The High-Castes sometimes set up monuments in public places; in Temples and the Temple-burial grounds; and inscribe thereon lofty panegyrics, as false in fact as they are bad in style—and no more thought is given to them. In truth, these monuments are always considered to be to the honour of the living—who take the occasion to display their own wealth, characters, titles, or taste.
The Lower-Castes do but little more than hurry to the grave the dead body, and dismiss the "unpleasant topic" as quickly as possible—imitating as well as they are able the High-Caste, by setting up a Stone-slab, carved with a ruder but not truer description. Couplets in verse are often added; and, as giving an idea of the humorous and coarse conceit of the Barbarian mind, I will insert some of these Inscriptions.
Often the slabs are flat upon the ground, and the tombs ruinous and neglected; in fact, very generally the burial-places, though holy, are in a wretched condition—tombs fallen, stones and tablets prostrated, graves quite worn away by the careless feet of passers; the whole place wearing a sad air of utter neglect and forgetfulness. One discovers a better culture making some progress, by curiously regarding these stones, inscribed with memorials of the dead. They have slowly become less uncouth, less barbarous, and less devoted to the wildest vagaries of the Superstition. However, this observation is to be taken in a very general sense.
Often, in the country, I have stumbled upon a singularly-built old stone Temple—standing quite alone, with the tombs and the tablets of the dead, clustering beneath the shadow of the lofty, square tower of hewn stone. Upon the hill-side, with a lovely view of hills, and soft vales, and rich fields of ripening corn, and scattered groves—with green meadows divided by flowering shrubs, where the flocks and the cattle fed. Near by, orchards, white and pink in blossoms; and all the air fragrant with a delicate perfume. At my feet, a few houses nestling among lofty elms—far away to the West, the sun shining above with slanting rays across a wide expanse of beauty—sitting upon a stone bench, beneath the ivy-covered Temple-porch, I have looked upwards to the serene sky, and outwards upon the tranquil and lovely scene; and I have known no Barbarian rudeness, felt no Barbarian Idolatry. The solemn Temple, eloquent in silence, the unbroken rest of the dead, the calm and delightful presence of Nature, these were here, these are there; man unites his grateful worship across the wide world—the Sovereign Lord is worshipped, though darkly, by these Barbarians! And in this worship (in time to be purified) we are one!
But I must give some specimens of Barbarian Inscriptions—by them called Epitaphs, when written to the dead—taken from tablets in places of burial.
"Here lies an old maid, Hannah Myers;
She was rather cross, and not over pious;
Who died at the age of threescore and ten,
And gave to the grave what she denied to the men!"
Another:—
"Poor Mary Baines has gone away,
'Er would if 'er could but a couldn't stay!
'Er 'ad two sore legs, and a baddish cough,
But 'er legs it were as carried her off!"
Here is one which refers to certain mineral [zi-kli] waters, prized by the Barbarians for curative properties:—