* Speaking of the ancient Irish funeral, Mr. Walker
observes;—“Women, whose voices recommended them, were taken
from the lower classes of life, and instructed in music, and
cursios, or eligiac measure, that they might assist in
heightening the melancholy which that ceremony was
calculated to inspire. This custom prevailed among the
Hebrews, from whom it is not improbable we had it
immediately.”
Dr. Campbell is of opinion that the Ululate or hullalor of
the choral burden of the Caoine, and the Greek word of the
same import, have a strong affinity to each other.—Phil.
Sur. South of Ireland, Letters 2, 3.
“The lower order of Irish,” she returned, “entertain a kind of posthumous pride respecting their funerals; and from sentiments that I have heard them express, I really believe there are many among them who would prefer living neglected to the idea of dying unmourned, or unattended, by a host to their last home.” To my astonishment she then descended the bank, and, accompanied by the priest, mingled with the crowd.
“This will surprise you,” said Glorvina; “but it is wise to comply with those prejudices which we cannot vanquish. And by those poor people it is not only reckoned a mark of great disrespect not to follow a funeral (met by chance) a few paces, but almost a species of impiety.”
“And mankind, you know,” added the priest, “are always more punctilious with respect to ceremonials than fundamentals. However, you should see an Irish Roman Catholic funeral; to a Protestant and a stranger it must be a spectacle of some interest.
“With respect to the attendant ceremonies on death,” he continued, “I know of no country which the Irish at present resemble but the modern Greeks. In both countries when the deceased dies unmarried, the young attendants are chiefly dressed in white, carrying garlands, and strewing flowers as they proceed to the grave. Those old women who sing before the body are professional improvisatori; they are called Caoiners or Keeners, from the Canine or death song, and are hired to celebrate the virtues of the deceased. Thus we find St. Chrysostom censuring the Greeks of his day, for the purchased lamentations and hireling mourners that attend their funerals. And so far back with us as in the days of druidical influence, we find it was part of the profession of the bards to perform the funeral ceremonies, to sing to their harps the virtues of the dead, and call on the living to emulate their deeds. * This you may remember as a custom frequently alluded to in the poems of Ossian. ** Pray observe that frantic woman who tears her hair And beats her bosom: ’tis the mother of the deceased. She is following her only child to an early grave; and did you understand the nature of her lamentations you would compare them to the complaints of the mother of Euriales, in the Æneid: the same passionate expressions of sorrow, and the same wild extravagance of grief. They even still most religiously preserve here that custom never lost among the Greeks, of washing the body before interment, and strewing it with flowers.”
* The Caoine, or funeral song was, composed by the Filea of
the departed, set to music by one of his oirfidegh, and sung
over the grave by the racasaide, or rhapsodist, who
accompanied his “song of the tomb” with the mourning murmur
of his harp, while the inferior order of minstrels mingled
their deep-toned chorus with the strain of grief, and the
sighs of lamenting relatives breathed in unison to the
tuneful sorrow. Thus was “the stones of his fame,” raised
over the remains of the Irish chief with a ceremony
resembling that with which the death of the Trojan hero was
lamented,=
“A melancholy choir attend around,
With plaintive sighs and music’s solemn sound.”
But the singular ceremonies of the Irish funeral, which are
even still in a certain degree extant, may be traced to a
remoter antiquity than Grecian o right, for the pathetic
lamentations of David for the friend of his soul, and the
conclamatio breathed over the Phoenician Dido, has no faint
coincidence to the Caoine or funeral song of the Irish.
** Thus over the tomb of Cucullin vibrated the song of the
bard, “Blessed be thy soul, son of Semo! thou wert mighty in
battle; thy strength was like the strength of the stream,
thy speed like the speed of the eagle’s wing, thy path in
battle was terrible, the steps of death were behind thy
sword; blessed be thy soul son of Semo! Carborne ohicf of
Dunscaith. The mighty were dispersed at Timo-ra—there is
none in Cormac’s hall. The king mourns in his youth, for he
does not behold thy coming; the sound of thy shield is
ceased, his foes are gathering around, Soft be thy rest in
thy cave, chief of Erin’s wars.”
“And have you also,” said I, “the funeral feast, which among the Greeks composed so material a part of the funeral ceremonies?”