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Title: Psyche
The Cult of Souls and Belief in Immortality among the Greeks
Author: Erwin Rohde
Translator: W. Hillis
Release Date: October 17, 2021 [eBook #66555]
Language: English
Produced by: Ed Brandon from material at the Internet Archive
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PSYCHE ***
Psyche
The Cult of Souls and Belief in Immortality among the Greeks
By
ERWIN ROHDE
LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO., LTD.
NEW YORK: HARCOURT, BRACE & COMPANY, INC.
1925
Translated from the eighth edition by
W. B. HILLIS. M.A.
_Printed in Great Britain by Stephen Austin & Sons, Ltd., Hertford._
CONTENTS
PAGE.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VII
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XI
PRELIMINARY NOTE TO THE SEVENTH AND EIGHTH EDITION XIII
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XV
PART I
CHAP.
I. BELIEFS ABOUT THE SOUL AND CULT OF SOULS IN THE HOMERIC
POEMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
II. ISLANDS OF THE BLEST. _Translation_ . . . . . . . . . 55
III. CAVE DEITIES. SUBTERRANEAN _Translation_ . . . . . . 88
IV. HEROES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
V. THE CULT OF SOULS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
I. Cult of Chthonic Deities . . . . . . . . . . . 158
II. Funeral ceremonies and worship of the dead . . 162
III. Traces of the Cult of Souls in the Blood Feud
and Satisfaction for murder . . . . . . . 174
VI. THE ELEUSINIAN MYSTERIES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217
VII. IDEAS OF THE FUTURE LIFE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236
PART II
VIII. ORIGINS OF THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY. THE THRACIAN WORSHIP
OF DIONYSOS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253
IX. DIONYSIAC RELIGION IN GREECE. ITS AMALGAMATION WITH
APOLLINE RELIGION. ECSTATIC PROPHECY. RITUAL
PURIFICATION AND EXORCISM. ASCETICISM . . . . . . . . 282
X. THE ORPHICS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
XI. THE PHILOSOPHERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 362
XII. THE LAY AUTHORS (LYRIC POETS--PINDAR--THE TRAGEDIANS) . . 411
{vi}
XIII. PLATO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 463
XIV. THE LATER AGE OF THE GREEK WORLD . . . . . . . . . . . . . 490
I. Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 490
II. Popular Belief . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 524
APPENDIX
I. Consecration of persons struck by lightning . . . . . . . 581
II. ~maschalismo/s~ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 582
III. ~amu/êtoi, a/gamoi~, Danaids in the lower world . . . . . 586
IV. The Tetralogies of Antiphon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 588
V. Ritual Purification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 588
VI. Hekate and the ~Hekatika\ pha/smata~ . . . . . . . . . . . 590
VII. The Hosts of Hekate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 593
VIII. Disintegration of Consciousness and Reduplication of
Personality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 595
IX. The Great Orphic Theogony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 596
X. Previous Lives of Pythagoras. His Descent to Hades . . . . 598
XI. Initiation considered as Adoption by the god . . . . . . . 601
XII. Magical Exorcisms of the Dead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 603
{{vii}}
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
THIS book offers an account of the opinions held by the Greeks about
the life of the human soul after death, and is thus intended as a
contribution to the history of Greek religion. Such an undertaking
has in a special measure to contend with the difficulties that face
any inquiry into the religious life and thought of the Greeks. Greek
religion was a natural growth, not a special foundation, and the
ideas and feelings which gave it its inward tone and outward shape
never received abstract formulation. It expressed itself in
religious performances alone: it had no sacred books from which we
might determine the inward meaning and interconnexion of the ideas
with which the Greeks approached the gods created by their faith.
The central essence of the religion held by the Greek people, in
spite of this absence of conceptual formulation--or perhaps because
of it--preserved its original character to a remarkable degree: the
speculations and fancies of Greek poets continually refer to this
central nucleus. Indeed the poets and philosophers in such of their
writings as have come down to us are our only authorities for the
religious thought of the Greeks. In the present inquiry they have
naturally had to be our guides for the greater part of the way. But
though under the special conditions of Greek life the religious
views of poets and philosophers represent an important side of Greek
religion, they yet allow us to perceive very clearly the independent
and self-determined position with regard to the ancestral religion
retained by the individual. The individual believer might always, if
his own temper and disposition allowed him, give himself up to the
plain and unsophisticated emotions which had shaped and decided the
faith of the people and the religious performances of popular
~euse/beia~. But we should know very little of the religious ideas
that filled the mind of the believing Greek if we had to do without
the evidence of philosophers and poets (and of some Attic orators as
well) in whose words dumb and inarticulate emotion finds expression.
The inquirer would, however, be entirely on the wrong track {viii}
and be led to some remarkable conclusions who ventured without more
ado to deduce from the religious ideas that find expression in Greek
literature a complete Theology of the Greek _people_. Where direct
literary statements and allusions fail us we are left with nothing
but surmises in face of the religion of the Greeks and its inmost
guiding forces. Of course there are plenty of people of sanguine
temperament and industrious fancy who find no difficulty in
producing for our benefit the most admirable solutions of the
problem. Others in varying degrees of good faith press the emotions
of Christian piety into the service of explaining ancient faith in
gods. Thus injustice is done to both forms of religion and an
understanding of the essentials of Greek belief in its true and
independent reality is made completely impossible. A good example of
this is provided by the Eleusinian Mysteries, and by that favourite
topic of controversy (which has, indeed, received more than its due
share of attention from students of religion), the amalgamation of
the worship of gods and the belief in Souls said to have taken place
therein. Nowhere else has the complete unprofitableness of the
attempt to make use of the shifting ideas and tendencies of modern
civilization to explain the underlying motive forces of these
significant cult practices, been more strikingly and repeatedly
demonstrated. On this head in particular the author of the present
work has renounced all attempts to cast a fitful and ambiguous light
upon the venerable gloom of the subject by the help of the farthing
dip of his own private imaginings. There is no denying that here as
in so many departments of ancient ~euse/beia~ there is something
greater and finer that eludes our grasp. The revealing word, never
having been written down, has been lost. Instead of trying to find a
substitute in modern catch phrases it seems better simply to
describe, in the plainest and most literal fashion, the actual
phenomena of Greek piety exactly as they are known to us. There will
be plenty of opportunity for the author's own suggestions and they
need not always obtrude themselves. The aim of this work is to make
plain the facts of the Greek _Cult of Souls_ and of that belief in
immortality the inner workings of which are only partially
intelligible to our most sympathetic efforts to understand them. To
give a clearer presentation of the origin and development of those
practices and those beliefs; to distinguish the transformations
through which they passed and their relationship with other and
kindred intellectual tendencies; to disentangle the many different
lines of thought and speculation from the inextricable {ix}
confusion in which they lie in many minds (and in many books) and to
let them stand out clearly and distinctly one from another, seemed
particularly desirable. Why this design has not been carried out by
the same methods throughout; why it has sometimes seemed sufficient
to give a bald summary of the essential points, while at other times
certain topics are pursued into their most distant ramifications
(sometimes with apparently irrelevant prolixity), will be obvious
enough to those who are familiar with the subject. Where a more
careful examination of the overflowing mass of detail was to be
attempted advantage has been taken of the Appendix to achieve a
greater, though still only a relative degree of completeness. This
was made possible by the lengthy period which elapsed between the
publication of the two parts of the book. The first half [to the end
of chapter vii] appeared as long ago as the spring of 1890.
Unpropitious circumstances have delayed the completion of the
remainder till the present moment. The two parts could easily be
kept separate (as they have been): in the main they fall apart and
correspond to the two sides of the question indicated in the title
of the book--Cult of Souls and Belief in Immortality. The Cult of
Souls and the faith in immortality may eventually come together at
some points, but they have a different origin and travel most of the
way on separate paths. The conception of immortality in particular
arises from a spiritual intuition which reveals the souls of men as
standing in close relationship, and indeed as being of like
substance, with the everlasting gods. And simultaneously the gods
are regarded as being in their nature like the soul of man, i.e. as
free spirits needing no material or visible body. (It is this
spiritualized view of the gods--not the belief in gods itself as
Aristotle supposes in the remarkable statement quoted by Sextus
Empiricus Adv. Mathematicos, iii, 20 ff.--which arises from the
vision of its own divine nature achieved by the soul ~kath'
heautê/n~ relieved of the body, in ~enthousiasmoi/~ and
~mantei=ai~.) And this conception leads far away from the ideas on
which the Cult of Souls was based.
The publication of the book in two parts has brought with it a
regrettable circumstance for which I must ask the indulgence of
well-disposed readers (that the first half found so many of them is
a fact which I must gratefully acknowledge). As the dimensions of the
whole work grew beyond expectation and almost overstepped the
~me/tron au/tarkes~, the sixteen excursuses which were promised in
{x} the first volume have had to be dropped: the book would
otherwise have been overloaded. So far as they possess independent
interest they will find a place elsewhere. They are real excursuses
and were intended as such, and the proper understanding of the book
will not be affected by their absence.
ERWIN ROHDE.
HEIDELBERG.
_November 1st, 1893._
{{xi}}
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
THE publication of a second edition of this book affords me a
welcome opportunity of making my account more exact and to the point
in certain places; of adding some points that had been overlooked or
omitted; and of noticing with approval or disapproval some divergent
opinions that had obtained currency in the interval. Controversy is,
however, confined within the narrowest limits and to points of minor
importance (and only then in answer to more serious and significant
objections). The plan and--if I may say so--the style of the whole
book demanded throughout, and more especially in the great points at
issue, a purely positive statement of my own views and the results
of my own studies. Such a statement, it may well be imagined, was
not arrived at without being preceded in the mind of the author by a
controversial reckoning with the manifold views and doctrines of
others upon the subjects here dealt with--views which in some cases
he felt obliged to reject. Controversy in this sense lies behind
every page of the book, though as a rule only in a latent condition.
In this condition I have been content to let it remain in this
revised edition of the book. My opinions were not arrived at without
toil and much careful reflection; one view being made to reinforce
another till they were all bound together in a single
closely-knitted whole. Neither further reflection on my part nor the
criticisms of others have shaken my belief in the tenability of
opinions reached in this way. I have therefore ventured to leave my
account unaltered in all its main points. I hope that it contains
its own justification and defence in itself without further
vindication on my part.
Nothing in the plan or execution of the whole or its parts has been
altered; neither have I taken anything away. The book contained
nothing that was superfluous to the attainment of the object that I
had in view. This object, it will be apparent, was not in the least
to provide a brief and compendious statement of the most
indispensable facts about the cult of Souls and the belief in
immortality among the Greeks for the benefit of those who wished to
take a hasty {xii} glance over the subject. Such a hasty picker-up
of knowledge who regards himself--I cannot imagine why--as
peculiarly fitted to criticise my book, has ingenuously besought me,
in view of a second edition which he was kind enough to think
probable, to throw overboard most of what he considered the
superfluous parts of the book. With this request I have not felt
myself able to comply. My book was written for maturer readers who
have passed beyond the school stage and look for something more than
an elementary handbook, and who would be able to understand and
appreciate the plan and intention which led me to draw my material
so widely from many departments of literary and cultural history.
The first edition of the book found many such readers: I may hope
and expect that the second will do the same.
In its revised form the book has been divided for the convenience of
those who use it into two volumes (which correspond with the two
parts in which it was first published). I was urged to take away the
notes that stand at the foot of the text and relegate them to a
place by themselves in a separate appendix. I found, however, that I
could not bring myself to adopt this fashionable modern practice,
which so far as I have experience of it in books published in recent
years seems to me to be inconvenient and to hinder rather than help
that undisturbed appreciation of the text which such an arrangement
is intended to serve. Independent readers who in using the book are
working out the subject for themselves would certainly not desire
the separation of the documentary evidence from the statement of the
author's view. The book has also, to my peculiar satisfaction,
attracted a large number of readers from outside the immediate
circle of professional philologists. Such readers have evidently not
been seriously disturbed by the elaborate and perhaps rather
pedantic aspect of the mysterious disquisitions at the foot of the
page, and have been able to fix their attention upon the clearer
language of the text above. I have therefore decided to remove a few
only of the notes which had grown to independent dimensions to an
appendix at the end of each of the two volumes.
ERWIN ROHDE.
HEIDELBERG.
_November 27th, 1897._
{{xiii}}
PRELIMINARY NOTE TO THE SEVENTH AND EIGHTH EDITIONS
IN supervising together this reprint of "Psyche" we have found
ourselves faced with the question which Schöll and Dieterich had to
decide in bringing out the third edition--whether changes or
additions would be admissible. It went without saying that the text
must remain untouched in the form last given to it by Rohde's own
hand. Nor was it possible to make any additions to the notes without
seriously disturbing the carefully considered architecture of the
whole book. It would have been more possible to add an appendix or
supplementary pamphlet recording the literature of the subject which
has appeared since 1898 and giving an account of the present state
of the questions dealt with by Rohde: as has been done with the
"Griechische Roman" by W. Schmid. But on making the attempt we soon
found that the problem was a different one in the case of "Psyche"
with which (much more than in the other case) all subsequent study of
the history of religion as pursued by all nations has had to reckon,
and from which such study has in no small degree taken its starting
point. We have therefore refrained; and we have also refrained from
remodelling the citations to make them correspond with critical
editions that have since appeared. This process could not be carried
through without, in some places, introducing contradictions with
Rohde's interpretation that would have necessitated more detailed
discussion. Rohde's own method of citation was only seriously
inconvenient in the case of Euripides: here he evidently, as we
observed from about the middle of the first volume onwards, made use
of more than one edition at the same time, and has consequently
quoted lines in accordance with different enumerations. For the
greater assurance and convenience of the reader the lines are
uniformly referred to according to the numbering of Nauck. This task
has been undertaken by our devoted helper Frl. Emilie Boer, who has
also verified, with a very few exceptions, the whole of the
references to ancient writers and inscriptions; {xiv} a considerable
number of errors missed by the author or later editors have thus
been corrected. The minor changes introduced in the third and
following editions--the recording on the margin of the pagination of
the first edition and the valuable enlargement of the index due to
W. Nestle with the assistance of O. Crusius--have all naturally been
retained.
F. BOLL. O. WEINREICH.
HEIDELBERG.
_November, 1920._
{{xv}}
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE
ROHDE is very unsystematic in his mode of quoting from ancient
authorities: he has, for example, four different ways of referring
to the Iliad and the Odyssey, two of referring to Demosthenes and
the Orators, etc. In quoting from the lesser authorities he
sometimes used editions which have since become antiquated. (He even
goes so far as to quote Clem. Alex. by the page and letter of
Heinsius' re-edition of Sylburg.) I have made an attempt to reduce
the number of inconsistencies and to give references where possible
to modern editions. In these and other small ways I have tried to
make the notes--the text I hope is intelligible enough--more
accessible to English readers. I have given references to English
translations of German works (where I have been able to find them);
but I have refrained from adding references to the modern literature
of the subject: most readers of the book will prefer to do that for
themselves. In order to save space I have used abbreviation pretty
freely in quoting names of authors and titles of books. The
abbreviated forms agree generally with those given in Liddell and
Scott (supplemented by the list drawn up for the new edition of the
Lexicon): most of the following may be noted:--
A. (or Aesch.) = Aeschylus.
Amm. = Ammonius.
