LifeThough we attempt a chronological arrangement of the orators, such a treatment is apt to be misleading, for their lives and the periods of their activity overlap considerably. About the year 390 B.C. Andocides was still composing speeches, Lysias was yet in his prime; Isocrates had already made himself a reputation, and Isaeus had at least begun to be known. It would be rash therefore to attempt to trace in the work of any one the influence of any of the others. Speaking and writing as contemporaries all may have had something to teach and something to learn, but we can hardly say that one is in the fullest sense the literary predecessor or the disciple of another. Lysias was by descent a Syracusan; his father Cephalus, of whom Plato gives us a charming picture in the opening chapters of the Republic, was induced by Pericles to settle in Athens, and there Lysias was born. The Pseudo-Plutarch gives the date as 459 B.C., and Dionysius gives the same year; but this is founded on an assumption. He was known to have gone to Thurii at the age of fifteen, and Thurii was founded in 443 B.C. But there is no proof that Lysias went to Thurii in the year of its foundation; we only know that he cannot have been born earlier than 459 B.C. Tradition, however, made him live to the age of eighty or eighty-three, and his latest known speech is dated, probably, in 380 B.C., so that if we assume his death to have occurred shortly after 380 B.C., we shall be consistent.1 The modern view, supported by Blass, that Lysias was born not earlier than 444 B.C., has little evidence to support it. It is based chiefly on the statement of the Pseudo-Plutarch that Lysias did not go to Thurii till after his father's death, and the belief that Cephalus was alive in 430 B.C., the date in which the scene of the Republic is supposed to be laid. But Blass has himself collected instances of Plato's untrustworthiness about dates, and the biographer by himself is a poor authority. Lysias, then, went to Thurii with his brothers Polemarchus and Euthydemus. He is said to have studied under the Syracusan rhetorician Tisias. After the loss of the Athenian armies in Sicily, 413 B.C., Lysias and his brothers were among three hundred persons accused of ‘Atticizing,’ and were expelled from Thurii. They returned to Athens in 412 B.C. From this year till 404 B.C., the brothers lived in prosperity and happiness, making a considerable fortune as proprietors of a shield-factory, where they employed 120 slaves. They had many friends; they belonged to the highest class of aliens—the isoteleis—and the evidence of Plato and Dionysius makes it clear that they mixed with the most cultivated society. They took pride in the performance of all public services which fell to their share. Fortune changed for the sons of Cephalus when in 404 B.C. a successful revolution brought the Thirty into power; the orator himself gives a graphic description of the way in which their ruin was brought about. The Thirty, he tells us, ‘avowed that they must purge the city of wrongdoers, and turn the rest of the citizens towards virtue and justice.’ Two of the leaders pointed out that some of the metoeci were discontented with the new constitution; these metoeci were rich, so that their execution was not only a moral duty but a sound financial move. They easily prevailed on their colleagues, who, as Lysias neatly puts it, ‘thought nothing of taking life but thought a lot of making money.’ The orator's name was on the list, and he was arrested at a dinner-party in his own house. He describes what followed: ‘I asked Piso whether he would save my life for money; he said he would, if it was a large sum. So I said I was ready to pay a talent, and he agreed to the terms. I knew well enough that he regarded neither god nor man, but I thought my only chance lay in trusting him. So when he had sworn by his own and his children's hope of salvation that he would save me if he got a talent for it, I went into my strong-room and opened the chest.’ The sight of its contents, amounting to about six talents' worth of gold and silver as well as a quantity of plate, was too much for Piso's honesty. ‘I begged him to allow me enough for my journey, but he said I ought to be well satisfied if I saved my skin.’ The prisoner was handed over by Piso to the keeping of Damnippus and Theognis in the former's house, and Damnippus, who seems to have been softerhearted than the rest, agreed to speak with Theognis on Lysias' behalf. He knew his man, and ‘thought he would do anything for money.’ While they were bargaining, Lysias managed to slip away unnoticed through the back-door, and on the following day escaped on ship-board to Megara; his brother Polemarchus was arrested by Eratosthenes and put to death (Against Eratosthenes, §§ 5-17). During his exile, which lasted something less than a year, Lysias showed himself a true friend of the democracy. He gave two hundred shields to the army and obtained recruits and gifts of money. When the oligarchy fell in 403 B.C. the ecclesia, on the motion of Thrasybulus, passed a vote conferring the citizenship on Lysias; but owing to some informality the decree was declared illegal, and he lost his privilege immediately. From this time till about 380 B.C. he was actively employed in writing speeches, very few of which he delivered himself. His industry must have been considerable, since Dionysius attributed to him not less than two hundred forensic speeches. The prosecution of Eratosthenes in 403 B.C. marks, so far as we know, his only personal contact with Athenian politics. The occasion of the Olympiacus shows us Lysias appealing to a far wider audience at the Olympic festival of 388 B.C. He died, according to the computation of the ancients, soon after 380 B.C., at the age of about eighty years.
