Etruscan funerary rites

An Etruscan Funeral Ritual

I. The Laying Forth (Prothesis):

Upon the lamented confirmation of life's cessation, the body of the departed, be it noble King or esteemed Matron, is conveyed with measured reverence to the family atrium. Here, attended by handmaidens or designated kin of appropriate gender, the sacred duty of purification commences. The earthly vessel is subjected to meticulous ablutions with cool spring water, infused perhaps with fragrant herbs – rosemary for remembrance, sage for cleansing. Following this, precious unguents, breathing foreign spice and native oils, are applied with gentle hands, anointing the brow, the chest, the hands, and feet, preparing the flesh for its final repose or transformation.

The deceased is then attired in vestments of the finest linen or wool, dyed in hues significant to their station and lineage – perhaps the regal purple for one of high rank, or pristine white signifying purity and transition. Adornments are not spared: rings grace the fingers, fibulae fasten the robes, and diadems or wreaths may crown the head, reflecting the honour accorded in life. Thus prepared, the departed is laid upon a ceremonial bier, draped in richly embroidered cloths, the feet pointed towards the atrium's entrance, awaiting the mournful vigil. Professional mourning women, skilled in the art of lament, commence their dolorous chants, their voices weaving a tapestry of sorrow, whilst the immediate family maintains a dignified, albeit heartbroken, presence.

II. The Solemn Procession (Ekphora):

As the appointed hour arrives, heralded by the low call of the curved lituus horn, the grand procession forms. It is a spectacle of familial piety and societal standing. Preceded by lictors or retainers bearing the bundles (if rank permits) and musicians playing mournful airs upon the double-pipes (aulos) and lyre, the bier is borne aloft by close kinsmen or designated pallbearers.

Following the bier walks the chief mourner, often the heir, garbed in sombre hues, their face etched with prescribed grief. Then come the family members, veiled and observing hierarchical order. A remarkable feature may be the inclusion of actors wearing wax funerary masks (imagines) representing illustrious ancestors of the gens, silently marching as if the lineage itself escorts the departed towards eternity. Behind them follow freedmen, clients, and other members of the household, their numbers signifying the deceased's influence. This sombre train winds its way through the city's streets, a public declaration of loss and remembrance, towards the necropolis situated beyond the city walls.

III. The Entombment:

Upon arrival at the family tomb – often an elaborate subterranean chamber carved from the tufa bedrock, resembling a house for the dead, its entrance marked by a tumulus or architectural facade – the procession halts. The bier is carefully lowered. If inhumation is the chosen rite (as was increasingly common in this period, though cremation persisted), the body, perhaps now enclosed within a terracotta or stone sarcophagus intricately carved with mythological scenes or a portrait of the deceased reclining as if at a banquet, is manoeuvred with utmost care into its designated place within the tomb's chambers.

Grave goods, essential provisions for the afterlife's journey and existence, are meticulously arranged around the sarcophagus. These include ceramic vessels filled with symbolic sustenance (wine, oil, grain), bronze mirrors for the deceased to behold their eternal form, tools or weapons pertinent to their earthly roles, jewellery, and sometimes even furniture or chariot parts – a veritable household transported to the chthonic realm.

IV. Rites at the Threshold and Prayers to the Underworld Divinities:

Before the tomb is sealed, the most sacred rites unfold at its threshold. An altar may be erected nearby. Here, libations are poured onto the earth or into offering pits – first, pure water, then milk mixed with honey, and finally, dark wine, calling upon the spirits of the earth and underworld. Animal sacrifice might occur, often a sheep or pig, its blood spilled as a potent offering to appease the powers below and nourish the departed spirit.

The Chief Priest, or a designated family elder versed in sacred lore, steps forward and intones the prayers. These are not rhyming verses, but sonorous prose, invoking the gods with gravity and detail:

(The Priest, arms raised towards the earth, speaks in solemn prose):

"Hark, ye silent denizens of the perpetual twilight, Mantus, lord of the sunless expanse, and Mania, dread mother whose embrace none refuse! Attend, we implore, not with wrathful visage, but with the countenance of acceptance. Behold this soul, once vibrant amongst us, Lucius Apunal, son of Velthur, who walked the bright earth under the gaze of Tinia but now seeks passage across the shadowed threshold. He comes not empty-handed, but bearing the memory of righteous deeds, the respect of his kin, the honours of his station. Grant him, we beseech, passage unhindered by the fanged terrors that lurk upon the path. May Vanth, winged guide with gentle eyes, illuminate his way, not with the harsh glare of judgement, but with the soft light that leads to peace. Let Charun, stern ferryman, stay his fearsome hammer, and recognise this spirit as one who fulfilled the dictates of fate, whose thread was spun and cut by the inexorable Sisters. Receive him, O deities profound, into the company of the ancestors, into the quietude where souls abide. Let not the memory of his earthly life fade as mist, but endure in the annals of our gens, a testament to virtue. Accept these libations, this sacred blood spilled, not to bribe, but to honour the laws eternal that govern both the upper world and your abyssal domain. Let the earth lie light upon him, and his spirit find solace in the unending dusk."