_AP._ = _Anthologia Palatina_.
Apollod. = Ps.-Apollodorus, _Bibiotheca_ (unless _Epit._ is
added).
A. R. = Apollonius Rhodius.
_Ath. Mitth._ = _Mittheilungen d. deutsch. arch. Inst. zu Athen_.
Aug. = Augustine.
D. (or Dem.) = Demosthenes.
D. C. = Dio Cassius.
D. Chr. = Dio Chrysostom.
D. H. = Dionysius of Halicarnassus (i.e. _Rom. Antiq._
unless otherwise indicated)
D. L. = Diogenes Laertius.
D. P. = Dionysius Periegetes.
D. S. = Diodorus Siculus.
E. (or Eur.) = Euripides.
_Epigr. Gr._ = Kaibel, _Epigrammata Graeca_.
Eun. = Eunapius _Vitae Sophistarum_. {xvi}
Gal. = Galen (vol. and page of Kühn).
_GDI._ = Collitz, _Griechische Dialektinschriften_.
**_Gp._ = _Geoponica_.
Grimm = Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_ transl. as _Teutonic
Mythology_, by J. S. Stallybrass, Lond., 1880.
Heraclid. _Pol._ = Heraclides Ponticus, _Politica_.
Him. = Himerius.
Hipp. = Hippolytus.
Hp. = Hippokrates.
Hsch. = Hesychius.
H. Smyrn. = Hermippus of Smyrna.
Homer is quoted by the majuscules of the Greek alphabet for the books
of the Iliad, by the minuscules for the Odyssey.
_Inscr. Perg._ = _Inschriften von Pergamon_ ed. Fraenkel.
_IPE._ = _Inscriptiones Ponti Euxini_ ed. Latyschev.
Is. = Isaeus.
J. M. = Justin Martyr.
_Leg. Sacr._ = von Prott and Ziehen, _Leges Graecorum Sacrae_.
Pall. = Palladius, _de Re Rustica_.
Phld. = Philodemus.
Pi. = Pindar.
Pl. = Plato.
_PLG._ = Bergk, _Poetae Lyrici Graeci_ ed. 4.
Plot. = Plotinus.
Plu. = Plutarch.
_PMagPar._ = Paris Magical Papyrus ed. Wessely.
_Rh. Mus._ = _**Rheinisches Museum_.
S. (or Soph.) = Sophokles.
S. E. = Sextus Empiricus.
_SIG._ = Dittenberger, _Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum_
ed. 2 (unless otherwise stated).
Str. = Strabo (Casaubon's page).
_Tab. Defix._ = _Tabellae Defixionum_ ed. Wünsch (Appendix to
_CIA_.).
Thphr. = Theophrastus (_Ch._ = _Characters_ ed. Jebb).
Tylor = E. B. Tylor, _Primitive Culture_ ed. 4.
Tz. = Tzetzes.
Vg. = Vergil.
_Vors._ = Diels, _Fragmente der Vorsokratiker_ ed. 4 (vol. 1
unless otherwise indicated).
X. (or Xen.) = Xenophon historicus.
Znb. = Zenobius.
I take this opportunity of thanking my friend Mr. R. Burn, of
Glasgow University, for his invaluable help in these matters.
W. B. HILLIS.
PART I
{{3}}
CHAPTER I
BELIEFS ABOUT THE SOUL AND CULT OF SOULS IN THE HOMERIC POEMS
I
§ 1
To the immediate understanding of mankind nothing seems so
self-evident, nothing so little in need of explanation, as the
phenomenon of Life itself, the fact of man's own existence. On the
other hand, the cessation of this so self-evident existence,
whenever it obtrudes itself upon his notice, arouses man's
ever-renewed astonishment. There are primitive peoples to whom death
whenever it occurs seems an arbitrary abbreviation of life: if it is
not due to visible forces, then some invisible magic must have
caused it. So difficult is it for such peoples to grasp the idea
that the present state of being alive and conscious can come to an
end of its own accord.
Once reflection on such problems is aroused, life itself, standing
as it does on the threshold of all sensation and experience, soon
begins to appear no less mysterious than death--that kingdom into
which no experience reaches. It may even come about that when they
are regarded too long and too hard, light and darkness seem to
change places. It was to a Greek poet that the question suggested
itself: "Who knows then whether Life be not Death, and what we here
call Death be called Life there below?"
From such jaded wisdom and its doubts Greek civilization is still
far removed when, though already at an advanced stage in its
development, it first speaks to us in the Homeric poems. The poet
and his heroes speak with lively feeling of the pains and troubles
of life, both in its individual phases and as a whole. The gods have
allotted a life of pain and misery to men, while they themselves
remain free from care. On the other hand, to turn aside from life
altogether never enters the head of anyone in Homer. Nothing may be
said expressly of the joy and happiness of life, but that is because
such things {4} go without saying among a vigorous folk engrossed in
a movement of progress, whose circumstances were never complicated
and where all the conditions of happiness easily fell to the lot of
the strong in activity and enjoyment. And, indeed, it is only for
the strong, the prudent, and the powerful that this Homeric world is
intended. Life and existence upon this earth obviously belongs to
them--is it not an indispensable condition of the attainment of all
particular good things? As for death--the state which is to follow
our life here--there is no danger of anyone mistaking _that_ for
life. "Do not try and explain away death to me," says Achilles to
Odysseus in Hades; and this would be the answer any Homeric man
would have given to the sophisticated poet, if he had tried to
persuade him that the state of things after life on this earth is
the real life. Nothing is so hateful to man as death and the gates
of Hades: for when death comes it is certain that life--this sweet
life of ours in the sunlight--is done with, whatever else there may
be to follow.
§ 2
But what _does_ follow? What happens when life departs for ever from
the inanimate body?
It is strange that anyone should have maintained (as it has been in
recent times[1\1]) that in any stage of the development of the
Homeric poems the belief can be found that with the moment of death
all is at an end: that nothing survives death. We are not warranted
by any statement in either of the two poems (to be found perhaps in
their oldest parts, as is suggested) nor yet by the tell-tale
silence of the poet, in attributing such an idea either to the poet
or his contemporaries. Wherever the occasion of death is described
we are told how the dead man (still referred to by his name, or his
"Psyche", hastens away into the house of Aïdes--into the kingdom of
Aïdes and the grim Persephoneia; goes down to the darkness below the
earth, to Erebos; or, more vaguely, sinks into the earth itself. In
any case, it is no mere _nothing_ that can enter the gloomy depths,
nor over what does not exist could one suppose that the divine Pair
holds sway below.
But how are we to think of this "Psyche" that, unnoticed during the
lifetime of the body, and only observable when it is "separated"
from the body, now glides off to join the multitude of its kind
assembled in the murky regions of the "Invisible" (Aïdes)? Its name,
like the names given to the {5} "soul" in many languages, marks it
off as something airy and breathlike, revealing its presence in the
breathing of the living man. It escapes out of the mouth--or out of
the gaping wound of the dying--and now freed from its prison
becomes, as the name well expresses it, an "image" (~ei/dôlon~). On
the borders of Hades Odysseus sees floating "the images of those
that have toiled (on earth)". These immaterial images withdrawing
themselves from the grasp of the living, like smoke (_Il._ xxiii,
100) or a shadow (_Od._ xi, 207; x, 495), must at least recognizably
present the general outlines of the once living person. Odysseus
immediately recognizes his mother, Antikleia, in such a
shadow-person, as well as the lately dead Elpenor, and those of his
companions of the Trojan War who have gone before him. The psyche of
Patroklos appearing to Achilleus by night resembles the dead man
absolutely in stature, bodily appearance and expression. The nature
of this shadowy double of mankind, separating itself from man in
death and taking its departure then, can best be realized if we
first make clear to ourselves what qualities it does _not_ possess.
The psyche of Homeric belief does not, as might have been supposed,
represent what we are accustomed to call "spirit" as opposed to
"body". All the faculties of the human "spirit" in the widest
sense--for which the poet has a large and varied vocabulary--are
indeed only active and only possible so long as a man is still
alive: when death comes the complete personality is no longer in
existence. The body, that is the corpse, now becomes mere "senseless
earth" and falls to pieces, while the psyche remains untouched. But
the latter is by no means the refuge of "spirit" and its faculties,
any more than the corpse is. It (the psyche) is described as being
without feeling, deserted by mind and the organs of mind. All power
of will, sensation, and thought have vanished with the
disintegration of the individual man into his component parts. So
far from it being permissible to ascribe the functions of "spirit"
to the psyche, it would be more reasonable to speak of a contrast
between the two. Man is a living creature, conscious of himself and
intelligently active, only so long as the psyche remains within him.
But it is not the psyche which communicates its own faculties to man
and gives him capacity for life together with consciousness, will
and knowledge. It is rather that during the union of the psyche and
the body all the faculties of living and acting lie within the
empire of the body, of which they are functions. Without the
presence of the psyche, the body cannot perceive, feel, or will, but
it does not use these {6} or any of its faculties through or by
means of the psyche. Nowhere does Homer attribute any such function
to the psyche in living man: it is, in fact, only mentioned when its
separation from the living man is imminent or has occurred. As the
body's shadow-image it survives the body and all its vital powers.
If we now ask--as our Homeric psychologists generally do--which, in
the face of this mysterious association between a living body and
its counterfeit the psyche, is the "real" man, we find that Homer in
fact gives contradictory answers. Not infrequently (indeed, in the
first lines of the Iliad) the material body is contrasted,[2\1] as
the "man himself", with the psyche--which cannot therefore be any
organ or component part of the living body. On the other hand, that
which takes its departure at death and hastens into the realm of
Hades is also referred to by the proper name of the person as
"himself"[3\1]--which means that here the shadowy psyche (for
nothing else can go down to Hades) is invested with the name and
value of the complete personality, the "self" of the man. But those
who draw from these phrases the conclusion that either the body or
the psyche must be the "real man" have, in either case,[4\1] left
out of account or unexplained one half of the recorded evidence.
Regarded without prejudice, these apparently contradictory methods
of speaking simply prove that both the visible man (the body and its
own faculties) _and_ the indwelling psyche could be described as the
man's "self". According to the Homeric view, human beings exist
twice over: once as an outward and visible shape, and again as an
invisible "image" which only gains its freedom in death. This, and
nothing else, is the Psyche.
Such an idea--that the psyche should dwell with the living and fully
conscious personality, like an alien and a stranger, a feebler
double of the man, as his "other self"--this may well seem very
strange to us. And yet this is what so-called "savage" peoples,[5\1]
all over the world, actually believe. Herbert Spencer in particular
has shown this most decisively. It is therefore not very surprising
to find the Greeks, too, sharing a mode of thought that lies so
close to the mind of primitive mankind. The earlier age which handed
down to the Greeks of Homer their beliefs about the soul cannot have
failed any more than other nations to observe the facts upon which a
fantastic logic based the conclusion of man's double personality. It
was not the phenomena of sensation, will, perception, or thought in
waking and conscious man which led to this conclusion. It was the
experience of an apparent {7} double of the self in dreaming, in
swoons, and ecstasy, that gave rise to the inference of a two-fold
principle of life in man, and of the existence of an independent,
separable "second self" dwelling within the viable self of daily
life. One has only to listen to the words of a Greek writer of a
later period who, far more explicitly than Homer, describes the
nature of the psyche and at the same time lets us see the origin of
the belief in such an entity. Pindar (fr. 131) tells us that the
body obeys Death, the almighty, but the image of the living creature
lives on ("since this alone is derived from the gods": which, of
course, is not Homeric belief); for it (this _eidôlon_) is
_sleeping_ when the limbs are active, but when the body is asleep it
often reveals the future in a dream. Words could hardly make it
plainer that in the activities of the waking and conscious man, the
image-soul has no part. Its world is the world of sleep. While the
other "I", unconscious of itself, lies in sleep, its double is up
and doing. In other words, while the body of the sleeper lies
wrapped in slumber, motionless, the sleeper in his dream lives and
sees many strange and wonderful things. It is "himself" who does
this (of that there can be no doubt), and yet not the self known and
visible to himself and others; for that lies still as death beyond
the reach of sensation. It follows that there lives within a man a
second self, active in dreaming. That the dream experiences are
veritable realities and not empty fancies for Homer is also certain.
He never says, as later poets often do, that the dreamer "thought"
he saw this or that. The figures seen in dreams are real figures,
either of the gods themselves or a "dream spirit" sent by them, or a
fleeting "image" (eidôlon) that they allow to appear for a moment.
Just as the dreamer's capacity for vision is no mere fancy, so, too,
the objects that he sees are realities. In the same way it is
something real that appears to a man asleep as the shape of a person
lately dead. Since this shape can show itself to a dreamer, it must
of necessity still exist; consequently it survives death, though,
indeed, only as a breath-like image, much as we have seen
reflections of our own faces mirrored in water.[6\1] It cannot,
indeed--this airy substance--be grasped or held like the once viable
self; and hence comes its name, the "psyche". The primeval argument
for such a counterpart of man is repeated by Achilleus himself
(_Il._ xxiii, 103 f.) when his dead friend appears to him and then
vanishes again: so, then, ye Gods, there yet lives in Hades' house a
psyche and shadowy image (of man), but there is no midriff in it
(and consequently none of the faculties which preserve the visible
man alive). {8}
The dreamer, then, and what he sees in his dream proves the
existence of an _alter ego_ in man.[7\1] Man, however, also observes
that his body may suffer a deathlike torpor without the second self
being occupied with dream experiences. In such moments of "swoon",
according to Greek thought and actual Homeric expression, "the
psyche has left the body."[8\1] Where had it gone? No man could
tell. But on this occasion it comes back again: whereupon the
"spirit is gathered again into the midriff". If ever, as happens in
the case of death, the psyche should become completely separated
from the visible body, then the "spirit" will never return. But the
psyche, which in those temporary separations from the body[9\1] did
not perish, will not vanish into nothingness now.
§ 3
So far experience takes us, from which primitive logic arrived at
very much the same conclusions all over the world. But, we may
proceed to ask, where does this liberated psyche go? What becomes of
it? Here begins "the undiscovered country" and it might appear that
at its entrance there was a complete parting of the ways.
Primitive people are accustomed to attribute unlimited powers to the
disembodied "soul"--powers all the more formidable because they are
not seen. Indeed, they refer in part _all_ invisible forces to the
action of "souls", and strain anxiously by means of the richest
offerings within their power to secure for themselves the goodwill
of these powerful spirits. Homer, on the contrary, knows nothing of
any influence exerted by the psyche upon the visible world, and,
consequently, hardly anything of a cult of the psyche. How, indeed,
could the souls (as I may venture to call them without further risk
of misunderstanding) have any such influence? They are all without
exception collected in the realm of Aïdes, far from the living,
separated from them by Okeanos and Acheron, guarded by the
relentless god himself, the inexorable doorkeeper. Only a fabled
hero like Odysseus may for once, perhaps, reach the entrance of that
gloomy kingdom alive: the souls themselves, once they have crossed
the river, never come back--so the soul of Patroklos assures his
friend. How do they get there? The implication seems to be that on
leaving the body the soul passes away, unwilling and complaining of
its fate, but, nevertheless, unresisting, to Hades; and after the
destruction of the body by fire, disappears for ever into the depths
of Erebos. It was only a {9} later poet who, in giving the final
touches to the Odyssey, introduced Hermes, the "Guide of the Dead".