Purity of styleIn literature as in politics we grow tired of hearing Aristides called the Just, and so perfect writers are less admired than they should be. In Latin Terence, praised by all for the purity of his style, is less read than the ruder Plautus, and in Greek Lysias, accounted by ancient critics the standard writer of Attic prose,2 is less appreciated than Demosthenes. Using the everyday language as a literary medium, Lysias, by his exceptional skill and mastery over its idiom, exalted it to a simplicity and accuracy of expression never surpassed by other writers. This simplicity is deceptive:
It is not till we analyse a passage or try to imitate the style that we realize how great a part has been played by art in this structure which seems so natural. The smoothness strikes us, after a time, as monotonous, and many readers will turn with relief from Lysias' polish to the more telling ruggedness of Antiphon, or the varied magnificence of Plato. Lysias, in fact, provides us with an excellent example of the purest prose, but the comparative coarseness of the average taste prefers something less refined, less carefully purged of the natural impurities which prevent insipidity, less free from the colouring matter which gives character. So far I have considered only the broad impression produced by the language, apart from more personal elements in style. As an orator, Lysias is, on first acquaintance, disappointing. He seems to lack fire, and to subordinate vigour to precision. For this apparent weakness we must make certain allowances. We must remember that he has to be judged chiefly by speeches written for others, and speeches dealing with cases which in their very nature are often unimportant, and in their details have little interest. It would be unreasonable to ask for any other qualities than clear statement of fact in a speech for the prosecution relating to embezzlement by a trustee for a will (Against Diogiton), or in the indictment of Nicomachus, a magistrate who has not rendered his accounts in due course. Such speeches are of considerable importance indirectly: to the jurist, as bearing upon the peculiarities of Attic Law; to the general reader, because they help to fill in details of the picture of public and private life at Athens. We should not pass a hasty judgment on the writer because, considered as examples of oratory, they are less attractive and impressive than some of the more famous models. I will reserve for future consideration the only speech in which the personal feelings of Lysias are deeply involved—the accusation of Eratosthenes. Of the other speeches there is none which, taken as a whole, is comparable to the finest of the public speeches or the harangues of Demosthenes. Though Lysias had often to deal with trials of public men, these trials were never really of public importance. It was not his business to lay down a definite line of policy for his city to follow; it was not for him to awake an apathetic nation to the need of instant and decisive action. We cannot believe that any of his speeches would appeal, or were meant to appeal, to Athens as a whole. Even when he is dealing with events that took place during the tyranny of the Thirty, though no doubt feeling still ran high, we have the impression that only that part of the community which had been directly concerned in promoting or thwarting the Revolution would be keenly interested in the process of punishing or rewarding those who had played minor parts; the majority had acquiesced, with greater or less unwillingness, at the time of the changes, and now that the trouble was past, were eager to make the best of the present; political memory at Athens was short. The position of Demosthenes was very different; his chief activity was not after a crisis, but during a time of national danger. He found great opportunities and he rose to them. A great enthusiasm is required to produce really great men, whether orators or statesmen. A gifted man under the influence of a great constructive idea may, with exceptional opportunities, become a Pericles; an extraordinarily favourable combination of such circumstances may give birth to an Alexander. In modern times the greatest eloquence is usually on the side of the opposition, and in all ages a losing cause has tended to produce more conspicuous men. Demosthenes owes his great reputation partly to his exceptional ability, but in very large part also to his opportunities, to the fact that he was fighting against national apathy and foreign aggression for a noble ideal—his conception of Athenian Liberty. A lesser intellect might have shone under such circumstances; and on the other hand Demosthenes, if he had had no opportunity for the speeches against Philip, might have been ranked almost in the same class with such orators as Lysias.