Following the prayers, funerary games might be held near the tomb – contests of athletic skill, or perhaps even the grim spectacle of gladiatorial combat (a custom some scholars trace to Etruscan roots), the spilled blood thought to further appease and empower the spirit of the dead.

V. The Sealing of the Tomb and the Funerary Banquet:

Once the rites are concluded, the heavy stone door of the tomb is rolled or levered into place, often sealed with mortar or lead. This act signifies the final separation between the worlds of the living and the dead. The imagines of the ancestors are respectfully retired.

The mood then shifts, albeit subtly. The mourners ritually cleanse themselves, often washing their hands and faces. A funerary banquet (cena funeralis) is held, either near the necropolis or back at the family home. This is not a joyous feast, but a communal meal intended to honour the deceased, reaffirm the bonds of the living family and community, and ritually reintegrate the mourners back into the society of the living after their contact with death. Food is shared, wine is drunk, and stories honouring the departed may be exchanged, ensuring their memory endures.

                Etruscan Funeral Ritual inspired from the Acherontic Books

I. The Vigil and the Lamentation of the Departed

Upon the house where dwelt the soul now fled, a silence falls, heavy as the very pall that shall soon enwrap the form bereft of breath. Within the atrium, cleansed and sanctified with sprinkled water and the smoke of juniper, the body of the departed lies in state upon a high-raised couch, the lectus funebris. Washed with wine and fragrant oils, and clad in the richest robes of their station – the purple-bordered toga for the magistrate, the embroidered mantle for the matron of high lineage – the deceased reposes, a still effigy of life's late majesty. About the brow, a wreath of golden leaves, or that of fresh laurel, speaks of honours past, or hopes for passage through the shadowy gates. The chief mourner, be it son, or spouse, or nearest kin, stands forth, their visage etched with a sorrow profound, and speaks, not in wild, untutored grief, but with a measured cadence, as befits the solemnity of this dread hour:

“Lo, how swift the pinion of that grim messenger, who brooks no plea nor tarrying! But yesterday, thy voice, a familiar music in these halls, did resonate with counsels wise, or laughter light as summer breeze; today, a hollow echo answers to our call. Oh, thou, whose hand was ever open in its bounty, whose heart, a sanctuary of loyal love, why art thou thus untimely snatched from our devoted gaze? The loom of Fate, inexorable, hath cut the thread, and left us desolate upon this darkened shore. Yet, as the sun, though vanquished by the night, doth promise a return, so may thy spirit, freed from mortal coil, find passage to those realms where shadows hold a different sway, and the ancestors await. Let not our tears be wholly of despair, but mingled with the reverence due to a life well-lived, a journey bravely run, now come to its appointed, silent end.”

Around the couch, hired mourners, the praeficae, with dishevelled hair and garments rent in ritual show of grief, commence their plangent cries, their voices weaving a tapestry of woe, recounting the virtues of the deceased, the lineage noble, the deeds memorable, whilst the flute player breathes a low and mournful strain, a dirge to pierce the very heart of silence.

II. The Grand Procession to the City of the Ancestors

When the appointed hour, determined by the augur's art, arrives, the great doors of the domus are thrown wide. The designator, master of these somber ceremonies, gives the sign. Bearers, stout of limb and grave of mien, lift the lectus funebris. Forth into the light of day, or the flickering gleam of torches if the night commands, the procession, the pompa funebris, begins its measured tread.

First, the lictors, if the deceased held high office, with bundles wreathed in cypress black. Then, musicians, their trumpets blaring forth a brazen sorrow, their flutes sighing a more gentle grief. Actors, wearing the waxen masks (imagines) of the illustrious ancestors of the deceased, walk as if those ancient worthies lived again, a silent testament to the continuity of the noble line, a grave reminder that this soul but joins a hallowed company. Behind them, attendants bear the insignia of the departed's rank, their arms, their civic crowns. And then, upon his bier, the deceased, veiled from the common gaze, yet palpably present in his silent majesty. The family follows, their heads covered, their grief restrained but profound, the women uttering soft laments, the men walking with stoic dignity. Friends, clients, and citizens swell the train, a river of humanity flowing towards the necropolis, that silent city of the dead that lies beyond the living walls.

A herald, his voice clear and strong, might pause at crossroads, proclaiming:

“Behold, ye citizens of [City Name], [Name of Deceased], son/daughter of [Father’s Name], of the gens [Family Name], who in life served this city with honour, who upheld the sacred laws and revered the gods, now fareth forth to join the spirits of his/her forebears. Make way, ye living, for the procession of the dead! Reflect upon the span of mortal days, and the eternal verities that lie beyond!”