Whether this is an invention of the poet's, or, as appears more
likely, it is borrowed from the ancient folk-belief of some remote
corner of Greece, in the completely rounded circle of Homeric belief
at any rate it is an innovation and an important one. Doubt has
arisen, it appears, whether indeed _all_ the souls must of necessity
pass away into the Unseen; and they are provided with a divine guide
who by his mysteriously compelling summons (_Od._ xxiv, 1) and the
power of his magic wand constrains them to follow him.[10\1]
Down in the murky underworld they now float unconscious, or, at
most, with a twilight half-consciousness, wailing in a shrill
diminutive voice, helpless, indifferent. Of course, flesh, bones,
and sinews,[11\1] the midriff, the seat of all the faculties of mind
and will--these are all gone for ever. They were attached to the
once-visible partner of the psyche, and that has been destroyed. To
speak of an "immortal life" of these souls, as scholars both ancient
and modern have done, is incorrect. They can hardly be said to
_live_ even, any more than the image does that is reflected in the
mirror; and that they prolong to eternity their shadowy
image-existence--where in Homer do we ever find this said? The
psyche may survive its visible companion, but it is helpless without
it. Is it possible to believe that a realistically imaginative,
materially minded people like the Greeks would have regarded as
immortal a creature incapable (once the funeral is over) of
requiring or receiving further _nourishment_--either in religious
cult or otherwise?
The daylight world of Homer is thus freed from spectres of the night
(for even in dreams the psyche is seen no more after the body is
burnt); from those intangible and ghostly essences at whose
unearthly activity the superstitious of every age tremble. The
living are no longer troubled by the dead. The world is governed by
the gods alone; not pale and ghostly phantoms, but palpable and
fully materialized figures, working powerfully everywhere, and
dwelling on the clear mountain tops: "and brightness gleams around
them." No daimonic powers can compare with the gods or can avail
against them; and night does not set free the departed souls of the
dead. The reader starts involuntarily and begins to suspect the
influence of another age, when in a part of Book XX of the Odyssey,
added by a later hand, he reads how shortly before the destruction
of the suitors the clairvoyant soothsayer beholds in hall and
forecourt the soul-phantoms (eidôla) {10} floating in multitudes and
hurrying down to the darkness under the earth: "the sun was darkened
in the heaven and a thick mist came over all." The later poet has
been very successful in suggesting the terror awakened by a
foreboding of tragedy; but such terror in the face of the doings of
the spirit world is entirely un-Homeric.
§ 4
Were the Greeks, then, always so untroubled by such fears of the
souls of the dead? Was there never any _cult_ of disembodied
spirits, such as was not only known to all primitive peoples
throughout the world, but was also quite familiar to nations
belonging to the same family as the Greeks, for instance, the
Indians and the Persians? The question and its answer have more than
a passing interest. In later times--long subsequent to Homer--we
find in Greece itself a lively worship of ancestors and a general
cult of the departed. Were it demonstrable--as it is generally
assumed without proof--that the Greeks only at this late period
first began to pay a religious cult to the souls of the dead, this
fact would give very strong support to the oft-repeated theory that
the cult of the dead arose from the ruins of a previous worship of
the gods. Anthropologists are accustomed to deny this and to regard
the worship of disembodied souls as one of the earliest forms (if
not as originally the only form) of the reverence paid to unseen
powers. The peoples, however, upon whose conditions of life and
mental conceptions such views are generally based, have indeed
behind them a long past, but no history. What is to prevent pure
speculation and theorizing in conformity with the preconceived idea
just mentioned (which is almost elevated to the position of a
doctrine of faith by some comparative religionists) from introducing
into the dim past of such savage peoples the primitive worship of
gods, out of which the worship of the dead may then subsequently
arise? But _Greek_ religious development can be traced from Homer
onwards for a long period; and there we find the certainly
remarkable fact that a cult of the dead, unknown to Homer, only
appears later, in the course of a long and vigorous expansion of
religious ideas in after times; or, at least, then shows itself more
plainly--but not, it is important to notice, as the precipitate of a
dying belief in gods and worship of the gods, but rather as a
collateral development by the side of that highly developed form of
piety.
Are we, then, really to believe that the cult of disembodied {11}
spirits was absolutely unknown to the Greeks of pre-Homeric times?
Such an assertion, if made without due qualification, is
contradicted by a closer study of the Homeric poems themselves.
It is true that Homer represents for us the earliest great stage in
the evolution of Greek civilization of which we have clear evidence.
But the poems do not stand at the beginning of that evolution.
Indeed, they only stand at the beginning of Greek Epic poetry--so
far as this has been transmitted to us--because the natural
greatness and wide popularity of the Iliad and the Odyssey secured
their preservation in writing. Their very existence and the degree
of artistic finish which they show, oblige us to suppose that behind
them lies a long history of heroic "Saga" poetry. The conditions
which they describe and imply point to a long course of previous
development--from nomadic to city life, from patriarchal rule to the
organization of the Greek Polis. And just as the maturity of
material development tells its tale, so do the refinement and
maturity of culture, the profound and untrammelled knowledge of the
world, the clarity and simplicity of thought reflected in them. All
these things go to show that before Homer, in order to reach Homer,
the Greek world must have thought and learned much--must, indeed,
have unlearned and undone much. As in art, so in all the products of
civilization, what is simple, appropriate, and convincing is not the
achievement of beginners, but the reward of prolonged study. It is
prima facie unthinkable that during the whole length of Greek
evolution before Homer, religion alone, the relationship between man
and the invisible world, should have remained stationary at any one
point. It is not from the comparison of religious beliefs and their
development among kindred nations, nor even from the study of
apparently primitive ideas and usages in the religious life of the
Greeks themselves of later times, that we are to seek the truth
about the religious customs of that remote period which is obscured
for us by the intervening mass of the Homeric poems. Comparative
studies of this kind are valuable in their way, but must only be
used to give further support to the insight derived from less easily
misleading methods of inquiry. For us the only completely
satisfactory source of information about pre-Homeric times is Homer
himself. We are allowed--indeed, we are forced--to conclude that
there have been change in conceptions and customs, if, in that
otherwise so uniform and rounded Homeric world, we meet with
isolated occurrences, customs, forms of speech that contradict the
{12} normal atmosphere of Homer and can only be explained by
reference to a world in all essentials differently orientated from
his own and for the most part kept in the background by Homer. All
that is necessary is to open our eyes, freed from preconceived
ideas, to the "rudiments" ("survivals", as they are better called by
English scholars) of a past stage of civilization discoverable in
the Iliad and Odyssey themselves.
§ 5
Such rudiments of a once vigorous soul-worship are not hard to find
in Homer. In particular, we may refer to what the Iliad tells us of
the manner in which the dead body of Patroklos is dealt with. The
reader need only recall the general outline of the story. In the
evening of the day upon which Hektor has been slain, Achilles with
his Myrmidons sings the funeral dirge to his dead friend: they go
three times in procession round the body, Achilles laying his
"murderous hands" on the breast of Patroklos and calling upon him
with the words: "Hail, Patroklos mine, even in Aïdes'
dwelling-place; what I vowed to thee before is now performed; Hektor
lies slain and is the prey of dogs, and twelve noble Trojan youths
will I slay at thy funeral pyre." After they have laid aside their
arms he makes ready the funeral feast for his companions--bulls,
sheep, goats, and pigs are killed, "and all around, in beakers-full,
the blood flowed round the corpse." During the night the soul of
Patroklos appears to Achilles demanding immediate burial. In the
morning the host of the Myrmidons marches out in arms, bearing the
body in their midst. The warriors lay locks of their hair, cut off
for the purpose, upon the body, and last of all Achilles places his
own hair in the hand of his friend--it was once pledged by his
father to Spercheios the River-god, but Patroklos must now take it
with him, since return to his home is denied to Achilles. The
funeral pyre is got ready, many sheep and oxen slaughtered. The
corpse is wrapped in their fat, while their carcasses are placed
beside it; jars of oil and honey are set round the body. Next, four
horses are killed, two dogs belonging to Patroklos, and last of all
twelve Trojan youths taken prisoner for this purpose by Achilles.
All these are burnt together with the corpse, and Achilles spends
the whole night pouring out dark wine upon the earth, calling the
while upon the psyche of Patroklos. Only when morning comes is the
fire extinguished with wine; the bones of Patroklos are collected
and laid in a golden casket and entombed within a mound. {13}
Here we have a picture of the funeral of a chieftain which, in the
solemnity and ceremoniousness of its elaborate detail, is in
striking conflict with the normal Homeric conception of the
nothingness of the soul after its separation from the body. A full
and rich sacrifice is here offered to such a soul. This sacrifice is
inexplicable if the soul immediately upon its dissolution flutters
away insensible, helpless and powerless, and therefore incapable of
enjoying the offerings made to it. It is therefore not unnatural
that a method of interpretation which isolates Homer as far as
possible and adheres closely to his own fixed and determinate range
of ideas, should attempt to deny the sacrificial character of the
offerings made on this occasion.[12\1] We may well ask, however,
what else but a sacrifice, i.e. a repast offered in satisfaction of
the needs of the person honoured (in this case the psyche), can be
intended by this stream of blood about the corpse; this slaughtering
and burning of cattle and sheep, horses and dogs, and finally of
twelve Trojan prisoners on or at the funeral pyre? To explain it all
as a mere performance of pious duties, as is often done in
interpreting many of the gruesome pictures of Greek sacrificial
ceremonies, is impossible here. Besides, Homer often tells us of
merely pious observances in honour of the dead, and they are of a
very different character. And the most horrible touch of all (the
human sacrifice is not put in simply to satisfy Achilles' lust for
vengeance--twice over does Achilles call to the soul of Patroklos
with the words: "To _you_ do I bring what I formerly promised to
_you_" (_Il._ xxiii, 20 ff., 180 ff.).[13\1] The whole series of
offerings on this occasion is precisely of the kind which we may
take as typical of the oldest sort of sacrificial ritual such as we
often find in later Greek religion in the cultus of the infernal
deities. The sacrificial offerings are completely burnt in honour of
the Daimon and are not shared between the bystanders as in the case
of other offerings. If such "holocausts", when offered to the
Chthonic and some of the Olympian deities, are to be regarded as
sacrificial in character, then it is unjustifiable to invent some
other meaning for the performances at the funeral pyre of Patroklos.
The offering of wine, oil, and honey, at least, are normal in
sacrificial rituals of later times. Even the severed lock of hair
spread out over the dead body or laid in the cold hand is a well
known sacrificial tribute, and must be supposed such here as much as
in later Greek ceremonial or in that of many other peoples.[14\1] In
fact, this gift in particular, symbolically representing as it does
a more valuable sacrifice by means of another and less important
{14} object (in the giving of which only the goodwill of the giver
is to be considered)--this very offering, like all such symbolical
substitutions, bears witness to the long duration and past
development of the cultus in which it occurs--in this case of the
worship of the dead in pre-Homeric times.
The whole narrative presupposes the idea that by the pouring out of
streams of blood, by offerings of wine and burnt offerings of human
beings and of cattle, the psyche of a person lately dead can be
refreshed, and its resentment mollified. At any rate, it is thus
thought of as accessible to human prayers and as remaining for some
time in the neighbourhood of the sacrifice made to it. This
contradicts what we expect in Homer, and, in fact, just in order to
make this unusual performance plausible to an audience no longer
familiar with the idea, and to make it admissible on a special
occasion, the poet (though the actual course of his story does not
really require it)[15\1] makes the psyche of Patroklos appear by
night to Achilles. And, in fact, to the end of the narrative
Achilles repeatedly greets the soul of Patroklos as though it were
present.[16\1] The unusual way in which Homer deals with this whole
affair, so full of primeval, savage ideas as it is, seems, indeed,
to betray a certain vagueness about what its real meaning may be.
That the writer has certain qualms on the subject is indicated by
the brevity--not at all like Homer--with which the most shocking
part of the story, the slaughter of human beings, together with
horses and dogs, is hurried over. But the thing to be noted
particularly is that the poet is certainly not devising such
unpleasant circumstances for the first time out of his own
imagination. This epic picture of the worship of the dead was
adopted by Homer from an earlier source (whatever that source may
have been),[17\1] and not invented by him. He makes it serve his
special purpose, which is to provide a satisfactory climax to the
series of vivid and emotional scenes beginning with the tragic death
of Patroklos and ending with the death and dishonouring of the
champion of Troy. After such emotional exaltation the overstrained
nerves must not be allowed to relax too suddenly; a last flicker of
the superhuman rage and grief that made Achilles rave so furiously
against his foes must show itself in the serving up of this awful
banquet to the soul of his friend. It is as though a primitive and
long-suppressed savagery had broken out again for a last effort.
Only when all is over does the soul of Achilles find repose in
melancholy resignation. More calmly he calls upon the rest of the
Achæans to take their seats "in a wide circle round about"; and
there follows the {15} description of those splendid "Games", a
subject that must have awakened the enthusiasm of every experienced
athlete in the audience--and was there ever a Greek who was not an
athlete? It is true that athletic contests are described by Homer
mainly on account of their own peculiar interest and for the sake of
the artistic effects that their description allowed. Still, the
selection of such games as a fitting conclusion to a chieftain's
funeral cannot be fully understood except as a survival of an
ancient and once vigorous worship of the dead. Such athletic
contests in honour of the great immediately after their death are
often referred to by Homer;[18\1] indeed, a funeral is the _only_
occasion[19\1] recognized by him as suitable for the exhibition of
athletic prize-competitions. The practice never quite died out, and
it became usual in later post-Homeric times to mark the festivals of
Heroes and, later of gods, too, by Games which gradually became
regularly repeated performances, developed from the traditional
contests that had concluded the funeral ceremonies of great men.
Now, no one doubts that the _Agon_ at the festival of a Hero or a
god formed part of their religious worship. It is only reasonable,
then, to suppose that the funeral games which accompany the burial
of a chieftain (and are confined to that one occasion) belong to the
religious _cult_ of the dead, and to recognize that such a mode of
worship can only have been introduced at a time when men regarded
the soul, in whose honour the ceremony took place, as capable of
sharing consciously in its enjoyment. Even Homer is certainly
conscious of the fact that the games, like the rest of the offerings
made then, were intended for the satisfaction of the dead and not
solely for the entertainment of the living.[20\1] We may also cite
the declared opinion of Varro, who says that the dead in whose
honour funeral games are celebrated are thereby proved to have been
regarded originally, if not as gods, at least as very powerful
spirits.[21\1] Of course, this feature of the original cultus of the
soul was very easily stripped of its real meaning--it recommended
itself quite apart from its religious significance--and for that
very reason remained longer than other performances of the kind in
general use.
