SEPULCHRAL RELIEFS AT ATHENS.
[To THE EDITOR Or TIEIZ SrECSIITOO•"] Sre,—The writer of the deeply interesting article upon "The Ancient Sepulchral Reliefs at Athens," in the Spectator of August 13th, has remarked upon most of the features of the monuments ; but there are one or two others which seem to be worthy of mention. I was in Athens in May last, and made a close inspection of these monuments, both those in the National Museum and those which remain in situ in the Ceramicon.
I noticed that the dying person is generally sitting in a chair or on a stool, dressed as usual, only occasionally reclining on a couch, and never lying in bed. Men, at the last farewell, are sometimes standing. The pet animals appear to have been the dog and the dove. The dog looks into his master's face and rises with fore-paws resting against him, as though asking leave to accompany him ; the dove is brought and held forward by a friend to be caressed. In one case, a dying girl has a dove in her hand ; in another, the dove is held by a child at the dying mother's knee. The funeral-urn is a common object ; but in most cases it is conventional, being sculptured in one solid piece, so that the lid does not take off. Sometimes it is only carved in low relief on a funeral-slab ; but in a few instances it is a real urn, fitted to hold ashes and charred bones. These facts appear to point to a former practice of cremation, which had almost entirely gone out of date, though the symbol of it was continued traditionally.
The casket of jewels brought to the dying woman in so many instances, did not appear to me to stand allegorically for the pleasant world to which a farewell must be said. I thought it perhaps indicated a custom of disposing of the jewels as heir- looms, the dying person being asked to express her wishes. If they were marriage-presents, a still different significance may belong to them. But I only guess ; and your writer may be right. In one ease, the dying woman has her hand among the jewels ; in another, she is looking in a hand-mirror, as though to observe her pale face. I looked particularly for tokens of the hope of resurrection, and do not feel so sure that they were absent. Besides the sculptures in the rooms of the Museum, there are many sarcophagi at present lying in the grounds, their aides carved with symbolical representations. Among these there are several instances of cherub children playing the double-pipes and the lyre, and showing other signs of rejoicing ;—as the death would not be the reason for joy, it mast, I imagine, have been the hopeful interpretation given to death. The symbols on one ear- eophagus are very curious; there is a tree with a bird's nest in it, the parent birds feeding their young ones, and a serpent, ascending the tree ; on either side a centaur approaches with a lifted club, while a lion and a leopard are endeavouring to keep off the centaurs. The cherubs who play the music sometimes have companions who bear torches,—blazing torches, full of life and energy, not torches held downwards in sign of life extin- guished. One further fact : on a tomb in the Ceramicon is a representation of Charon and his boat, a figure in the boat lying as dead, symbolical of the deceased,—symbolical, I think, and not representative, for alongside the boat are four persons, one of whom I take to be the dying person, who is thus accompanied to the river of death by his friends. The piece is, unfortunately, a little mutilated. But here is Charon's boat, to convey the dead to the land beyond the river, the " sweet fields beyond the swelling flood."
I join in the wish of the writer of the article that the British Museum authorities may procure caste of the beat things ; but I hope the things themselves will all be left where they are. This Ceramicon at Athens—a cemetery of the Greeks more than two thousand years old, buried for centuries and only excavated lately—is as unique a thing in its way as the city of Pompeii ; and though denuded of its best monuments, which have been taken to the National Museum, is instructive and impressive as it stands. It should be no further meddled with.—I am, Sir, &c.,