III. The Rites of Propitiation at the Threshold of Eternity

The procession arrives before the monumental tomb, a house built not for fleeting years but for the ages, its façade perhaps adorned with carvings of mythical beasts or scenes of feasting and farewell. Here, at the very portal between the sunlit world and the eternal dark, the most sacred rites unfold.

The netsvis, the priest skilled in the lore of sacrifice and divination, first purifies the sacred space with lustral waters and the burning of sacred herbs. An altar, hastily erected or a permanent fixture of the tomb’s forecourt, awaits its due. Libations are poured forth: first, wine, to gladden the spirits; then milk and honey, nourishment for the journey; and lastly, a darker stream of sacrificial blood. Choice portions of food, fruits, and cakes are laid upon the offering table, along with cherished personal belongings of the deceased – a favourite stylus, a mirror, a child’s toy – things to serve them in the world unseen. An unblemished sheep, or pig, garlanded for sacrifice, is brought forth. The priest, murmuring ancient prayers, makes the fatal strike. The steaming entrails are swiftly drawn and presented to the haruspex, who, with solemn concentration, reads therein the disposition of the underworld gods, seeking favourable omens for the soul’s reception. He might declare:

“The liver showeth no undue portent of wrath; the pathways are not wholly obstructed. Let the rites proceed with diligence, for the gods of the deep, though stern, are not unmindful of piety rightly shown. Appease them further, that the journey be made smooth.”

A priest then addresses the assembled spirits of the tomb:

“O, Manes of our ancestors, ye who dwell within this hallowed precinct! Behold, another of your blood seeks entry to your silent company. Receive [Name of Deceased] with such welcome as is meet for kin. Let not your ancient peace be troubled, but rather augmented by this new arrival. Accept these gifts, this blood, this sustenance, and grant your favour to the living and the newly dead.”

IV. The Acherontic Invocation: Appeasing the Lords of the departed

Now, as the shadows lengthen, or within a specially consecrated pit, the mundus, which serves as a direct conduit to the nether regions, the priest, drawing from the arcane wisdom of the Acherontic Books, prepares for the most dread and potent invocations. His voice, taking on a hollow resonance, calls forth the powers that hold dominion over the sunless lands:

“Hear me, ye who reign in the eternal gloom, whose names are spoken with hushed breath and trembling awe!

Mantus, and thou, Mania, dread Queen of this silent populace, from whose vast, unyielding grasp no mortal essence may escape! We, ephemeral creatures of the upper air, approach thy grim majesty not with defiance, but with the supplication born of our fragile state. This soul, [Name of Deceased], new-loosed from the fetters of the flesh, stands now upon the brink of thy domain.

We have rendered unto them the dues of passage, the tears of memory, the sustenance for the shadowed road. We offer now this sacred smoke, this vital essence, that thy countenances may be turned not in anger, but in acceptance.

Vanth, thou winged harbinger of fate’s decree, with eyes that see beyond the veil and torch that flickers in the Stygian night! Attend this spirit. Unfurl thy scroll whereon its deeds are writ, and guide it with unerring step through labyrinthine ways, past ghostly sentinels and regions of despair, unto the place appointed by the iron law of consequence. Let not its passage be delayed by malevolent shades, nor its essence be dispersed by winds of an unholy desolation.

And thou, Charun, of visage grim and hammer ever poised, guardian of the final crossing! We implore thee, mitigate thy stern aspect. Let not thy blows fall with undue harshness upon this shade. Recognize the piety performed, the offerings made in accordance with ancient law. Thy boat awaits; let its passage be not to torment, but to that peace, however somber, which thy realm affords to those who come with dues fully paid, their earthly tasks complete.

By the blood here spilt, by the lamentations voiced, by the sacred words intoned from tablets old as time, we bind this soul to your cognisance. Let the gates of Aita swing wide, not in fury, but in solemn welcome. Let the earth lie light upon them, and their memory be preserved in honour among the living, even as their spirit finds its station among the silent fellowship of the departed.”

V. The Final Committal, the Sealing of the Door, and the Feast of Remembrance

The body, or the cinerary urn containing the sacred ashes if cremation was chosen, is now borne with reverence into the dark embrace of the tomb. It is placed within its designated loculus or sarcophagus, surrounded by the goods that will furnish its long sojourn.

Then, with heavy hearts and solemn ceremony, the great stone door of the tomb is rolled into place, or the entrance sealed with masonry, shutting out the light of the living world. The priest makes a final mark upon it, a symbol of protection and finality.

A final prayer is offered by the chief mourner or priest:

“Now art thou housed within the earth’s deep breast, O [Name of Deceased]. May thy slumber be untroubled, thy spirit find its rest. As this stone seals thy mortal frame from our sight, so may the gods seal thy fate with mercy. We entrust thee to the ages.”

The formal rites thus concluded, the family and close friends partake in the silicernium, a funeral banquet held near the tomb or back at the house of the deceased.