Structure of speechesLysias is no less simple in the arrangement of his subject-matter than in his language. Practically every speech which has come down to us in entirety may be analysed into four elements—preface, narrative, proof, and epilogue. The preface or epilogue may be very slight; the narrative may be so self-evident that proof is practically unnecessary, or on the other hand, there may be hardly any facts to narrate, so that beyond the words of the indictment only an accumulation of proofs is required; but the order of the parts seems to be invariable. We have seen that Andocides instinctively divided up his narrative, where there was a long story to tell, and interspersed the parts with proofs of the details. Isocrates, who states the necessity of the divisions which Lysias tacitly adopted, himself departs from his own rules at times, while Isaeus, by a judicious subdivision and shifting of the parts, contrives, as Dionysius says, to ‘outmanœuvre’ the judges (καταστρατηγεῖ). Within these limits Lysias aimed at elasticity; though the form of the speech was to be settled precisely, his artistic sense demanded a variety in the details. It is remarked by Dionysius that, though he composed two hundred speeches, he never used the same preface twice. Some orators were in the habit of using over again the opening sentences which had already served as introduction to an old speech, and even borrowing such proems whole from the speeches of their predecessors or from rhetorical handbooks. Lysias, with a truer instinct for what was appropriate, composed for every speech a proem adapted to its requirements. His versatility in this small matter is much to be admired. It is to be noticed also that there is considerable variety in his ways of ending his speeches; though many of his epilogues practically say the same thing in different words, they nearly all succeed in saying it in a way more appropriate to the particular speech than to any other. As there is diversity in these forms, so there is great variety in the details of expression. There are very few formal mannerisms on which we could seize if we wished to produce a parody of the style. There are indeed one or two common necessary phrases which he employed frequently, but even these are presented in different shape from time to time.3
Sentence structureLysias varies greatly in the structure of his sentences, at one time producing periods neatly turned, with clauses carefully balanced, at another time writing in a style by no means periodic; again varying his form by mingling the two methods, inserting in the middle of the period a parenthesis or relative clause which keeps us in suspense, or attaching to the end of the period an extra limb which, from a technical point of view, spoils its symmetry. It is impossible without quoting a large number of examples to prove these statements in detail, but we may state broadly that in speeches dealing with serious matters of public interest the style is more periodic; in some of the private speeches on comparatively trivial subjects the style is simpler and more straightforward. But there is often much variety within the limits of the same speech; as Blass and others have pointed out, the narrative is usually told in a simple style,4 while for arguments and proofs the greater elaboration of the period is employed. As I have pointed out in a previous chapter (Ch. ii. pp. 26-7), narrative and argument seem naturally to evoke different styles, and it may be supposed further that the juries trying the more serious cases looked for a more finished style of speech than the colloquial simplicity which would be admissible in minor police-court cases. But even in the unimportant private speeches Lysias has not one method only, and we feel that he varied his style of sentence construction to suit the character of the speaker for whom he wrote. Thus the youth Mantitheus is nearly as simple in speech as he is ingenuous in thought, while the cripple, whom we feel to be a plausible rascal, glibly produces strings of neat antitheses, such as the following:
“The rich with their money can buy exemption from danger, the poor are compelled by their indigence to practise moderation. The young claim indulgence from their elders, but both young and old are equally severe on the faults of the others.The strong have the opportunity, without risk to themselves, of ill-treating whom they will; the weak can neither defend themselves against an aggressor when they are ill treated, nor overpower their intended victims when they wish to ill-treat others.”
CharacterizationThe variation of sentence-construction is a minor help towards the delineation of character—a necessary part of the business of a professional speech-writer who tries to be realistic. But, in order that the speech may seem appropriate to the speaker, it is necessary that not only his words and phrases but his sentiments should be consonant with his character. This effect Lysias attempted to produce, and he is credited with having attained great success. We may to some extent discover from the speeches what was the nature of the speakers, but not altogether, for we have no indication as to tone or manner of delivery. However, from data of various kinds, we can form conceptions of many of the speakers. Thus the defendant on a charge of receiving bribes (Or. xxi.) gives a long and prosy catalogue of his services to the State, with an account of the moneys that he has spent on liturgies (§§ 1-10); all this leads up to his conclusion that he, who desired little for himself and expended all his fortune for his country's good, had no inducement to take bribes to injure her. From the Mantitheus we get quite a vivid and pleasing picture of a young Athenian of good birth and breeding, who ingenuously admits to having some fashionable affectations and owns to an overpowering ambition to distinguish himself as a speaker in the ecclesia, as he has already done good service in the field. The speech throughout is frank and self-confident, but not by any means boastful:
A very different picture is that of the cripple (Oration xxiv.) who defends himself on a charge of receiving a State pension under false pretences. He seems to protest too much about his infirmity, his poverty, and his general helplessness, while he keeps a sneering tone throughout, and hardly troubles to conceal a malicious temper:
“From such records as these you ought to judge a man who in his public life is guided by ambition combined with moderation; you ought not to detest a man because he does his hair in the fashionable way: such habits hurt nobody personally, and do no harm to the community; while all of you alike are benefited by those who willingly face your enemies. So it is not fair either to love or to hate any one on account of his looks; you should judge by his actions. Many people who talk little and dress quietly have been the authors of great harm, while others who do not affect such deportment have done you great services. . . .I have observed, too, that some people are offended with me because I have ventured to speak in public when I am in their opinion too young: but in the first place I have been forced to speak publicly about matters which concern me, and besides, I think I am by nature somewhat excessively ambitious. I reflect that my ancestors have never ceased to serve the State, and—to be candid—I observe that you think that such people alone deserve your notice. Seeing that such is your opinion, who would not be encouraged to act and speak on the State's behalf? And why should you be displeased with those who do so? No one else has a right to judge them; it is for you alone.”
“I am almost grateful to the prosecutor for instituting this trial. Hitherto I have had no pretext for giving you an account of my life: now I have obtained one— through him. In my speech I shall attempt to show that he is a liar, and that up to the present day my life has been one that should win praise rather than be exposed to jealousy, for I cannot think that he has brought me to trial from any other motive than jealousy. But if a man feels jealousy towards one whom all others pity, what baseness will he not sink to, do you suppose?It is not to gain money that he has laid this information, and he is not trying to punish an enemy; he is a bad character, with whom I have had no dealings either friendly or hostile. So it is clear, Gentlemen, that he is jealous of me because, though thus afflicted, I am a better citizen than he is. For I think that one should compensate for bodily misfortunes by good habits of mind; and if I show a disposition of mind to match my unfortunate body, and fashion my life accordingly, I shall be as bad as he is. . . .”
“As to my riding, which he has had the audacity to mention, having no fear of fortune or respect for you, there is not much to say. I know that all who labour under any incapacity seek some such relief, and speculate how best they may alleviate their suffering. I am one of this class, and, being afflicted as you see, have found riding a great comfort for a journey of any length. . . .If I had the means, I would ride in comfort on a mule, instead of a borrowed horse; but as I cannot afford a beast of my own, I am compelled often to use a borrowed horse. . . . I am surprised that he does not make it a ground for accusation that I walk with two sticks, while others use one — on the plea that only the affluent can afford two.”
Another good example of this realism in depicting character is the speech de Caede Eratosthenis. Lysias seems to have given us just the kind of speech that is appropriate to a rather stupid man of the lower middle classes who, by his own showing, is no better than his neighbours, though no worse. Incidentally, the whole speech is an important contribution to our knowledge of domestic arrangements in an Athenian home:
“Again, he says that I associate with numerous bad characters who have spent all their own money, and are plotting against those who want to keep what belongs to them. But reflect that this accusation does not hit me more than anybody else who practises a trade; nor does it apply to my visitors more than those of the rest of the working-class. Every one of you pays visits to the perfumer, the barber, the shoemaker, or any tradesman, and most people go to the establishments nearest the marketplace, and fewest to those farthest away. So if you condemn my visitors as scoundrels, it is clear that you must equally condemn those who spend their time in other people's shops; and if they are guilty, all the inhabitants of Athens must be; for you are all in the habit of paying visits and spending your time somewhere or other.”
