to the birds
and beasts?" "By no means," saith he; "place my staff near me, that I
may drive them away." "How can you do that," they answer, "for you will
not perceive them?" "How am I then injured by being torn by those
animals, if I have no sensation?" Anaxagoras, when he was at the point
of death at Lampsacus, and was asked by his friends, whether, if
anything should happen to him, he would not choose to be carried to
Clazomenae, his country, made this excellent answer, "There is," says
he, "no occasion for that, for all places are at an equal distance from
the infernal regions." There is one thing to be observed with respect
to the whole subject of burial, that it relates to the body, whether
the soul live or die. Now, with regard to the body, it is clear that,
whether the soul live or die, that has no sensation.

XLIV. But all things are full of errors. Achilles drags Hector, tied to
his chariot; he thinks, I suppose, he tears his flesh, and that Hector
feels the pain of it; therefore, he avenges himself on him, as he
imagines. But Hecuba bewails this as a sore misfortune:

I saw (a dreadful sight) great Hector slain,
Dragg'd at Achilles' car along the plain.

What Hector? or how long will he be Hector? Accius is better in this,
and Achilles, too, is sometimes reasonable:

I Hector's body to his sire convey'd,
Hector I sent to the infernal shade.

It was not Hector that you dragged along, but a body that had been
Hector's. Here another starts from underground, and will not suffer his
mother to sleep:

To thee I call, my once-loved parent, hear,
Nor longer with thy sleep relieve thy care;
Thine eye which pities not is closed--arise;
Ling'ring I wait the unpaid obsequies.

When these verses are sung with a slow and melancholy tune, so as to
affect the whole theatre with sadness, one can scarce help thinking
those unhappy that are unburied:

Ere the devouring dogs and hungry vultures...

He is afraid he shall not have the use of his limbs so well if they are
torn to pieces, but is under no such apprehensions if they are burned:

Nor leave my naked bones, my poor remains,
To shameful violence and bloody stains.

I do not understand what he could fear who could pour forth such
excellent verses to the sound of the flute. We must, therefore, adhere
to this, that nothing is to be regarded after we are dead, though many
people revenge themselves on their dead enemi