bearded man received guests, sitting at a table on which a skull, an hourglass, a book and glasses flaunted. The “Druid” was named Francis, he walked barefoot, looked about 90 years old, was quite sociable, but rarely polite.

In some estates, a hermit could be replaced by a mannequin (and even an automaton!). Somewhere they limited themselves to a cave, which was furnished as if a mysterious recluse lives in it, but he (literally just now, honestly!) went out somewhere on his own business.

The question remains: why exactly a hermit, and why exactly in the 18th and 19th centuries in England? Professor Gordon Campbell answers simply: "Georgian melancholy!" Among the elite in that era, such features as "romantic nihilism", mystery and gloominess of spirit were fashionable. And the homestead hermit was perfect for demonstrating these qualities to the guests. In other words, keeping your own crazy druid was gothic as hell.