If we now survey the whole series of ritual acts directed to the
honouring of the soul of Patroklos, we can deduce from the
seriousness of these attempts to please the disembodied spirit what
must have been the strength of the original conception--how vivid
must have been the impression of enduring sensibility, of formidable
power possessed by a soul {16} to whom such a cult was offered. It
is true of the cult of the dead, as of any other sacrificial custom,
that its perpetuation is due solely to the hope of avoiding hurt and
obtaining assistance at the hands of the Unseen.[22\1] A generation
that no longer anticipated either help or harm from the "Souls"
might be ready to perform last offices of all kinds to the deserted
body out of pure _piety_, and to offer to the dead a certain
traditional reverence. But this would testify rather to the grief of
those left behind than to any special reverence felt for the
departed.[23\1] This is mostly the case in Homer. It is not,
however, what we should call piety, but much rather mistrust of a
"ghost" become powerful through its separation from the body, that
explains the exaggerated fullness of the funeral offerings that are
made at the burial of Patroklos. They cannot be made to fit in with
the ordinary circle of Homeric ideas. Indeed, that this circle of
ideas excluded all misgiving at the possible action of unseen
spirits is quite clearly shown by the fact that the honours paid
even to a dead man held in such veneration as Patroklos are confined
to the solitary occasion of his funeral. As the psyche of Patroklos
himself assures his friend, once the burning of the body is
completed, it, the psyche, will take its departure to Hades, never
to return.[24\1] It is easy to see that from this point of view
there was no motive whatever that could lead to a permanent cult of
the soul such as was common among the Greeks of later times. But it
should be noticed further that the luxurious repast offered to the
soul of Patroklos on the occasion of his funeral had no point if the
goodwill of the soul which was to be assured by that process would
never have an opportunity in the future of making itself felt. The
contradiction between Homeric belief and Homeric practice on this
occasion is complete, and shows decisively that the traditional view
that would see in this description of soul-worship at the funeral of
Patroklos an effort after _new_ and more lively ideas of the life
after death, must certainly be wrong. When new surmises, wishes,
conjectures begin to arise and seek a means of expression, the new
ideas generally find incomplete utterance in the old and
inappropriate external forms, but express themselves more clearly
and certainly (generally with some tendency to exaggeration) in the
less conservative words and language of men. Here just the opposite
occurs: every word the poet utters about the circumstances
contradicts the elaborately wrought ceremonial which those
circumstances call forth. It is impossible to point to a single
touch that accords with the belief implied by the {17} ceremonial.
The poet's bias is a different and, indeed, an opposite one. Of this
much at least there cannot be the slightest doubt: the funeral
ceremonies over the body of Patroklos are not the first budding of a
new principle, but rather represent a "vestige" of a more vigorous
worship of the dead in earlier times, a worship that must once have
been a complete and sufficient expression of belief in the great and
enduring power of the disembodied spirit. It has, however, been
preserved unaltered into an age that, with quite other religious
beliefs, no longer understands, or at best half-guesses at the sense
of such strange ceremonial observances. Thus ritual generally
outlives both the state of mind and the belief which originally gave
rise to it.
§ 6
Neither the Iliad nor the Odyssey contains anything that can equal
the scenes at the funeral of Patroklos as evidence of primitive
worship of the dead. But even the ordinary forms of interment of the
dead are not entirely without such "vestigial" features. The dead
man's eyes and mouth are closed,[25\1] the body is washed and
anointed, and after being wrapped in a clean linen cloth is laid
upon a bier,[26\1] and the funeral dirge begins.[27\1] It is hardly
possible to see even the remotest, lingering, reminiscence of a once
vigorous worship of the dead in such performances as these; or in
the very simple burial customs that follow the burning of the body;
the bones are collected in a jar or a casket and buried under a
mound, and a post set up to mark the place as a "grave-mound".[28\1]
But when we find that the body of Elpenor, in accordance with the
command issued by his psyche to Odysseus (_Od._ xi, 74), is burned
together with his weapons (_Od._ xii, 13); when, further, we read
that Achilles burnt the weapons of his overthrown foe together with
his body on the funeral pyre (_Il._ vi, 418), it is impossible not
to feel that we have here, too, survivals of an ancient belief that
the soul in some mysterious fashion was capable of making use of
these objects that are burnt along with its discarded bodily
envelope. No one doubts that this is the reason for such a custom
when it meets us in the case of other nations; with the Greeks, too,
it must have had an equally good foundation, however little such is
to be discovered in the ordinary Homeric view of the soul. The
custom, moreover, more precisely described in these cases, was of
general observance; we often hear how the completeness of a burial
requires the burning of the possessions of the dead along with the
body.[29\1] We cannot {18} tell to what extent the duty of offering
to the dead _all_ his movable possessions[30\1] (a duty originally
without doubt interpreted quite literally) had come in Homeric times
to be interpreted in a symbolical sense--a process which reached its
lowest stage in the custom prevalent in later times of presenting an
obol "for the Ferryman of the Dead". Finally, the "funeral feast"
offered by the king to the mourning people either after the funeral
of a chieftain (_Il._ xxiv, 802, 665), or before the burning of his
body (_Il._ xxiii, 29 ff.), could only have derived its full meaning
from an ancient belief that the soul of the person thus honoured
could itself take a share in the feast. In the banquet in honour of
Patroklos the dead man is given a definite portion--the blood of the
slaughtered animals which is poured round his body (_Il._ xxiii,
34). Like the funeral games, this banquet is apparently intended to
propitiate the soul of the dead man. Consequently, we find even
Orestes, after slaying Aigisthos, his father's murderer, offering
him a funeral feast (_Od._ iii, 309)--not, surely, in a mood of
simple "piety". The custom of inviting the whole people, on the
occasion of important funerals, to such a banquet no longer appears
in later times; it has little resemblance to the funeral feasts
shared by the relations of the dead man (~peri/deipna~) that were
afterwards customary; it is far closer to the great _cenæ ferales_
that accompanied the _silicernia_ in Rome, to which the relations of
the dead man, if he were an important person, invited the whole
population.[31\1] After all, it is no harder to understand the
underlying conception of the soul in this case sharing the feast
with the whole people, than it is to understand the same conception
when applied to the great sacrifices to the gods which, though the
congregation partakes, are, in name and in fact, essentially
"Banquets of the Gods" (_Od._ iii, 336).
Such are the relics of ancient soul-worship to be found within the
limits of the Homeric world. Further attention to the spirits of the
dead beyond the time of the funeral was prevented by the deeply
ingrained conviction that after the burning of the body the psyche
was received into the inaccessible world of the Unseen, from which
no traveller returns. But, in order to secure this complete
departure of the soul, it is necessary for the body to be burnt.
Though we do occasionally read in the Iliad or the Odyssey that
immediately after death and before the burning of the body "the
psyche departed to Hades",[32\1] the words must not be taken too
literally; the soul certainly flies off at once towards Hades, but
it hovers now between the realms of the living and {19} the dead
until it is received into the final safekeeping of the latter after
the burning of the body. The psyche of Patroklos appearing by night
to Achilles declares this; it prays for immediate burial in order
that it may pass through the door of Hades. Until then the other
shadow-creatures prevent its entrance and bar its passage across the
river, so that it has to wander restlessly round the house of Aïs of
the wide gate (_Il._ xxiii, 71 ff.). This hastening off towards the
house of Hades is again all that is meant when it is said elsewhere
of Patroklos himself (_Il._ xvi, 856) that the psyche departed out
of his limbs to the house of Hades. In exactly the same way it is
said of Elpenor, the companion of Odysseus, that "his soul descended
to Hades" (_Od._ x, 560). This soul meets his friend, nevertheless,
later on, at the entrance of the Shadow-world, not yet deprived of
its senses like the rest of the dwellers in that House of Darkness;
not until the destruction of its physical counterpart is complete
can it enter into the rest of Hades. Only through fire are the souls
of the dead "appeased" (_Il._ vii, 410). So long, then, as the
psyche retains any vestige of "earthliness" it possesses some
feeling still, some awareness of what is going on among the
living.[33\1]
But once the body is destroyed by fire, then is the psyche relegated
to Hades; no return to this earth is permitted to it, and not a
breath of this world can penetrate to it there. It cannot even
return in thought. Indeed, it no longer thinks at all, and knows
nothing more of the world beyond. The living also forget one so
completely cut off from themselves (_Il._ xxii, 389). What, then,
should tempt them, during the rest of their lives here, to try to
hold communication with the dead by means of a _cult_?
§ 7
The practice of cremation itself will perhaps give us one last piece
of evidence that there had been a time when the idea of the
prolonged sojourn of the disembodied spirit in the realm of the
living and its power of influencing the survivors existed among the
Greeks. Homer knows of no other kind of funeral than that of fire.
On a funeral pyre are burnt the bodies of king or leader with the
most solemn ritual; those of the common people fallen in war are
given to the flames with less ceremony; none are buried. We may well
ask whence comes this custom, and what is its meaning for Greeks of
the Homeric age? This means of disposing of the bodies of the dead
is not by any means the most simple and obvious; it {20} is far
easier to carry out, and far less expensive, to bury them in the
earth. It has been suggested that the custom of cremation as
observed by Persians, Germans, Slavs, and other peoples, is
inherited from a nomadic period. The wandering horde has no
permanent habitation in which or near which the body of the beloved
dead can be buried and perpetual sustenance offered to his soul.
Unless, therefore, as is the custom with some nomadic tribes, the
dead body is given up to be the prey of beasts or weather, it might
seem a natural idea to reduce it to ashes and carry the remains,
preserved in a light jar, along with the tribe on its further
journeyings.[34\1] Whether such practical reasonings can have had so
much influence in a connexion that is generally governed entirely by
fancy, and in which practical considerations are altogether
scouted--I shall leave undecided. But, in any case, if we postulate
a nomadic origin for the practice of burning the dead among the
Greeks, we should have to go back altogether too far into the past
to explain a mode of behaviour that, by no means exclusively
practised in early times by the Greeks, becomes absolutely
prescriptive in a period when they have long ceased to wander. The
Asiatic Greeks, and in particular the Ionians, whose popular beliefs
and customs are, in general outline, at least, reproduced for us in
Homer, deserted one settled habitation in order to found another.
Cremation then must have been so permanently established among them
that it never entered their heads to seek any other method of
disposing of their dead. In Homer not only the Greeks before Troy
and Elpenor, far away from home, are burnt when they die; Eëtion,
too, in his own home is given a funeral pyre by Achilles (_Il._ vi,
418). Hektor's body is burnt in the middle of Troy and the Trojans
themselves in their own native land burn their dead (_Il._ vii). The
box or urn that holds the cremated bones of the dead is buried in a
mound; the ashes of Patroklos, Achilles, Antilochos, and Aias rest
on foreign soil (_Od._ iii, 109 ff.; xxiv, 76 ff.). It never occurs
to Agamemnon that if Menelaos dies before Ilios his brother's grave
could be anywhere else than at Troy (_Il._ iv, 174 ff.). There is,
therefore, evidently no intention on the part of the living of
taking the remains of the dead with them on their return home;[35\1]
and this cannot be the object of cremation. It will be necessary to
look for some principle more in accordance with primitive modes of
thought than such merely practical considerations. Jakob Grimm[36\1]
suggested that the burning of the corpse might have been intended as
an offering of the dead man to the gods. Among {21} the Greeks this
could only mean the gods of the lower world; but nothing in Greek
belief or ritual suggests such a grim intention.[37\1] The real
purpose aimed at in cremation is not so far to seek. Since the
destruction of the body by fire is supposed to result in the
complete separation of the spirit from the land of the living,[38\1]
it must be assumed that this result is also _intended_ by the
survivors who employ the means in question; and consequently that
the complete banishment of the psyche once and for all into the
other world is the real purpose and the original occasion of the
practice of cremation. Isolated expressions of opinion among the
nations that have practised the custom do, as a matter of fact,
indicate as its object the speedy and entire separation of soul from
body.[39\1] The exact nature of the intention varies with the state
of belief about the soul. When the Indians turned from the custom of
burying their dead to that of burning them, they were actuated, it
appears, by the idea that the sooner and more completely the soul
was freed from the body and its limitations, the more easily would
it reach the Paradise of the Just.[40\1] Of the purifying effects of
the fire implied in this conception, the Greeks knew nothing until
the idea was revived in later times.[41\1] The Greeks of the Homeric
age, innocent of any such "Kathartic" notion, thought only of the
destructive powers of that element to which they entrusted the body
of their dead, and of the benefit that they were conferring upon the
soul in freeing it by fire from the lifeless body, thus adding their
assistance to its own efforts to get free.[42\1] Nothing can destroy
the psyche's visible counterpart more quickly than fire. If, then,
the body is burnt and the most treasured possessions of the dead man
consumed along with it, no tie remains that can detain the soul any
longer in the world of the living.
Cremation, therefore, is intended to benefit the dead, whose soul no
longer wanders unable to find rest; but still more the living, for
they will not be troubled by ghosts that are securely confined to
the depths of the earth. The Greeks of Homer, accustomed by long
usage to the burning of the dead, are free from all fears of
haunting "ghostly" presences. But when the practice of the
fire-funeral was first adopted, that which was to be guarded against
in the future by the destruction of the body with fire must have
been a real cause of fear.[43\1] The souls that were so anxiously
relegated to the other world of the Unseen must have been feared as
awesome inhabitants of this world. And so, from whatever source it
may have come to them,[44\1] the custom of cremation gives firm
ground for {22} supposing that at some period of their history the
belief in the power and activity of the spirits of the dead and
their influence upon the living--a subject of fear rather than
reverence--must have been prevalent amongst the Greeks; even though
only a few scattered hints still bear witness to such beliefs in the
Homeric poems.
§ 8
And evidence of these ancient beliefs we can now see with our eyes
and touch with our hands. Owing to an inestimable series of
fortunate circumstances, we are enabled to catch a glimpse of a far
distant period of Greek history, which not only supplies a
background to Homer, but makes him cease to be the earliest source
of our information upon Greek life and thought. He is brought
suddenly much nearer, perhaps deceptively nearer, to ourselves. The
last decades of excavation in the citadel and lower town of Mycenæ
and other sites in the Peloponnese right into the centre of the
peninsula and as far northwards as Attica and Thessaly, have
resulted in the discovery of graves--shaft-graves, chamber-graves,
and elaborately constructed domed vaults, which were built and
walled up in the period before the Dorian invasion. These graves
prove to us--what was already hinted at by a few isolated
expressions in Homer[45\1]--that the Greek "Age of Burning" was
preceded, as in the case of the Persians, Indians, and Germans, by a
period in which the dead were buried in the ground intact.[46\1] The
lords and ladies of golden Mycenæ, and lesser folk, too (in the
graves at Nauplia, in Attica, etc.), were buried when they died.
Chieftains take with them into the grave a rich paraphernalia of
gorgeous furniture and ornaments--unburnt like their own bodies;
they rest upon a bed of small stones, and are covered by a layer of
loam and pebbles;[47\1] traces of smoke and remains of ashes and
charred wood bear witness to the fact that the dead were laid upon
the place where the "sacrifice for the dead" had already been made;
upon the hearth where offerings had been previously burnt inside the
grave chamber.[48\1] This may very well be a burial procedure of the
most primeval antiquity. Our oldest "Giants'" graves, in whose
treasures no metal of any kind is found, and whose age is on that
account considered to be pre-Teutonic, exhibit similar features.
Either on the ground, or, occasionally, on a specially prepared
basis of fire-brick, the sacrificial fire is lighted, and, when it
has burnt out, the corpse is set down upon the place and given {23}
a covering of sand, loam, and stone.[49\1] Remains of burnt
sacrificial animals (sheep and goats) have also been found in the
graves at Nauplia and elsewhere.[50\1] In conformity with such
different burial customs, the conceptions then held of the nature
and powers of the disembodied spirits must have differed widely from
those of the Homeric world. Offerings to the dead at a funeral occur
in Homer only on special and isolated occasions and accompanied by
an obsolete and half-understood ritual. Here they were the regular
procedure both with rich and poor alike. But why should they have
made offerings to their dead if they did not believe in their power?
And why should they have taken away gold and jewellery and art
treasures of all kinds and in astonishing quantities from the living
and given them to the dead if they had not believed that the dead
could find enjoyment in their former possessions even in the grave?
Where the material body still remains intact, there the second self
can at least occasionally return. Its treasured possessions laid by
its side in the tomb are there to prevent its appearing uninvited in
the outer world.[51\1]
Supposing, however, that the soul could return if and where it
liked, it is evident that the cult of the dead would not be confined
to the occasion of the funeral. And, indeed, that very
circumstance--the prolongation of the cult paid to the dead beyond
the time of the funeral--of which we could not find a vestige in
Homer, can at last (as it seems to me) be traced in pre-Homeric
Mycenæ. Over the middle one of four shaft-graves found on the
citadel stands an altar which can only have been placed there after
the grave was closed and sealed up.[52\1] It is a round altar,
hollow inside, and not closed in at the bottom; in fact, a sort of
funnel standing directly upon the earth. If, now, the blood of the
victim, mingled with the various drink-offerings, were poured down
into this receptacle, the whole would flow downwards into the ground
beneath and to the dead man lying there. This is no altar (~bômo/s~)
such as was in use in the worship of the gods above, but a
sacrificial hearth (~escha/ra~) for the worship of the inhabitants
of the underworld. This structure corresponds closely with the
description we have of the hearths upon which offerings were made in
a later age to "Heroes", i.e. the souls of transfigured human
beings.[53\1] Here, then, we have a contrivance for the permanent
and repeated worship of the dead; for such worship alone can this
structure have been intended. The funeral offering to the dead had
already been completed inside the grave-chamber. We thus find a {24}
meaning in the "beehive" tombs, for the vaulted main-chamber, beside
which the corpse lay in a smaller chamber by itself. They were
evidently intended to allow sacrifices to be made inside them--and
not once only.[54\1] At least this is the purpose which the outer
chamber serves elsewhere in double-vaulted graves. The evidence of
the eye is therefore able to establish the truth of what could only
be made out with difficulty from the Homeric poems. We can thus see
that there had been a time in which the Greeks, too, believed that
after the separation of body and soul the psyche did not entirely
cease from intercourse with the upper world. Such a belief naturally
called forth a cult of the soul, which lasted on even when the
method of burying the body had changed, and even survived into
Homeric times, when, with the prevalence of other beliefs, such
observances ceased to have any meaning.
II
Homer consistently assumes the departure of the soul into an
inaccessible land of the dead where it exists in an unconscious
half-life. There it is without clear self-consciousness and
consequently neither desires nor wills anything. It has no influence
on the upper world, and consequently no longer receives any share of
the worship of the living. The dead are beyond the reach of any
feelings whether of fear or love. No means exists of forcing or
enticing them back again. Homer knows nothing of necromancy or of
oracles of the dead,[55\1] both common in later Greek life. Gods
come into the poems and take part in the action of the story; the
souls of the departed never do. Homer's immediate successors in the
Epic tradition think quite differently on this point; but for Homer
the soul, once relegated to Hades, has no further importance.
If we think how different it must have been before the time of
Homer, and how different it certainly was after him, we can hardly
help feeling surprise at finding at this early stage of Greek
culture such extraordinary freedom from superstitious fears in that
very domain where superstition is generally most deeply rooted.
Inquiries, however, into the origin and cause of such an untroubled
attitude must be made very cautiously and a completely conclusive
answer must not be expected. More especially it must be borne in
mind that in these poems we have to do, directly and immediately, at
least, only with the poet and his circle. The Homeric Epos can only
be called "folk poetry" in the sense that it was adapted to the {25}
acceptance of the whole family of Greek-speaking people who welcomed
it eagerly and transformed it to their own uses; and not because the
"folk" in some mystical sense had a share in its composition. Many
hands contributed to the composition of the poem, but they merely
carried it further in the general direction which had been given to
it not by the "Folk" or by the "Saga" tradition, as is sometimes too
confidently asserted, but by the authority of the greatest poetic
genius that the Greeks or, indeed, mankind ever knew. The tradition
once formed was handed on by a close corporation of master-poets and
their pupils who preserved, disseminated, continued and imitated the
original great poet's work. If, then, we find on the whole, and
apart from a few vagaries in detail, a single unified picture of the
world, of gods and men, life and death, given in these two poems,
that is the picture which shaped itself in the mind of Homer and was
impressed upon his work, and afterwards preserved by the Homeridai.
It is plain that the freedom, almost the freethinking, with which
every possible occurrence in the world is regarded in these poems,
cannot ever have been characteristic of a whole people or race. And
not only the animating spirit, but even the outward shape that is
given in the two epic poems to the ideal world surrounding and
ruling over the world of men, is the work of the poet. It was no
priestly theology that gave him his picture of the gods. The popular
beliefs of the time, each peculiar to some countryside, canton, or
city, must, if left to themselves, have split up into even more
contradictory varieties of thought than they did in later times when
there existed some few religious institutions common to all Hellas
to act as centres of union. The poet alone must have been
responsible for the conception and consistent execution of the
picture of a single and unified world of gods, confined to a select
company of sharply characterized heavenly beings, grouped together
in certain well-recognized ways and dwelling together in a single
place of residence above the earth. If we listened to Homer alone we
should suppose that the innumerable local cults of Greece, with
their gods closely bound to the soil, hardly existed. Homer ignores
them almost entirely. His gods are pan-Hellenic, Olympian. In fact,
in his picture of the gods, Homer fulfilled most completely his
special poetic task of reducing confusion and superfluity to
uniformity and symmetry of design--the very task which Greek
idealism in art continually set before itself. In his picture Greek
beliefs about the gods _appear_ absolutely uniform--as uniform as
dialect, political condition, manners, {26} and morals. In
reality--of this we may be sure--no such uniformity existed; the
main outlines of pan-Hellenism were doubtless there, but only the
genius of the poet can have combined and fused them into a purely
imaginary whole. Provincial differences in themselves interested him
not at all. So, too, in the special question that we are
considering, if we find him speaking of a single kingdom of the
underworld, the resort of all departed spirits ruled over by a
single pair of divinities and removed as far from the world of men
and their cities as the Olympian dwelling of the Blessed Ones is in
the opposite direction, who shall say how far he represents naive
popular belief in such matters? On this side Olympus, the meeting
place of all the gods that rule in the daylight;[56\1] on that the
realm of Hades that holds in its grasp the unseen spirits that have
left this life behind--the parallel is too apparent to be due to
anything but the same simplifying and co-ordinating spirit in the
one case as in the other.
§ 2
It would, however, be an equally complete misunderstanding of the
relation in which Homer stood to the popular beliefs of his time if
we imagined that relation to be one of opposition, or even supposed
him to have taken up an attitude resembling that of Pindar or the
Attic Tragedians towards the conventional opinions of their time.
These later poets often enough allow us to see quite clearly the
intentional departure from normal opinion represented by their more
advanced conceptions. Homer, on the contrary, is as free from
controversy as he is from dogma. He does not offer his pictures of
God, the world and fate as anything peculiar to himself; and it is
natural, therefore, to suppose that his public recognized them as
substantially the same as their own. The poet has not taken over the
whole body of popular belief, but what he does say must have
belonged to popular belief. The selection and combination of this
material into a consistent whole was the poet's real work. If the
Homeric creed had not been so constructed in essentials that it
corresponded to the beliefs of the time, or, at least, could be made
to correspond, then it is impossible to account (even allowing for
the poetic tradition of a school) for the uniformity that marks the
work of the many poets that had a hand in the composition of the two
poems. In this narrow sense it can be truly said that Homer's poems
represent the popular belief of their time; not, indeed, the belief
of all Greece, but only of the _Ionian_ {27} cities of the coasts
and islands of Asia Minor in which the poet and his songs were at
home. In a similarly restricted sense may the pictures of outward
life and manners that we find in the Iliad and the Odyssey be taken
as a reflection of the contemporary life of the Greeks with
particular reference to that of the Ionians. This life must have
differed in many respects from that of the "Mycenæan civilization",
and there can be little doubt that the reasons for this difference
are to be sought in the long-continued disturbances which marked the
centuries that divide Homer from the age of Mycenæ, more especially
in the Greek migrations, both in what they destroyed and what they
created. The violent invasion of northern Greek peoples into the
central mainland and the Peloponnese, the destruction of ancient
empires and their civilization, the foundation of new Dorian states
held by right of conquest, the great migrations to the Asiatic
coasts, and the institution of a new life on foreign soil--all these
violent modifications of the old course of existence must have dealt
a severe blow at the whole fabric of that civilization and culture.
In the same way we find that the cult of Souls and the conception of
the fate of departed spirits which governed this cult did not remain
in Ionia (the beliefs of which country are reflected in Homer) what
it had been at the height of the Mycenæan period. To this change, as
to the others which accompanied it, we may well suppose that the
struggles and wanderings of the intermediate period contributed a
good deal. Homer's clear-sighted vision that transcends the limits
of city and even of racial gods, faiths, and worships, would hardly
be explicable without the freedom of movement beyond the boundaries
of country, the common life shared with companions of other races,
the widened knowledge of all the conditions of foreign life, such as
must have resulted from the dislocations and migrations of whole
peoples. It is true that the Ionians of Asia Minor did, as we can
prove, take a good many of their religious observances with them to
their new homes. The migrations, however, did not preserve the
connexion between the old homes and the new country with anything
like the closeness that marked the later colonization; and when the
colonists left the familiar soil behind, the local cults attached to
the soil must often have had to be abandoned, too. Now the worship
of ancestors, connected as it was with the actual graves of those
ancestors, was essentially a _local_ cult. Remembrance of the great
ones of the past might survive transplantation, but not their
religious worship, which could only be offered at the one spot {28}
where their bodies lay buried and which had now been left behind in
an enemy's country. The deeds of ancestors lived on in song, but
they themselves began to be relegated to the domain of poetry and
imagination. Imagination might adorn the story of their earthly
life, but a world that was no longer reminded of their power by the
regularly repeated performance of ceremonial, ceased to pay honour
to their disembodied souls. Thus the most highly developed form of
the cult of Souls--ancestor worship--died out, and the later version
of the same thing, the cult of those of the tribe that had died in
the new land and been buried there, was prevented from attaining a
similar force and development by the newly-introduced practice of
burning the bodies of the dead. It may well be that the _origin_ of
this new form of funeral rite lay, as has been suggested, in the
wish to dismiss the soul of the dead man as quickly and completely
as possible from the realm of the living; but it is beyond doubt
that the _result_ of this practice was to cut at the root of the
belief in the near presence of the departed and the duty of
performing the religious observances that were their right; so that
such things being deprived of their support, fell into decay and
disappeared.
§ 3
We can thus see at least dimly how it was that the Ionian people of
the Homeric age were led by the events of their own history and the
alteration in funeral customs into holding that view of the soul
which a study of their own poets has persuaded us was theirs. This
view can hardly have retained more than a few stray vestiges of the
ancient cult of the dead. Still, we should only be in a position to
say what were the real reasons for this alteration in belief and
custom if we knew and understood more about the _intellectual_
changes that led to the gradual appearance of the Homeric view of
the world; a view which included within its range a set of beliefs
about the soul. Here it is best to confess our ignorance. We have
before us the results only of those changes. From them, however, we
can at least perceive that the religious consciousness of the
Greeks, among whom Homer sang, had developed in a direction which
did not allow much scope to the belief in ghosts and spirits of the
dead. The Homeric Greeks had the deepest consciousness of man's
finite nature, of his dependence upon forces that lay without him.
To remind himself of this and be content with his lot was his proper
form of piety. Over him the gods hold sway, wielding a supernatural
power--{29}not infrequently a misguided and capricious power--but a
conception of a general world-order is beginning to make its way; of
a plan underlying the cross-purposes of individual and common life,
working itself out in accordance with measured and appointed lot
(~moi=ra~). The arbitrary power of individual _daimones_ is thus
limited, and it is limited further by the will of the highest of the
gods. The belief is growing that the world is, in fact, a cosmos, a
perfect organization such as men try to establish in their earthly
states. In the face of such conceptions it would be increasingly
difficult to believe in the vagaries of a supernatural ghostly order
which, in direct opposition to the real heavenly order, is always
distinguished by the fact that it stands outside any all-embracing
dispensation, and allows full play to the caprice and malice of
individual unseen powers. The irrational and the unaccountable is
the natural element of the belief in ghosts and spirits; this is the
source of the peculiar disquiet inspired by this province of belief
or superstition. It owes most of its effect to the instability of
its fibres. The Homeric world, on the contrary, lives by reason; its
gods are fully intelligible to Greek minds and their forms and
behaviour are clearly and easily comprehensible to Greek
imagination. And the more distinctly were the gods represented, the
more did the spirit-phantoms fade away into empty shadows. There was
no one who might have been interested in the preservation and
extension of the superstitious side of religion; there was in
particular no priesthood with a monopoly of instruction or an
exclusive knowledge of the details of ritual and the methods of
controlling the behaviour of spirits. If anyone did possess any
monopoly of teaching, it was, in this age when all the highest
faculties of the spirit found their expression in poetry, the poet
and the singer. They, however, showed a completely "secular" outlook
even in religious matters. Indeed, these very clear-headed men,
belonging to the same stock which in a later age "invented" (if one
may be allowed to put it so science and philosophy, were already
displaying a mental attitude that distantly threatened the whole
system of that plastic representation of things spiritual which the
older antiquity had laboriously constructed.
The earliest view held by primitive man about the activities of
willing, feeling, or thinking, regards them simply as the
manifestations of something which lives and wills inside the visible
man. This something is regarded as embodied in one or other of the
organs of the human body or as concealed {30} therein. Accordingly
the Homeric poems give the name of the "midriff" (~phrê/n,
phre/nes~) to most of the phenomena of will or feeling and even to
those of the intellect. The "heart" (~ê=tor, kê=r~) is also the name
of a variety of feelings that were regarded as located in the heart
and even identified with it. But this mode of expression had already
for Homer become mere formula; such expressions are not always to be
taken literally; the words of the poet often show that as a matter
of fact he thought of these functions and emotions as incorporeal,
though they were still named after parts of the body.[57\1] And so
we often find mentioned side by side with the "midriff" and in the
closest conjunction with it, the ~thumo/s~, a name which is not
taken from any bodily organ and shows already that it is thought of
as an immaterial function. In the same way many other words of this
kind (~no/os-noei=n-no/êma, boulê/, me/nos, mê=tis~) are used to
describe faculties and activities of the will, sense, or thought,
and show that these activities are thought of as independent,
free-working, and incorporeal. A single thread still attaches the
poet to the modes of conception and expression of the older world,
but he himself has penetrated adventurously far into the realm of
pure spirit. With a less cultured people the identification of the
special functions of the will and the intellect only leads to the
materialization of these into the notion of special physical
entities, and consequently to the association of still other
"souls", in the shape of "Conscience", it may be, or "Will", in
addition to that other shadowy "double" of mankind, the "second
self".[58\1] The tendency of the Homeric singers was already setting
in just the opposite direction--the mythology of the "inner man" was
breaking down altogether. They had only to take a few steps further
in the same direction to find that they could dispense with the
_psyche_ as well. The belief in the existence of the psyche was the
oldest and most primitive hypothesis adopted by mankind to explain
the phenomena of dreams, swoons, and ecstatic visions; these
mysterious states were accounted for by the intervention of a
special material personality. Now, Homer has little interest in
premonitions and ecstatic states, and no inclination in that
direction whatever. He cannot, therefore, have been very much
concerned with the evidence for the existence of a psyche in living
men. The final proof of the idea that the psyche must have been
dwelling in man is the fact that it is separated from him in death.
A man dies when he breathes out his last breath. This breath,
something like a breath of air, and not a "nothing", any more than
the wind its relative, {31} but a body with a definite form (though
it may not be visible to waking eyes)--this is the psyche, whose
shape, the image of the man himself, is well known from
dream-vision. One, however, who has become accustomed to the idea of
bodiless powers working inside man will, on this last occasion when
the powers within man show themselves, be likely to suppose that
what brings about the death of a man is not a physical thing that
goes out of him, but a power--a quality--which ceases to act;
nothing else, in fact, than his "life". And he would not, of course,
think of ascribing an independent continuous existence after the
disruption of the body to a mere abstract idea like "life". Homer,
however, never got quite as far as this; for the most part the
psyche is for him and always remains a real "thing"--the man's
second self. But that he had already begun to tread the slippery
path in the course of which the psyche is transformed into an
abstract "concept of life", is shown by the fact that he several
times quite unmistakably uses the word "psyche" when we should say
"life".[59\1] It is essentially the same mode of thought that leads
him to say "midriff" (~phre/nes~) when he no longer means the
physical diaphragm, but the abstract concept of will or intellect.
To say "psyche" instead of "life" is not the same thing as saying
"life" instead of "psyche" (and Homer never did the latter); but it
is clear that for him in the process of dematerializing such
concepts, even the psyche, a figure once so full of significance, is
beginning to fade and vanish away.
The separation from the land of their forefathers, and habituation
to the use of cremation, the new direction taken by religious
thought, the tendency to turn the once material forces of man's
inner life into attractions--all these things contributed to weaken
the belief in a powerful and significant life of the disembodied
soul and its connexion with the affairs of this world. And at the
same time it caused the decline of the cult of the Souls. So much, I
think, we may safely assert. The deepest and most fundamental
reasons for this decline in both belief and cult may elude our
search, just as it is impossible for us to be sure how far in detail
the Homeric poems reflect the beliefs of the people who first
listened to them, and where the free invention of the poet begins.
But the combination of the various elements of belief into a whole
which, though far from being a dogmatically closed system, may yet
not unfairly be called the Homeric Theology--this, we may say, is
most probably the work of the poet. The poet has a free hand in the
picture he gives of the gods and never comes into conflict with any
popular doctrine because Greek {32} religion then, as always,
consisted essentially in the right honouring of the gods of the
country and not in any particular set of dogmas. There could hardly
be any general conception of godhead and divinity with which the
poet might come into conflict. That the popular mind absorbed
thoroughly that picture of the world of gods which the Homeric poems
had given, is shown by the whole future development of Greek culture
and religion. If divergent conceptions did, in fact, also maintain
themselves, they derived their strength not so much from a different
religious theory, as from the postulates of a different religious
_cult_ that had not been influenced by any poet's imagination. They
might also more particularly have had the effect of causing an
incidental obscurity within the epic itself, in the poet's vision of
the Unseen World and its life.
III
A test case of the thorough-going uniformity and consistency of the
Homeric conception of the nature and circumstances of the souls of
the departed is provided for us, within the limits of the poems
themselves, by the story of Odysseus' _Journey to Hades_--a test
they are hardly likely to survive, it may well be thought. How is
the poet in describing a living hero's dealings with the inhabitants
of the shadow-world, going to preserve the immaterial, dreamlike
character of the Homeric "Souls"? How keep up the picture of the
soul as something that holds itself resolutely aloof and seems to
avoid all active intercourse with other folk? It is hard to see what
could tempt the poet to try and penetrate with the torch of
imagination into this underworld of ineffectual shadows. The matter
becomes somewhat more intelligible, however, as soon as it is
realized in what manner the narrative arose; how through continual
additions from later hands it gradually assumed a form quite unlike
itself.[60\1]
§ 1
It may be taken as one of the few certain results of the critical
analysis of the Homeric poems that the narrative of the Descent of
Odysseus to the Underworld did not form part of the original plan of
the Odyssey. Kirke bids Odysseus undertake the journey to Hades in
order that he may see Teiresias there and be told of "the way and
the means of his return, and how he may reach his home again over
the fish-teeming deep" (_Od._ x, 530 f.). Teiresias, however, on
being {33} discovered in the realm of shadows, fulfils this
requirement only very partially and superficially. Whereupon, Kirke
herself gives to the returned Odysseus a much fuller account, and as
regards the one point already mentioned by Teiresias, a much more
precise account, of the perils that lie before him on his homeward
journey.[61\1] The journey to the land of the dead was thus
unnecessary, and there can be no doubt that originally it had no
place in the poem. It is plain, however, that the composer of this
adventure only used the (superfluous) inquiry addressed to Teiresias
as a pretext which afforded a more or less plausible motive for the
introduction of this narrative into the body of the poem. The real
object of the poet, the true motive of the story, must then be
sought elsewhere than in the prophecy of Teiresias, which turns out
to be so brief and unhelpful. It would be natural to suppose that
the aim of the poet was to give the eye of imagination a glimpse
into the marvels and terrors of that dark realm into which all men
must go. Such an intention would be very intelligible in the case of
a medieval or a Greek poet of later times; and there were afterwards
plenty of Greek poems which described a Descent to Hades. But it
would be hard to account for it in a poet of the Homeric school; for
such a poet the realm of the dead and its inhabitants could hardly
supply a subject for a narrative. And, in fact, the inventor of
Odysseus' visit to the dead had quite a different object in view. He
was anything but a Greek Dante. It is possible to see the purpose
which guided him as soon as his poem is stripped of the manifold
additions with which later times invested it. The original kernel
which thus remains is then seen to be nothing but a series of
conversations between Odysseus and the souls of those of the dead
with whom he had stood in close personal relationship. Besides
Teiresias he speaks with his old ship-companion Elpenor, who had
just died, with his mother Antikleia, with Agamemnon and Achilles;
and he tries in vain to effect a reconciliation with the implacable
Aias. These conversations in Hades are, for the general furtherance
of the story of Odysseus' wanderings and return, quite superfluous,
and they serve in a very minor degree and only incidentally to give
information about the conditions and character of the inscrutable
world beyond the grave. The questions and answers there given are
confined entirely to the affairs of the upper world. They bring
Odysseus, who has now been wandering so long alone and far from the
world of actual humanity, into ideal association with the
substantial world of flesh and blood to which his thoughts {34}
stretch out, and in which he himself had once been an actor and is
soon to play an important part again.[62\1] His mother informs him
of the distracted state of Ithaca, Agamemnon of the treacherous deed
of Aigisthos carried out with the help of Klytaimnestra. Odysseus
himself is able to console Achilles with an account of the heroic
deeds of his son, who is still alive in the daylight; with Aias,
resentful even in Hades, he cannot come to terms. Thus the theme of
the second part of the Odyssey begins to appear; even to the shadows
below there reaches an echo of the great deeds of the Trojan war and
of the adventures of the Return from Troy, which occupied the minds
of all the singers of the time. The introduction of these stories by
means of conversations with the persons who took part in them is the
essential purpose of the poet. The impelling instinct to expand in
all directions the circle of legend in whose centre stood the
adventure of the Iliad, and link it up with other circles of heroic
legend, was fully satisfied by later poets in the separate poems of
the Epic Cycle. At the time when the Odyssey was composed these
other epic narratives were in the full tide of their youthful
exuberance. The streams had not yet found a convenient bed in which
to run, and they added their individual contributions (for they all
related events which preceded it) to the elaborate narration of the
return of the last Hero who still wandered vainly and alone. The
main object of the story of Telemachos' journey to meet Nestor and
Menelaos (in the third and fourth books of the Odyssey) is
manifestly to bring the son into relation with the father's
companions in war, and so to provide occasion for further narratives
in which a more detailed picture of some of the events between the
Iliad and the Odyssey might be given. Demodokos, the Phæacian bard,
is made to recount (in abbreviated form) two adventures that had
occurred to the great chieftain. Even when such stories did not
immediately add to the picture of Odysseus' deeds or character, they
served to point to the great background from which the adventures of
the much-enduring wanderer, now completely isolated, should stand
out; and to set these in the ideal framework which could alone give
them their full significance. This natural creative instinct of
legendary poetry also inspired the poet of the "Journey to Hades".
He, too, saw the adventures of Odysseus not in isolation but in
lively and vital connexion with all the other adventures that took
their origin from Troy. He conceived the idea of bringing once more,
for the last time, the chieftain famed in council and war, into
communication with the mightiest king and the noblest {35} hero of
that famous expedition; and to do that he had to take him to the
realm of the shadows which had long contained them. Nor could he
well avoid the tone of pathos which is natural to this interview on
the borders of the realm of nothingness to which all the desire and
the strength of life must eventually come. The questioning of
Teiresias is merely, as has been said, the poet's pretext for
confronting Odysseus with his mother and his former companions, and
this meeting was his prime motive. Probably this particular device
was suggested by the recollection of the story which Menelaos tells
of his meeting with Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea (_Od._ iv, 351
ff.),[63\1] where the inquiry from the seer as to the means of
reaching home again is also a mere pretext for the narration of
Return adventures--those of Aias, Agamemnon, and Odysseus.
§ 2
It is certain that the intention of this poet cannot possibly have
been simply the description of the underworld for its own sake. Even
the scenery of these mysterious incidents which might well have
attracted his fancy, is only given in brief allusions. The ship
sails over Okeanos to the people of the Kimmerians[64\1] that never
see the sun, and reaches at last the "barren coast" and the "Grove
of Persephone", with its black poplars and weeping willows. Odysseus
with two companions goes on ahead to the entrance of Erebos, where
Pyriphlegethon and Kokytos, a branch of the Styx, flow into Acheron.
There he digs his sacrificial trench to which the souls flock upward
out of Erebos over the asphodel-meadows. It is the same underworld
in the bowels of the earth that is presupposed in the Iliad, too, as
the dwelling-place of the dead, only more accurately described and
more fully realized.[65\1] The details of the picture are so lightly
sketched in that one might well suppose that they, too, had been
taken from some older mythical material. At any rate, he borrowed
the "Styx", so well known in the Iliad; and it may be supposed that
the same applies to the other rivers as well, whose names are
clearly derived from words meaning burning (of dead bodies?),[66\1]
lamentation, and sorrow.[67\1] The poet himself, interested only in
the representation of character, is not at all disposed to dwell
upon the merely fanciful, and confines himself to a few brief
allusions. Nor does he give any very lengthy account of the dwellers
in Erebos, and what he does say of them keeps well within the limits
of the usual Homeric belief. The Souls resemble shadow- or
dream-pictures, and {36} are impalpable to the human touch.[68\1]
They are without consciousness when they appear. Elpenor alone,
whose body still lies unburnt, has for that very reason retained his
senses and even shows a form of heightened consciousness that
approaches prophecy; resembling in this respect Patroklos and Hektor
at the moment when the psyche is parted from the body.[69\1] This,
however, is to leave him as soon as his corpse is destroyed.
Teiresias alone, the prophet famed above all others in Theban
legend, has preserved his consciousness and prophetic vision even in
the Shadow-world through the good-will of Persephone; but this is an
exception which only establishes the rule. What Antikleia tells her
son of the powerlessness and immateriality of the soul after the
burning of the body[70\1] sounds almost like an official
confirmation of the orthodox Homeric view. Everything, in fact, in
this poet's description enforces the truth of this belief, and
though the living are, indeed, untroubled by the feeble souls
banished to outer darkness, yet out of Erebos itself the piteous
knell of this decree reaches us in the lament of Achilles as he
refuses his friend's attempt at comfort--everyone knows the
unforgettable words.
§ 3
And yet the poet ventures to go beyond Homer in one important point.
What he hints rather than actually says of the condition of things
in Hades conflicts in no single point with the conventional Homeric
view; but it is an innovation to suggest that this condition of
things can even for the briefest moment be interrupted. The blood
drunk by the souls gives them back for a moment their consciousness;
their remembrance of the upper world returns to them. Their senses
must then all the while have been not dead but sleeping. There can
be no doubt that the poet for whom this supposition is indispensable
to his story did not thereby intend to formulate an entirely new
doctrine. But in order to add to his poetic effect, he was led to
include in his story some touches which, meaningless within the
circle of his own beliefs, pointed elsewhere, and, indeed, backward,
to older, quite differently moulded beliefs, and to the usages
founded upon them. He makes Odysseus, following the advice of Kirke,
dig a grave at the entrance of Hades in which to pour out a solemn
drink-offering to "all the dead", consisting first of all in a
mixture of milk and honey, then wine and water, over which white
meal is finely sprinkled. Next he slays a ram and a black ewe,
bending their heads downwards into the grave.[71\1] {37} Then the
bodies of the animals are burnt, and round the blood collect all the
souls, who flutter about it, kept at a distance by Odysseus'
sword[72\1] till Teiresias has first drunk. Here the drink-offerings
constitute undoubtedly a sacrificial offering devoted to the dead
and poured out for their satisfaction. The poet indeed does not
think of the slaughtered animals as a sacrifice; the tasting of the
blood is simply intended to restore to the souls their
consciousness; in the case of Teiresias, who retains his senses, the
gift of prophetic clairvoyance. But this, we can see clearly, is a
fiction of the poet's: what he here describes is in every detail a
sacrifice to the dead, such as we so often find described as such in
accounts from later times. The scent of the blood calls up the
spirits; their satiation with blood (~haimakouri/a~) is the
essential purpose of such offerings; and these are what the poet's
imagination dimly recalls as models. Nothing in this picture has
been invented. Neither, on the other hand, it is quite clear, has he
altered his sacrificial ceremony to make it fit in with _novel_
ideas that were beginning to gain ground; ideas that ascribed a more
vital existence to the souls of the dead. For here, too, just as in
the case of the offerings to the dead described in the funeral of
Patroklos, the poet's manner of conceiving the life of the dead is
not such as could give support to new and more vigorous cult
ceremonies. His conception tends rather to contradict the ceremonies
that he describes. In fact, what we have here, too, is a
"fossilized" and no longer intelligible vestige of a practice that
was once rooted in belief--a relic deprived of its original meaning
and adapted by the poet to the special purposes of his narrative.
The sacrificial ritual used to attract the souls on this occasion
strikingly resembles the ritual which was used in later times to
conjure up the souls of the dead at those places which were supposed
to give entrance to the ghostly world below the earth. It is also
not impossible that, even in the time of the poet of the "Journey to
Hades", in some remote corners of Greek lands such calling-up of the
dead was still practised as a relic of former belief. But, supposing
that the poet had some information of such local cults of the dead,
and modelled his story on them,[73\1] that only makes it the more
remarkable that he effaces all trace of the original meaning of his
ritual, and in adherence to the strict Homeric doctrine on the
point, banishes all thought that the souls may possibly continue in
the neighbourhood of the living and can thence be conjured up into
the light of day.[74\1] He knows only of one kingdom of the Dead far
off in the dim West, beyond the bounds of sea {38} and ocean, where
the legendary hero of romance can, indeed, reach its gateway, but
where alone he can have communication with the souls of the dead.
The House of Hades never allows its inhabitants to pass out.
And yet all this is hopelessly contradicted by the votive offerings
that the poet, by what can only be called an oversight, makes
Odysseus promise to all the dead, and particularly to Teiresias,
upon his return home (_Od._ x, 521-6; xi, 29-33). Of what use would
it be to the dead to receive the offering of a "barren cow",[75\1] of
"treasures" burnt upon the funeral pyre; or how could Teiresias
enjoy the slaughtering of a black sheep far away in Ithaca--when
they are all confined to Erebos and could not taste the offerings
made to them? This is the most remarkable and important of all
vestiges of an ancient worship of the dead. It proves indubitably
that in pre-Homeric times the belief prevailed that even after the
funeral of the body the soul is not eternally banished to the
inaccessible land of shadows, but is able to approach the sacrificer
and to enjoy the sacrifices offered to it, just as much as the gods
can. A single obscure allusion in the Iliad[76\1] suggests what is
here much more clearly and almost naïvely revealed--namely that even
at the time when the Homeric view of the nothingness of the souls
for ever parted from their bodies reigned supreme, the custom of
making offerings to the dead after the funeral was over (though in
exceptional circumstances only, and not as a regularly recurring
performance had not been entirely forgotten.
§ 4
The contradictions into which he is betrayed by the introduction of
such intercourse between the living and the dead proves that the
undertaking was rather venturesome for a Homeric poet of strictly
orthodox views. Still, in the picture of Odysseus' meeting with his
mother and former companions, which was his main object, the poet
hardly strayed at all from the normal Homeric path. This, however,
was, as it happened, the very point in which later generations of
poetically inclined readers or hearers found his narrative wanting.
He himself carefully linked up every detail with his living hero,
the central interest of his story, and only made him speak with the
souls of such as had some real and close connexion with him. A
review of the motley inhabitants of the underworld in their
multitude hardly interested him at all. It was the very thing which
seemed indispensable to later readers. They made additions to his
story and introduced the multitudes of the dead of all ages; the
warriors with {39} wounds still visible and in bloodstained
armour;[77\1] or else, more in the manner of a Hesiodic catalogue
for the assistance of the memory than making them live in Homeric
fashion for the imagination, they pictured a whole host of mothers,
the illustrious ancestors of great families, passing before
Odysseus, though they had no particular claim upon his sympathy;
nor, indeed, is any serious attempt made to bring them into
relationship with him.[78\1] This seemed to improve the picture of
the general multitude of the dead, represented in the persons of
selected individuals. Next, the condition of things in the world
below must at least be illustrated by a few examples. Odysseus casts
a glance into the inner recesses of the underworld--which was hardly
possible for him, considering that he stood at its outermost
gateway--and sees there the heroic figures of those who, like true
"images" (~ei/dôla~) of the living, still continue the activities of
their former lives. There he sees Minos giving judgment among the
dead, Orion hunting, Herakles still with the bow in his hand, and
the arrow fitted to the string, "like one ever about to shoot." This
is certainly not Herakles, the "Hero-God", as he was known to later
ages. The poet knows nothing as yet of the elevation of the son of
Zeus above the lot of all mortals--any more than the earliest poet
of the "Journey" knew of the translation of Achilles out of Hades.
The disregard of such things was naturally regarded by later readers
as a negligence on the part of the poet. And, in fact, they boldly
inserted three verses here which inform us that he "himself", the
real Herakles, dwells among the gods--what Odysseus saw in Hades was
only his counterfeit. Whoever wrote this was practising a little
original theology on his own account. Such a contrast between a
fully animated "self" possessing the original man's body and soul
still united, and a counterfeit presentment of himself (which cannot
be his psyche relegated to Hades, is quite strange both to Homer and
to Greek thought of later times.[79\1] It is, in fact, an example of
the earliest "harmonizer's" solution of a difficulty. The poet does,
indeed, attempt to connect Herakles with Odysseus by making the two
enter into conversation, in imitation of the conversations with
Agamemnon and Achilles. But it is soon evident that these two have
really nothing to say to each other; Odysseus, in fact, is silent.
There was no real relationship between them, at most an analogy;
Herakles, too, having once descended alive into Hades. This analogy
alone, in fact, appears to have suggested the introduction of
Herakles in this place.[80\1] {40}
There now remains (inserted after Minos and Orion and before
Herakles and probably composed by the same hand that was responsible
for them) the incident of the three "penitents" undergoing
punishment; a passage that no reader can possibly forget. First
Tityos, whose giant frame is preyed upon by two vultures, is seen,
then Tantalos, who in the middle of a lake is parched with thirst
and cannot reach up to the fruit-laden branches over his head, and
last Sisyphos, who is bound to roll up-hill the stone that ever
rolls back again. The limits of the Homeric conception (with which
the pictures of Minos, Orion, and Herakles might still perhaps be
reconciled) are in these pictures definitely overstepped. The souls
of these three unfortunates are credited with complete and
continuous consciousness. Without this, their punishment would not
have been felt and would not have been inflicted. And, observing the
extraordinarily matter-of-fact and cursory description, which takes
the reasons of the punishment for granted except in the case of
Tityos, we cannot help feeling that these examples of punishment
after death were not invented for the first time by the composer of
these lines. They cannot have been offered to the astonished ears of
their hearers as a daring novelty, but were rather recalled briefly
to those hearers' recollection. Probably these three are selected as
examples out of a much larger collection of such pictures. Can it be
that still older poets (who may still, however, have been more
recent than the poet of the earliest parts of the "Journey") had
already dared to desert the Homeric view of the soul?
However that may be, we may be sure that the punishment of the three
"penitents" was not intended to contradict flatly the Homeric
conception of the unconsciousness and nothingness of the shades.
They could not in that case have accommodated themselves so well to
a poem that is founded upon such conceptions. They do not disprove
the rule because they are, and are only intended to be, _exceptions_
to that rule. This, however, would be impossible if it were
justifiable to interpret the poet's fiction as representing, in the
person of these three unfortunates, three types of special sins and
classes of sinners; as, for example, unbridled Lust (Tityos),
insatiable Gluttony (Tantalos), and Pride of the Intellect
(Sisyphos).[81\1] They would in that case be particular examples of
the retribution which one must think of as being extended to all the
innumerable hosts of shadows who have been guilty of the same sins.
But nothing in the description itself warrants such a theological
interpretation; indeed, we have no reason {41} or excuse for
attributing to this particular poet such a desire to prove the
existence of a compensatory justice in an after life. It is quite
strange to Homer, and so far as it ever became known to later Greek
theology, it was only introduced very late, through the influence of
a speculative mysticism. No, the almighty power of the gods is able
in special cases, so this picture assures us, to preserve for
individual souls their consciousness; in the case of Teiresias as a
reward, in the case of these three objects of the gods' hatred, in
order that they may be capable of feeling their punishment. The real
fault for which they are punished can be guessed fairly certainly
from what the poet tells us about Tityos--it is in each case a
grievous offence committed by them against the gods. The crime of
Tantalos we can make out from what we know of him through other
sources. It is less easy to discover what was the exact misdeed for
which the crafty Sisyphos is punished.[82\1] In any case, it is
clear that retribution has overtaken all three of them for sins
against the gods themselves--sins which human beings of later times
could not possibly commit. And for this reason alone, neither their
deeds nor their punishment can have anything typical or
representative about them; they are sheer exceptions, and that is
why the poet found them interesting.
The episode of Odysseus' journey to Hades (even in its latest
portions) suggests no acquaintance whatever with any general class
of sinners who receive their punishment in that place. If, indeed,
it had alluded to the punishment in the after-world of _perjurers_,
orthodox Homeric doctrine would not in that case have been violated.
Twice over in the Iliad, on solemn occasions of oath-taking, besides
the gods of the upper world, the Erinyes also are called upon as
witnesses of the oath; for they punish under the earth those who
break their oath.[83\1] Not without reason have these passages been
held to show "that the Homeric conception of the phantasmal
half-life of the souls under the earth, where they are without
feeling or consciousness, was not a general folk-belief."[84\1] We
must add, however, that the belief held in Homeric times of the
punishment of oath-breakers in the realm of shadows cannot as yet
have been very vital, for it was quite unable to prevent the success
of the totally incompatible belief in the unconscious nothingness of
disembodied spirits. A solemn oath-formula (so much that is
primitive persisting, even after it has become dead letter, in
formula) preserved a reference to that ancient belief, which had
become strange to Homeric ears--a vestige, in fact, of a bygone
point of view. It may be {42} that in the dim past, when men still
vividly and literally believed in the reality of a punishment in
after life for perjury, all the souls in Hades were credited with a
conscious existence; but there never was a time when men generally
believed that earthly sins (including perjury as only one among
many) were punished in Hades. Oath-breaking was not punished as a
specially outrageous moral failing--it may well be doubted whether
the Greeks ever considered or felt it to be such. The perjurer,
rather than any other particular sinner, was the special victim of
the dread goddesses, for the simple reason that the perjurer in his
desire to emphasize in the most awful manner his aversion to
falsehood, has invoked against himself, if he fails to keep his
oath, the most terrible fate of all--to suffer torment in the realm
of Hades whence is no escape.[85\1] To the Infernal Spirits of the
Underworld, to whom he had condemned himself, he falls a victim if
he breaks his word. Belief in the supernatural power of such
imprecations,[86\1] and not any special moral importance attached to
truth-telling--an idea quite strange to the older Antiquity--gave
to the oath its peculiar terrors.
§ 5
A final example of the tenacity with which custom may outlive the
belief on which it is founded is afforded by the story told of
Odysseus, that in fleeing from the Kikonian land, he did not leave
it until he had called thrice upon those of his companions who had
fallen in the battle with the Kikones (_Od._ ix, 65-6). References
to similar callings upon the dead in later literature make the
meaning of such behaviour clear. The souls of the dead who have
fallen in foreign lands must be "called";[87\1] they will then, if
this is properly done, follow the caller to their distant home,
where an "empty grave" awaits them.[88\1] This duty is regularly
performed in Homer for the benefit of those whose bodies it is
impossible to recover and bury in the proper way. But a summons of
the dead and the erection of such empty receptacles--intended for
whom if not for the souls who must then be accessible to the
devotion of their relations?--was natural enough for those who
believed in the possibility of the soul's sojourn in the
neighbourhood of its living friends; it was not admissible for
supporters of the Homeric belief. Here we have once more a
remarkable vestige of an ancient belief, surviving in a custom that
has not been entirely given up even in altered times. Here, too, the
belief which had given rise to the custom, was extinct. {43} If we
ask the Homeric poet for what purpose a mound was heaped up over the
grave of the dead and a gravestone set upon it, he will answer us:
in order that his fame may remain imperishable among men, and that
future generations may not be ignorant of his story.[89\1] That
sounds truly Homeric. When a man dies his soul departs into a region
of twilit dream-life; his body, the visible man, perishes. Only his
glorious name, in fact, lives on. His praises speak to after ages
from the monument to his honour on his grave-mound--and in the song
of the bard. A _poet_ would naturally be inclined to think such
things.
NOTES TO CHAPTER I
I
[1\1: E. Kammer, _Einheit d. Odyssee_, 510 ff.]
[2\1: E.g. _Il._ ~A~ 3, ~polla\s d' iphthi/mous _psucha\s_
(kephala/s~ Apol. Rhod., as in ~L~ 55: mistakenly) ~A/ïdi proï/apsen
hêrô/ôn, _autou\s_ de\ helô/ria teu=che ku/nessin.~ ~Ps~ 105,
~pannuchi/ê ga\r moi Patroklê=os deiloi=o _psuchê\_ ephestê/kei . .
. e/ïkto de\ the/skelon _autô=|_~ (cf. 66).]
[3\1: E.g. ~L~ 262, ~e/nth' Antê/noros hui=es hup' Atrei/dê|
basilê=i po/tmon anaplê/santes e/dun do/mon A/ïdos ei/sô~. The
~_psuchê/_~ of Elpenor and afterwards that of Teiresias, of his
mother, of Agamemnon, etc., is addressed by Odysseus in the Nekyia
of the Od. simply as: ~Elpê=nor, Teiresi/ê, mê=ter emê/~, etc. And
cf. such expressions as: ~Ps~ 244, ~eis ho/ ken _auto\s_ egô\ A/ïdi
keu/thômai~, or ~O~ 251, ~kai\ dê\ e/gôg' epha/mên, ne/kuas kai\
dô=m' Ai/dao ê/mati tô=|d' hi/xesthai . . .~ or ~X~ 456 f., etc.]
[4\1: The first view is Nägelsbach's, the second that of
Grotemeyer.]
[5\1: And of civilized peoples, too, in antiquity. Just such a
second self, an ~ei/dôlon~ duplicating the visible self of man,
were, in their original significance, the _genius_ of the Romans,
the _Fravashi_ of the Persians, the _Ka_ of the Egyptians.]
[6\1: ~hupoti/thetai~ (sc. Homer) ~ta\s psucha\s toi=s eidô/lois
toi=s en toi=s _kato/ptrois_ phainome/nois homoi/as kai\ toi=s dia\
tô=n _huda/tôn_ sunistame/nois, ha\ katha/pax hêmi=n exei/kastai
kai\ ta\s kinê/seis mimei=tai steremniô/dê de\ hupo/stasin oudemi/an
e/chei eis anti/lêpsin kai\ haphê/n~, Apollod. ~p. theô=n~ ap.
Stob., _Ecl._ i, p. 420 W.]
[7\1: Cf. Cic., _Div._ i, 63: iacet corpus dormientis ut mortui,
viget autem et vivit animus. Quod multo magis faciet post mortem cum
omnino corpore excesserit. _TD_. i, 29: visis quibusdam saepe
movebantur eisque maxime nocturnis, ut viderentur ei qui vita
excesserant vivere. Here we have precise ancient testimony both for
the subjective and the objective elements in dreaming and for their
importance for the origin of belief about the soul.]
[8\1: ~To\n d' e/lipe psuchê/ . . . au=tis d' ampnu/nthê~, ~E~ 696
f. ~Tê\n de\ kat' ophthalmô=n erebennê\ nu\x eka/lupsen, ê/ripe d'
exopi/sô, apo\ de\ psuchê\n eka/pussen . . . e/pei ou=n a/mpnuto
kai\ es phre/na thumo\s age/rthê~--~Ch~ 466 ff., 475; and ~ô~ 348:
~apopsu/chonta~.]
