After the work was done, I called him aside. “You have lost an excellent master,” said I. The fellow looked warily round, and, perceiving that he was not overheard, replied, in an undertone—“No massa, he bad mule—big old villain—me glad the debble got him.” Having thus relieved himself of his feelings, he hastened to join the gang, and I soon saw him, as they filed off, on their way back to the plantation, throwing his brawny arms aloft, and joining in the cry—“Oh, what kind, good massa he was!” Upon inquiry, I learned, that this planter was a very bad mule indeed, a merciless old taskmaster.
Not more than ten flute players were allowed, at a funeral, by the Twelve Tables. The flutes and trumpets were large and of lugubrious tones; thus Ovid, Fast. vi. 660: Cantabat mœstis tibia funeribus; and Am. ii. 66: Pro longa resonent carmina vestra tuba.
Nothing appears more incomprehensible, in connection with this subject, than the employment of players and buffoons, by the ancients, at their funerals. This practice is referred to, by Suetonius, in his Life of Tiberius, sec. 57. We are told by Dyonisius, vii. 72, that these Ludii, Histriones, and Scurræ danced and sang. One of this class of performers was a professed mimic, and was styled Archimimus. Strange as such a proceeding may appear to us, it was his business, to imitate the voice, manner, and gestures of the defunct; he supported the dead man’s character, and repeated his words and sayings. In the Life of Vespasian, sec. 19, Suetonius thus describes the proceeding: In funere, Favor, archimimus, personam ejus ferens, imitansque, ut est mos, facta ac dicta vivi, etc. This Favor must have been a comical fellow, and is as free with the dead, as Killigrew, Charles the Second’s jester, was, with the living; as the reader will perceive, if he will refer to the passage in Suetonius: for the fellow openly cracks his jokes, on the absurd expense of the funeral. This, we should suppose, was no subject for joking, if we may believe the statement of Pliny, xxxiii. 47, that one C. Cæcillius Claudius, a private citizen, left rather more than nine thousand pounds sterling, by his will, for his funeral expenses.
After the archimimus, came the freemen of the deceased, pileati; that is, wearing their caps of liberty. Men, not unfrequently, as a last act, to swell their funeral train, freed their slaves. Before the corpse, were carried the images of the defunct and of his ancestors, but not of such, as had been found guilty of any heinous crime. Thus Tacitus, ii. 32, relates, that the image of Libo was not permitted to accompany the obsequies of any of his posterity.
The origin of the common practice of marching at military funerals, with arms reversed, is of high antiquity. Thus Virgil xi. 93, at the funeral of Pallas—versis Arcades armis: and upon another occasion, versi fasces occur in Tacitus iii. 2, referring to the lictors.
In our cities and large towns, the corpse is commonly borne to the grave, in a hearse, or on the shoulders of paid bearers. Originally it was otherwise. The office of supporting the body to the grave was supposed to belong, of right, and duty, to relatives and friends; or, in the case of eminent persons, to public functionaries. Thus, in Tacitus, iii. 2, we find the expression, tribunorum centurionumque humeris cineres portabantur: and, upon the death of Augustus, Tac. i. 8, it was carried by acclamation, as we moderns say, corpus ad rogum humeris senatorum ferendum.
The conduct of both sexes, at funerals, was, in some respects, rather ridiculous, in those days. Virgil says of King Latinus, when he lost his wife,
————it, scissa veste, Latinus,
Canitiem immundo perfusam pulvere turpans;
which means, in plain English, that the old monarch went about, with his coat torn, defiling his white hair with filthy dust.
Cicero, in his Tusculan Questions, iii. 26, is entirely of this opinion: detestabilia genera lugendi, pædores, muliebres lacerationes genarum, pectoris, feminum, capitis percussiones—detestable kinds of mourning, covering the body with filth, women tearing their cheeks, bosoms, and limbs, and knocking their heads. Tibullus, in the concluding lines of his charming elegy to Delia, the first of his first book, though he evidently derives much happiness, from the conviction, that she will mourn for him, and weep over his funeral pile, implores her to spare her lovely cheeks and flowing hair. No classical reader will censure me, for transcribing this very fine passage: