As the earth must receive no defilement, the Parsees
would deem it sacrilege to deposit therein their dead for corruption
and decay; and hence have doubtless originated their strange rites
of sepulture, as they believe that the body is thus more readily and
rapidly reduced to its original elements. Streams of water, even the
tiniest rivulets, are deemed too holy to be desecrated by washing
or spitting in them, and still less would they make the water the
receptacle of offal of any sort. To each of these elements, as well as
to the fire, the Parsees still make oblations on their high-days.
It is true that their ceremonies now are less imposing than those
described by Xenophon, when a thousand head of cattle were immolated
at a single festival, four beautiful bulls presented to Jupiter, or
the sky, and a magnificent chariot, drawn by white horses crowned with
flowers and wearing a golden yoke, was offered to the sun; while the
king in his chariot was escorted by princes and great nobles,
two thousand spearmen marching on either side, and three
hundred sceptre-bearers, armed with javelins and mounted on
splendidly-caparisoned horses, bringing up the rear. But those
jubilant days have passed: the Fire-worshipers are in exile, and
have no king to lead them, either in battle against their foes or in
triumphal processions in honor of their gods. Yet is Parseeism not
dead, nor even on the decrease. Sacrifices, numerous and costly, are
still piled upon their altars, the finest cattle are dedicated to
their gods, the flesh being cut up and roasted for the people, while
the Magi cast the caul and a portion of the fat into the fire as
emblematic of the souls of the victims being imbibed by the gods,
while the grosser portions are rejected.
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