“So things went on, till one day I returned unexpectedly from the country. After dinner the baby was crying and fidgeting—the servant had been teasing it on purpose, to make it cry, for Eratosthenes was in the house: I heard all about that afterwards.—I told my wife to go and feed the baby, to stop it crying. She refused at first, pretending to be glad to have me back after so long; but when I grew annoyed and told her again to go, “Yes,” said she, “and leave you and the servant alone up here; I know how you behaved one night when you were drunk.” I laughed, but she got up and went away and shut the door, treating it as a joke, and drew the bolt outside. I thought nothing of it, and had no suspicion, and was glad to go to sleep after my day's work in the country. Early in the morning she came back and opened the door, and when I asked why the doors had banged in the night, she told me that the lamp beside the child's bed had gone out, and she had fetched a light from a neighbour. I made no remark, supposing that this was the truth. I had an idea that her face was powdered, although her brother had died less than a month ago; but for all that I said nothing more about it, and left the house and went on my business without comment.”
Emotion and dramaThough Lysias shows dramatic instinct in the representation of character, he seldom employs theatrical effects for the purpose of overpowering the feelings of the court. He trusts more to logic than to the elements of pity and terror, and shows a moderation of language comparable to the self-restraint which characterizes his style in general. He avoids exaggeration of every kind; even the story of his own arrest is told in a dispassionate, almost impersonal style (above, p. 76). There can be no doubt that Lysias thus gains greatly in dignity. The prison scene described by Andocides (above, p. 62) may appeal more to our feelings, but certainly more impressive is the solemnity of a similar scene in Lysias:
The prisoner then disposed of his property, and ‘solemnly warned his wife, if she should bear a son, to tell the child that Agoratus had killed his father, and bid him take vengeance on the murderer.’ There is no hint here of such weeping and wailing as Andocides describes; nothing but the quiet pathos of the story itself to work upon the feelings. To a certain class of audience this style would appeal more truly than any extravagance of grief, and passages of this kind should be enough to refute the common charge against Lysias that he lacks pathos.
“When they were condemned to death, and their end was near, they sent for various kinswomen—sister, mother, wife, as the case might be—to visit them in prison, in order that they might, before they died, bid them a last farewell. Dionysodorus sent for my sister, who was his wife. Receiving the message, she came dressed in mourning as a fit tribute to her husband's condition.”
HumorLysias was not without a sense of humour, and sometimes employed sarcasm which could be delicate and playful or bitter to the point of brutality according to circumstances; thus in the Epitaphios he remarks how the Persians thought that their best chance of success would be to invade Greece ‘while Greece was still quarrelling as to the best means of defence against invasion.’5 Other sentences may be found in the speech For the Cripple. (above, pp. 83 sqq.). Sometimes a sarcastic reference is introduced by a play on words—as βουλεύειν— δουλεύειν in Philo, § 26 — ‘He desires the position of a public servant; that of a public slave is what he deserves.’ Out of several instances in the Nicomachus one may be quoted, in comparison with a rather similar passage in Andocides: ‘He has now become a citizen instead of a slave, a rich man instead of a poor man, a legislator instead of an under-clerk.’ This is far less effective than the unexpected turn which Andocides gives to a similar passage.6 Finally, the fragment of the speech against Aeschines the Socratic contains a long humorous passage. Aeschines has a mania for borrowing money which he never repays. ‘His neighbours are so badly treated by him that they all move as soon as they can and take houses at a distance. . . . The crowd of creditors round his doors at daybreak makes people think they are assembling for a funeral,’ and so on, in a comic vein, till the speaker ends with a spiteful remark about Aeschines' mistress, that ‘you could count her teeth more easily than the fingers of her hand.’
WorksLysias composed an extraordinary number of speeches; of the 425 attributed to him, Dionysius pronounced 233 to be genuine.7 There are now extant thirty-four, either complete or, in some cases, with portions missing. A hundred and twenty-seven speeches are known by the preservation of their titles or of small fragments. As we cannot trace with any certainty a chronological development in style, the most convenient classification of the speeches is according to their subject-matter.
