[NOTE 79.]
I approach the women who were following the body.
Literally, the women who were walking after the body. Though those women who were hired to follow a corpse, walked in procession, it was very usual in Greece, to attend funerals in carriages, and on horseback: but Chrysis, not being represented as a citizen, the ceremonies, in respect to the procession, must be supposed to be different. The interment of the dead was considered of such extreme importance throughout the whole of Greece, that to want the rites of sepulture, was deemed by the natives of that country, a much greater misfortune than even death itself. The Greeks (and many other nations) believed that the spirit of a person whose corpse was unburied, could never obtain admittance to the Elysian fields: their imaginary place of reward for virtuous men after death. Two different methods of disposing of the dead prevailed in Greece. The most ancient of the two (as is generally allowed,) was much the same as the modern practice, the corpse was interred in a coffin, and deposited in the earth. The other mode was to burn the body, and to preserve the ashes. The Athenians seem to have used both methods indiscriminately: their funerals were usually conducted by torch-light. On the third or fourth day after death, (though the time was varied according to circumstances,) the corpse was placed on a bier, with the feet towards the door; and an obolus put into its mouth, to defray the passage across the Styx: a certain form of words was then pronounced over the body, which was afterwards carried out, and followed by the mourners: those of the same sex as the deceased were to be nearest the corpse: when it was placed on the pile, and a second form of words recited over it, some one of the mourners, (usually the nearest relation,) applied a torch to the wood; and, if the deceased was of high rank, animals of various kinds, and sometimes even human victims, were slaughtered, and thrown into the flames. The ashes of the dead were collected from the extinguished pile into an urn, and with some further ceremonies deposited in a sepulchre. The Romans burned their dead in a similar manner. For a further mention of Greek funerals, vide Notes [77], [78], [80], [81].
[NOTE 80.]
We follow, and arrive at the tomb.
Tombs, called by the Greeks τάφοι, or τύμβοι, which signify both the grave and the monument, were not allowed to be within the city of Athens, but were placed either in the public burial-place, or in private grounds belonging to the relatives of the deceased: it was not unusual to erect them by the road side at some distance from the city, whence the expression, so common on monuments, Siste Viator, Stay Traveller. The public burial-place of the Athenians was in that part of the Ceramicus situated beyond the city: it was very extensive. The other part of the Ceramicus contained the old forum, called ἀρχαία ἀγορὰ.
The corpse is placed on the pile, and quickly enveloped in flames; they weep; while the sister I was speaking of, rushed forward, in an agony of grief, toward the fire; and her imprudence exposed her to great danger.
An eminent English poet, Sir Richard Steele, has endeavoured to adapt Terence’s Andrian to the taste of an English audience, and has succeeded in that attempt, in his play, called The Conscious Lovers, as well as circumstances would permit. A French poet of equal eminence, Monsieur Baron, has made a similar attempt in French verse, and has met with equal success in his Andrienne: he has kept much closer to the original than has Sir Richard Steele; indeed, many scenes of the Andrienne are a literal version of Terence. I purpose to point out the most material changes which the two modern poets have made in the incidents: the bent of the dramatic taste of the nation of each, may be discovered, in some measure, from a comparison between the English, the French, and the Roman dramatist. M. Baron has not made any alteration in the scene at Chrysis’ funeral, where Simo discovers his son’s attachment to Glycera; but Sir R. Steele, has altered the mode of discovery to a quarrel at a masquerade; and his scene, though it may want the pathos of the original, yet displays the filial affection of Bevil, the English Pamphilus, in a very amiable light. Sir Richard has modernized the characters of Simo and Sosia in Sir John Bevil and Humphrey.
“Sir J. You know I was, last Thursday, at the masquerade: my son, you may remember, soon found us out. He knew his grandfather’s habit, which I then wore, and though it was in the mode of the last age, yet the maskers followed us, as if we had been the most monstrous figures in the whole assembly.
“Humph. I remember a young man of quality, in the habit of a clown, was particularly troublesome.
“Sir J. Right: he was too much what he seemed to be: he followed us, till the gentleman, who led the lady in the Indian mantle, presented that gay creature to the rustic, and bid him (like Cymon in the fable) grow polite, by falling in love, and let that worthy gentleman alone, meaning me. The clown was not reformed, but rudely offered to force off my mask; with that the gentleman, throwing off his own, appeared to be my son; and, in his concern for me, tore off that of the nobleman. At this, they seized each other, the company called the guards, and, in the surprise, the lady swooned away; upon which my son quitted his adversary, and had now no care but of the lady; when, raising her in his arms, ‘Art thou gone,’ cried he, ‘for ever?—Forbid it, Heaven!’—She revives at his known voice, and, with the most familiar, though modest gesture, hangs in safety over his shoulders weeping; but wept as in the arms of one before whom she could give herself a loose, were she not under observation. While she hides her face in his neck, he carefully conveys her from the company.”—Conscious Lovers.