X.
A large clay jar filled with water, placed outside the door of Polycles’ dwelling, announced the next morning, to all who passed, that the mansion was a house of mourning. While the female slaves were perfuming and dressing the dead man, Polycles was talking with Myrtale about Simonides’ last will.
Myrtale had no brother, but was a so-called inheriting daughter.[W] As there was no kinsman whom she could wed and endow with her fortune, Simonides had bequeathed his whole property, amounting to twenty talents, to his friend Polycles on condition that he should marry Myrtale. If Polycles was not willing to do this, he was to inherit only two talents and then use his best judgment in choosing a husband for the young girl who, in such a case, was to keep all the rest of the fortune as a dowry.
[W] In Athens, daughters inherited only in default of male heirs.
Much as Myrtale was absorbed in her grief, she felt the importance of the arrangements which would decide her fate. So it was a great relief to her when Polycles said that he was too old to take a young wife and, moreover, had been warned in a dream against marrying again. One night in his sleep he had seen his house decked with garlands as though for a bridal; but when he was leading the bride home the green wreath vanished and, in its place above the door, hung an oil-jar, twined with a blue ribbon, as though for an offering at a tomb. The interpreter of dreams being consulted had said that if Polycles married he would die on his wedding day.
Polycles then asked the young girl to consider him a second father, and added that he would not act against her wishes in the choice of a bridegroom.
During the day another shock of earthquake was felt, and though it did no damage except to open cracks in the ancient walls of the city, universal terror was aroused. Some fled to the market-place, and others, fearing another flood, to the nearest heights. This dread, however, proved groundless. On the contrary, the water in the inundated streets began to fall so rapidly that the boats were obliged to follow it in haste, and by noon they were again lying at their usual place, moored to the lime-stone quay, though this quay no longer rose so far above the surface of the tide and the whole of the old shore, with its pebbles, sea-weed, and mussel-shells, remained under the waves.
Simonides’ funeral was conducted as beseemed a wealthy family. The corpse, crowned with myrtle and resting on embroidered pillows, was displayed upon a couch, where it was seen during the day by a throng of citizens, old and young, rich and poor, some of the latter clad in grey or black clothes with closely cut hair, asserting by this mourning garb a distant relationship.
On the day of the funeral obsequies hundreds of persons assembled outside the house and, before the sun rose, the funeral procession started amid the mournful notes of Carian flutes, alternating with a chorus of men’s voices. This choir was followed by the dead man’s friends and acquaintances, numbering more than half the citizens of the place. Then came the bier, an ivory bed, borne by friends and freedmen, among them Lycon, to whom many hands pointed and many lips mentioned as the “preserver of the city, the quick-witted Athenian.” On the ivory couch lay the dead man, robed in white and covered with so many wreaths and blue and red sacrifice ribbons, that the magnificent purple carpet in which he was wrapped could scarcely be seen. By the side of the bier walked slaves bearing oil jars, boxes of ointment, and other articles belonging to the funeral rites. Then came a few elderly kinswomen, for Myrtale was too young to follow the corpse. The train was closed by a few sacrifice attendants in short parti-colored mantles and light half boots, who bore on their heads small offering-tables covered with offerings of the same kind as those the slaves carried beside the bier.
At the farthest end of Polycles’ garden the funeral train stopped on a height which afforded a view of the city, harbor, bay, and country beyond. This had always been Simonides’ favorite spot, and he had often expressed a desire to be laid to rest here.
At the foot of the hill was seen the huge funeral pyre, a heap of logs filled with combustible materials. After it had been adorned with the jars, vases, and dishes brought, and the bier lifted upon it, it was lighted by torches. Amid the sobs and wails of the spectators, the flames flared high into the air and in an instant the smoke and red blaze enveloped the bier, concealing it from every eye. Many an oil jar, many a box of ointment was now flung upon the fire as a last token of affection and, when it was once more possible to see the pyre, the bier had crumbled into a dark, shapeless mass, from which rose a column of black smoke.
The majority of the procession returned to Polycles’ house and there, as the dead man’s guests, partook of a festal banquet. Some few, among them Lycon, remained until the ashes were collected and the bones committed to the bosom of the earth.
Three days after the first, and nine days after the second offering to the dead was brought to the grave. About a week later a marble column was erected upon it, crowned with a capital made of colored acanthus leaves. The thirtieth day after the funeral obsequies Myrtale twined the memorial column with blue and red sacrifice ribbons from which hung small oil jars, after which she poured milk, honey, spring-water, and mixed wine on the ground as a sacrifice to the rich man’s shade, taking careful heed to throw each one of the vessels she had used over her shoulder, so that they were shattered, for none of the articles which had served at a funeral ceremonial could be used by the living.
With this offering the time of mourning ended.