Читать книгу The History of Dealings with the Dead - Lucius M. Sargent - Страница 7

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Closing the eyes of the dead and composing the mouth were deemed of so much importance, of old, that Agamemnon’s ghost made a terrible fuss, because his wife, Clytemnestra, had neglected these matters, as you will see, in your Odyssey, L. V. v. 419. It was usual for the last offices to be performed by the nearest relatives. After washing and anointing the body, the guests covered it with the pallium, or common cloak—the Romans used the toga—the Hebrews wrapped the body in linen. Virgil tells us, that Misenus was buried, in the clothes he commonly wore.

Membra toro deffeta reponunt,

Purpureasque super vestes velamina nota

Conjiciunt.

This would seem very strange with us; yet it is usual in some other countries, at this day. I have often seen the dead, thus laid out, in Santa Cruz—coat, neckcloth, waistcoat, pantaloons, boots, and gloves. I was never a sexton there, but noted these matters as an amateur. Chaplets and flowers were cast upon the dead, by the Greeks and Romans. The body was exhibited, or laid in state, near the entrance of the house, that all might see there had been no foul play. While thus lying, it was carefully watched. The body of every man, who died in debt, at Athens, was liable to be seized by creditors. Miltiades died in jail. His son, Cimon, could not pay his father’s debts; he therefore assumed his debts and fetters, that his father might have funeral rites. Some time before interment, a piece of money, an obolus, was put in the mouth of the corpse, as Charon’s fee. In the mouth was also placed a cake, made of flour and honey, to appease Cerberus. Instead of crape upon the knocker, some of the hair of the deceased was placed upon the door, to indicate a house of mourning. A vessel of water was placed before the door, until the corpse was removed, that all who touched the dead might wash therein. This is in accordance with the Jewish usage. Achilles was burnt on the eighteenth day after his death. The upper ten thousand were generally burnt on the eighth, and buried on the ninth. Common folks were dealt with more summarily. When ready for the pile, the body was borne forth on a bier. The Lacedemonians bore it on shields. The Athenians celebrated their obsequies before sunrise. Funerals, in some of our cities, are celebrated in the morning. The Greeks and Romans were very extravagant, like the Irish. If baked meats and Chian and Falernian cost less than in more modern times—still sumptuary laws were found necessary. Pittacus made such, at Mytelene. The women crowded so abominably, at the funerals in Athens, that Solon excluded all women, under threescore years, from gadding after such ceremonies. Robes of mourning were sometimes worn; not always. Thousands followed the bodies of Timoleon and Aratus, in white garments, bedecked with garlands, with songs of triumph and dances, rejoicing, that they were received into Elysium.

After the funeral, they abstained from banquets and entertainments. Admetus says they avoided whatever bore an air of mirth or pleasure, for some time. They sequestered themselves from company. It is particularly stated, by Archbishop Potter, that “wine was too great a friend of cheerfulness to gain admission into so melancholy a society.” If Old Hundred had been known to the Jews, it would, I dare say, have been considered highly appropriate—but their good taste was such, that I much doubt, if, in the short space of eight and forty hours, they would have mingled sacra profanis, so very comically, as to bring champagne and Old Hundred together. The Greek mourners often cut off their hair, and cast it upon the funeral pile. This custom was also followed by the Romans. They sometimes threw themselves upon the ground, to express their sorrow. Like some of the Eastern nations, they put ashes upon their heads. They beat their breasts, tore their flesh, and scratched their faces, with their nails. For this, Dionysius says, the women were more remarkable, than the men.

Burning and embalming, the latter of which was a costly business, were practised among the Greeks and Romans; the latter much more frequently, among the Eastern nations. We talk of getting these matters thoroughly discussed, ere long, before the Sextons’ board, to see if it may not be well, to bring them into use again. I will send you the result.

In regard to the use of wine and other intoxicating drinks, at funerals, we much more closely resemble the Lacedemonians now, than we did some thirty years ago. When I was a boy, and was at an academy in the country, everybody went to everybody’s funeral, in the village. The population was small—funerals rare—the preceptor’s absence would have excited remark, and the boys were dismissed, for the funeral. A table with liquors was always provided. Every one, as he entered, took off his hat, with his left hand, smoothed down his hair, with his right, walked up to the coffin, gazed upon the corpse, made a crooked face, passed on to the table, took a glass of his favorite liquor, went forth upon the plat, before the house, and talked politics, or of the new road, or compared crops, or swapped heifers or horses, until it was time to lift. Twelve years ago, a clergyman of Newburyport told me, that, when settled in Concord, N. H., some years before, he officiated at the funeral of a little boy. The body was borne, as is quite common, in a chaise, and six little nominal pall-bearers, the oldest not thirteen, walked by the side of the vehicle. Before they left the house, a sort of master of ceremonies took them to the table, and mixed a tumbler of gin, water and sugar, for each.

There is in this city a worthy man—I shall not name him—the doctor’s and the lawyer’s callings are not more confidential than ours. He used to attend every funeral, as an amateur. He took his glass invariably, and always had some good thing to say of the defunct. “A great loss,” he would say, with a sad shake of his head, as he turned off the heel-tap. I have not seen him at a funeral, for several years. We met about five months ago. “Ah, Mr. Abner,” said he, “temperance has done for funerals.”