Epideictic SpeechesThe fragment of the ‘Olympiac’ speech, which is undoubtedly genuine, is an interesting specimen of compositions of this class. The Sophists had early realized the opportunities which the great assembly of all Greek States gave for an expression of national feeling, and though perhaps the speech-making was instituted chiefly for the display of oratory, the custom had grown up of making it an occasion for discussing broad political questions. Thus Gorgias had preached the necessity of union among Greeks, and in later time Isocrates in his Panegyric was to urge again the need of putting aside petty disputes among cities for the good of the Greek nation. In 388 B.C. Dionysius of Syracuse had sent a magnificent embassy to the Olympic festival. Lysias, realizing that this despot of the West, who had reduced important cities of Sicily, had defeated Carthage, and was now threatening the towns of Magna Graecia, might become, especially if allied with Persia, a serious menace to the independence of the cities of Greece proper, urged them to sink their private animosities for the good of all, and as a foretaste of their enmity he called upon them to tear down the royal pavilion at Olympia and scatter its treasures. In the extant fragment the speaker warns his hearers that much of the Greek world is in the hands of tyrants, and much under barbarian sway. This is owing to the weakness caused by internal discord. Empire depends on command of the seas, and Dionysius and Artaxerxes are both strong in ships. “You ought therefore to lay aside your war with each other, and by harmonious action make a bid for safety; you should view the past with shame and the future with apprehension.” He invites Sparta to take the lead. The substance of the end of the speech is known to us only from the ‘argument,’ but the fragment is long enough to be judged as a simple yet dignified composition. The Epitaphios or Funeral Speech purports to relate to the Athenians who fell in the Corinthian war, about 394 B.C., though it is impossible to determine the year precisely. Such speeches were habitually delivered at Athens, a speaker of established reputation being generally chosen to perform the service. Now Lysias, not being a citizen, could not be so chosen, and, if the speech was really delivered, he can hardly have composed it; for a practised public speaker would probably not require the services of a professional logographos.8 An extract from the peroration will give a general idea of the style:
There is nothing striking or original in this peroration, which recalls the fragment of the funeral speech of Gorgias, especially in the forced and repeated contrasts between ‘mortal’ and ‘immortal.’ In manner and in substance it is infinitely inferior to the famous speech of Pericles, which, with all its extravagances of style, has a note of true feeling. The Epitaphios of Lysias rings hollow; it is feeble in imagery, it contains very little reference to the dead, and holds out no hope of comfort to the living. The allusions to the Persian war are part of the rhetorical paraphernalia such as stirred the bile of Aristophanes, while the historical references to the supposed circumstances of the speech are so vague as not to be appropriate to any particular occasion. On internal evidence, therefore, we may well believe that it is not a real speech, but a declamatory exercise. There is the further question, whether it was composed by Lysias or not. The composer of a ‘declamatio’ may allow himself liberties which he would not take in a real speech; yet it is hard to believe that Lysias would have committed such faults of taste as to drag the wars of the Amazons into discussion or to indulge in the exaggerations of the opening sections: ‘All time would not be enough for all men to prepare a speech adequate to such deeds!’ and again, ‘Everywhere and among all men do those who mourn for their own sorrows proclaim the valour of these dead!’ This is not appropriate to the Corinthian war nor to any war in the lifetime of Lysias, and Lysias did not elsewhere say things so inappropriate.9 The speech is probably an exercise composed by a writer who had before him the speech of Pericles and other such compositions. It is actually quoted by Aristotle, who, however, does not assign it to Lysias (Rhet., iii. 10. 7). The general lack of restraint in tone is suspicious, and is, on the whole, the strongest argument against authenticity. Only one fragment (Or. xxxiv.) remains of a speech composed for the ecclesia. According to its title, it was delivered in opposition to some proposals to abolish or limit the ancient constitution after the fall of the Thirty (403 B.C.). Dionysius doubts whether it was actually delivered, but considers it to be written in a style suitable for debate (de Lys., ch. 32). It is significant historically that the speaker dares to compare the position of Athens in relation to Sparta with that of Argos and Mantineia. The Athenians must have been broken in spirit to tolerate such a reference.
“And so we may deem these men most happy, in that they faced and met their end on behalf of all that is great and noble, not committing themselves to chance, nor awaiting the death that comes in nature's course, but choosing the noblest way of dying.For their memory is ageless, and their honour is envied of all men; we mourn for them as mortal in their nature, but we celebrate them as immortal for their valour. They are receiving a public funeral, and in their honour we institute displays of strength and wisdom and wealth, holding them who have died in battle worthy to be honoured with the same honour as the immortals. So I call them happy in their death, and envy them therefor, and think it should be said that life was worth the possessing only for those men who, endowed with mortal bodies, have left behind them through their valour a memorial that is immortal. Still, we must follow ancient custom, and, obeying the law of our fathers, make lamentation for those whom we are burying to-day.”