a honey cake set in the hands,[*] a flask of oil placed under the head.  After this come streaming the relatives in irregular procession:  the widow and the chief heir (her prospective second husband!) walking closest, and trying to appear as demonstrative as possible:  nor (merely because the company is noisy and not stoical in its manner) need we deny that there is abundant genuine grief.  All sorts of male acquaintances of the deceased bring up the rear, since it is good form to proclaim to wide Athens that Lycophon had hosts of friends.[+]

[*]The original idea of the honey cake was simply that it was a friendly present to the infernal gods; later came the conceit that it was a sop to fling to the dog Cerberus, who guarded the entrance to Hades.

[+]Women, unless they were over sixty years of age, were not allowed to join in funeral processions unless they were first cousins, or closer kin, of the deceased.

73.  The Funeral Pyre.—­So the procession moves through the still gloomy streets of the city,—­doubtless needing torch bearers as well as flute players,—­and out through some gate, until the line halts in an open field, or better, in a quiet and convenient garden.  Here the great funeral pyre of choice dry fagots, intermixed with aromatic cedar, has been heaped.  The bier is laid thereon.  There are no strictly religious ceremonies.  The company stands in a respectful circle, while the nearest male kinsman tosses a pine link upon the oil-soaked wood.  A mighty blaze leaps up to heaven, sending its ruddy brightness against the sky now palely flushed with the bursting dawn.  The flutists play in softer measures.  As the fire rages a few of the relatives toss upon it pots of rare unguents; and while the flames die down, thrice the company shout their farewells, calling their departed friend by name—­“Lycophron!  Lycophron!  Lycophron!”

So fierce is the flame it soon sinks into ashes.  As soon as these are cool enough for safety (a process hastened by pouring on water or wine) the charred bones of the deceased are tenderly gathered up to be placed in a stately urn.  The company, less formally now, returns to Athens, and that night there will probably be a great funeral feast at the house of the nearest relative, everybody eating and drinking to capacity “to do Lycophron full honor”; for it is he who is imagined as being now for the last time the host.

74.  Honors to the memory of the Dead.—­Religion seems to have very little place in the Athenian funeral:  there are no priests present, no prayers, no religious hymns.  But the dead man is now conceived as being, in a very humble and intangible way, a deity himself:  his good will is worth propitiating; his memory is not to be forgotten.  On the third, ninth, and thirtieth days after the funeral there are simple religious ceremonies with offerings of garlands, fruits, libations and the like, at the new tomb; and later at certain times in the year these will be repeated.  The more enlightened will of course consider these merely graceful remembrances of a former friend; but there is a good deal of primitive ancestor worship even in civilized Athens.