[9\1: Speaking of _suspirium_ ( = ~leipopsuchi/a~), Sen., _Ep._ liv,
2, says, medici hanc "meditationem mortis" vocant. faciet enim
aliquando spiritus ille quod saepe conatus est.]
[10\1: A remarkable idea seems to be obscurely suggested in an
expression such as that of ~x~ 207, ~all' ê/toi to\n Kê=res e/ban
thana/toio phe/rousai eis Aï/dao do/mous~; cf. ~B~ 302. Usually the
Keres bring death to men: here (like Thanatos himself in later
poetry) they conduct the dead into the realm of Hades. They are
_daimones_ of Hades, originally and primitively themselves souls of
the departed (see below, p. 168), and it is a natural idea to make
such soul-spirits, hovering in the air, carry off the souls of men
just dead to the realm of the souls. In Homer only a stereotyped
phrase preserves the vague memory of such a conception.] {45}
[11\1: Of the dead we read in ~l~ 219, ~ou ga\r e/ti sa/rkas te kai\
oste/a i=nes e/chousi~. Taking the words strictly this might mean
that the dead possess sinews but not the flesh or bones that should
be held together by the sinews. This is how Nauck, in fact,
understood the Homeric words: _Mélanges Grécorom._ iv, 718. But it
is very difficult to picture "shadows" which in this manner possess
sinews but no body of flesh and bones: the corrupt words of _fr._
229, preserved apart from their context, are quite insufficient to
prove that Aesch. derived such an unrealizable impression from the
Homeric words.--That the poet of these lines from the Nek. simply
meant "flesh, bones, and sinews, too, which might have held them
together", is shown quite clearly by what follows: ~alla\ ta\ me/n
te puro\s kratero\n me/nos aithome/noio damna=|, epei/ ke prô=ta
li/pê| leu/k' oste/a thumo/s, psuchê\ d' êü/t' o/neiros apoptame/nê
pepo/têtai~. How, then, could the fire help destroying the sinews
too?]
[12\1: The sacrificial character of the proceedings at the _rogus_
of Patroklos has again been called in question by v. Fritze, _de
libatione veterum Graecorum_, 71 f. (1893). He admits this
interpretation of the pouring of the blood on the pyre, but explains
the other circumstances differently. It would be quite easy to
disprove in this fashion the sacrificial character of every
~holokau/tôma~ for ~chtho/nioi~ whether Heroes or the dead. It is
true that the bodies of sheep and cattle, horses and dogs, thus
completely consumed by fire, are not a "food-offering", but they are
a sacrifice for all that, and belong to the class of expiatory
offerings in which the flesh is not offered for the food of the
daimon but the lives of the victims are sacrificed to him. That
Achilles slays the Trojan prisoners at the rogus ~ktame/noio
cholôthei/s~ (~Ps~ 23) does not destroy the sacrificial character of
this offering intended to appease the wrath (felt also by Achilles)
of the dead man.--The whole procedure gives a picture of primitive
sacrificial ritual in honour of the dead and differs in no
particular from the ritual of sacrifice to the ~theoi\ chtho/nioi~.
This is recognized by Stengel in his _Chthonischer und Todtencult_
(_Festschr. Friedländ._), p. 432, who also marks clearly the
differences between the two religious ceremonies as they were
gradually evolved in the process of time.]
[13\1: It cannot be denied that the libation of wine poured out by
Achilles during the night (to which he expressly summons the psyche
of Patroklos, ~Ps~ 218-22) is _sacrificial_ in character, like all
similar ~choai/~. The wine with which the embers of the funeral pyre
are extinguished may have been intended to serve that purpose alone
and not as a sacrifice. But the jars of honey and oil which Achilles
has placed upon the pyre (~Ps~ 170; cf. ~ô~ 67-8) can hardly be
regarded as anything but sacrificial (cf. Bergk, _Opusc._ ii, 675;
acc. to Stengel, _Jahrb. Philol._, p. 649, 1887, they only serve to
kindle the flames, but the honey, at any rate, seems a strange
material for the purpose. For libations at the _rogus_ or at the
grave honey and oil are regularly used--see Stengel himself, loc.
cit., and _Philol._ xxxix, 378 ff.). Acc. to v. Fritze, _de libat._,
72, the jars of honey and oil were intended not as libations but for
the "bath of the dead"--in the next world, in the Homeric
Hades!--Honey can only have been used for bathing purposes, in
Greece as elsewhere, by those who unintentionally fell into it like
Glaukos.]
[14\1: On Greek hair offerings see Wieseler, _Philol._ ix, 711 ff.,
who rightly regards these offerings as symbolic and as substitutes
for primitive human sacrifice. The same explanation of the offering
of hair is given in the case of other peoples also; cf. Tylor, ii,
401.] {46}
[15\1: Patroklos' request for prompt burial (69 ff.) gives no
sufficient motive, since Achilles has already given orders for the
funeral to take place next day, 49 ff. (cf. 94 f.).]
[16\1: ll. 19; 179. Again, in the night following the erection of
the funeral pyre, when the body is burning, Achilles calls to the
soul of Patroklos ~psuchê\n kiklê/skôn Patroklê=os deiloi=o~ 221.
The person thus called upon is evidently supposed to be still close
at hand. This is not contradicted by the formula ~chai=re . . . kai\
ein Aï/dao do/moisi~ (19, 179), for in l. 19. at least, the words
cannot mean _in Hades_, since the soul is still outside Hades, as it
tells us itself, 71 ff. The words can only mean "about", "before"
the House of Hades (like ~en **potamô=|~ "by the river", etc.). In
the same way ~eis Aï/dao do/mon~ often only means _towards_ the
house of Hades (Ameis on ~k~ 512).]
[17\1: From descriptions in ancient poetry? or had similar
customs--at least, at the funerals of chieftains--survived into the
poet's own time? Especially magnificent, e.g., were the burials of
Spartan kings--and also Cretan kings, it appears, so long as there
were any; cf. Arist. _fr._ 476, p. 1556a, 37 ff.]
[18\1: Funeral games for Amarynkeus, ~Ps~ 630 ff., for Achilles, ~ô~
85 ff. Such games are referred to as being quite the usual custom in
~ô~ 87 ff. Later poetry is full of descriptions of such ~agô=nes
epita/phioi~ of the heroic age.]
[19\1: As Aristarchos noticed: see _Rh. Mus._ 36, 544 f. Rather
different are the (certainly ancient) games and contests for the
hand of a bride (cf. stories of Pelops, Danaos, Ikarios, etc.).]
[20\1: Cf. ~Ps~ 274, ~ei me\n nu=n _epi\_ a/llô| aethleu/oimen
Achaioi/~, i.e. in _honour_ of Patroklos; cf. 646: ~so\n hetai=ron
ae/thloisi _ktere/ïze_~. ~ktereï/zein~ means to give the dead man
his ~kte/rea~, i.e. his former possessions (by burning them). The
games are therefore on exactly the same footing as the burning of
the personal effects of the dead in which the soul of the dead man
was supposed still to take pleasure.]
[21\1: Aug., _CD._ viii, 26: Varro dicit omnes mortuos existimari
manes deos, et probat per ea sacra quae omnibus fere mortuis
exhibentur, ubi et ludos commemorat funebres, tamquam hoc sit
maximum divinitatis indicium, quod non solent ludi nisi numinibus
celebrari.]
[22\1: Quae pietas ei debetur a quo nihil acceperis? aut quid
omnino, cuius nullum meritum sit, ei deberi potest? . . . (dei)
quamobrem colendi sint non intellego nullo nec accepto ab eis nec
sperato bono, Cic., _ND._ i, 116; cf. Pl., _Euthphr._ pass. Homer
speaks in the same way of the ~_amoibê\_ agakleitê=s hekato/mbês~,
~g~ 58-9 (cf. ~amoiba\s tô=n thusiô=n~ from the side of the gods,
Pl. _Smp._, 202 E).]
[23\1: ~tou=to/ nu kai\ ge/ras hoi=on oïzuroi=si brotoi=sin,
kei/rasthai/ te ko/mên bale/ein t' apo\ da/kru pareiô=n~, ~d~ 197
f.; cf. ~ô~ 188 f., 294 f.]
[24\1: ~ou ga\r e/t' au=tis ni/somai ex' Aï/dao epê/n me puro\s
lela/chête~, ~Ps~ 75 f.]
[25\1: ~--io/nti eis Aï/dao chersi\ kat' ophthalmou\s ele/ein su/n
te sto/m' erei=sai~, ~l~ 426; cf. ~L~ 453, ~ô~ 296. To do this is
the duty of the next of kin, mother or wife. The necessity for
closing the sightless eyes and dumb mouth of the dead is
intelligible without reference to any superstitious _arrière
pensée_. Such an idea is, however, dimly discernible in such a
phrase as ~a/chris ho/tou _psuchê/n_ mou mêtro\s che/res ei=lan ap'
o/ssôn~, _Epigr. Gr._, 314, 24. Was there originally some idea of
the "soul" being released by these means?--Seat of the soul in the
~ko/rê~ of the eye: ~psuchai\ d' en ophthalmoi=si tô=n
teleutô/ntôn~, Babr. 95, 35 (see Crusius, _Rh. Mus._ 46, 319).
Augurium non timendi mortem in aegritudine quamdiu oculorum pupillae
imaginem reddant, Plin., _N.H._ 28, 64; cf. Grimm, p. 1181. (If a
person can no longer see his or her ~ei/dôlon~ {47} in a mirror it
is a sign of approaching death, Oldenburg, _Rel. d. Ved._, 526 [p.
449^3 French tr.].)--Among many peoples it is believed that the eyes
of the dead must be closed in order to prevent the dead person
seeing or haunting anyone in the future: Robinsohn, _Psychol. d.
Naturv._, 44; cf. Cic., _Verr._ v, 118 (of the Greeks); Vg., _A._
iv, 684 f.: extremus si quis super halitus errat ore legam. Serv. ad
loc.: muliebriter, tamquam possit animam sororis excipere et in se
transferre (cf. _Epigr. Gr._, 547; _IG. Sic. et It._, 607e, 9-10).
~psuchê/~ making its exit through the mouth: ~I~ 409; cf. "Among the
Seminoles of Florida when a woman died in childbirth the infant was
held over her face to receive her parting spirit and thus acquire
strength and knowledge for future use," Tylor, i, 433.]
[26\1: And even ~ana\ pro/thuron tetramme/nos~, ~T~ 212, i.e. with
feet turned towards the door. The reason for this custom--which
existed elsewhere, too, and still exists--is hardly to be sought
only in the _ritus naturae_, as Plin. 7, 46, thinks. This has
generally little to do with the customs observed on the solemn
occasions of life. The meaning of the practice is much more naively
revealed in a statement about the manners of the Pehuenchen Indians
in South America given by Pöpig, _Reise in Chile, Peru, etc._, i,
393. There they carry the dead man feet foremost out of the door
"because if the corpse of the dead man were carried out otherwise
his wandering ghost might come back into the house". The Greek
custom, though in Homeric times long faded to a mere symbol, must be
supposed to have depended originally upon similar fears of the
return of the "soul". (Similar precautions arising from the same
belief were customary at funerals elsewhere: Oldenberg, _Rel. d.
Veda_, 573-4 [489 F.T.]. Robinsohn, _Psychol. d. Naturv._, 45 f.)
Belief in the incomplete departure of the soul from this world has
dictated these customs, too.]
[27\1: The details of the procedure until the funeral dirge are
given in ~S~ 343-55.]
[28\1: ~tu/mbos~ and ~stê/lê, P~ 457, 675, ~R~ 434, ~L~ 371, ~m~ 14.
A heaped-up ~sê=ma~ as the burial-place of Eetion round which the
Nymphs plant elms: ~Z~ 419 ff.--which preserves a trace of the
custom, obtaining also in later times, of planting trees and even a
whole grove round the grave.]
[29\1: ~kte/rea ktereï/zein~ in the formula ~sêma/ te/ hoi cheu=ai
kai\ epi\ kte/rea ktereï/zein~, ~a~ 291, ~b~ 222. Here the
~ktereï/zein~ comes after the heaping up of the
grave-mound--possibly the ~kte/rea~ are to be burnt on or at the
grave-mound. Schol. B on ~T~ 212 is, however, mistaken in the rule
deduced from these cases: ~prouti/thesan, ei=ta e/thapton, ei=ta
etumbocho/oun, ei=ta ektere/ïzon~. All the cases refer to the
ceremonial at _empty_ graves. Where the body was obtainable the
relatives or friends would have burnt the ~kte/rea~ with the body.
This is done in the case of Eetion and Elpenor, and it must be
understood in the close connexion of the words ~en puri\ kê/aien
kai\ epi\ kte/rea kteri/saien~, ~Ô~ 38, and again ~o/phr' he/taron
tha/ptoi kai\ epi\ kte/rea kteri/seien~, ~g~ 285.]
[30\1:--a custom that originally belonged to all primitive peoples
and remained in force for a very long time among many of them. _All_
the possessions of a dead Inca remain his own absolute property:
Prescott, _Peru_^4, i, 31. Among the Abipones of Paraguay all the
possessions of the dead are burnt: Klemm, _Culturges._ ii, 99. The
Albanians of the Caucasus buried all the dead man's possessions with
him, ~kai\ dia\ tou=to pe/nêtes zô=sin oude\n patrô=|on e/chontes~,
Str. 503. Of ancient origin are also the extravagant burial customs
of the Mingrelians living in what was formerly Albania: Chardin,
_Voy. en Perse_ (ed. **Langlès), i, 325, 298, 314, 322.] {48}
[31\1: Examples given by O. Jahn, _Persius_, p. 219 fin.]
[32\1: ~psuchê\ d' ek rhethe/ôn ptame/nê A/ïdo/sde bebê/kei, ho\n
po/tmon goo/ôsa lipou=s' androtê=ta kai\ hêbên~, ~P~ 756. ~Ch~ 362
cf. ~U~ 294, ~N~ 415. ~psuchê\ d' Aïdo/sde katê=lthen~, ~k~ 560, ~l~
65. Complete departure into the depths of the kingdom of Hades is
more clearly expressed in such words as ~bai/ên do/mon A/ïdos
_ei/sô_~, ~Ô~ 246, ~ki/on A/ïdos ei/sô~, ~Z~ 422, etc. Again, in ~l~
150, the soul of Teiresias while speaking to Odysseus is still in
Hades in the wider sense but is more exactly on the extreme edge of
that region: we are told ~psuchê\ me\n e/bê do/mon A/ïdos
_ei/sô_~--now at last it goes back again into the depths of the
Kingdom of Hades.]
[33\1: Aristonikos on ~Ps~ 104: ~hê diplê= ho/ti ta\s tô=n ata/phôn
psucha\s Ho/mêros e/ti sôzou/sas tê\n phro/nêsin hupoti/thetai~.
(Rather too systematically put by Porph. ap. Stob., _Ecl._ i, p.
422, 20 ff., 425, 25 ff. W.) Elpenor is the first to approach
Odysseus' sacrificial trench ~ou ga/r pô ete/thapto~, ~l~ 52. His
~psuchê/~ had not yet been received into Hades (_Rh. Mus._ 1, 615).
Achilles' treatment of the body of Hektor shows that he thought of
his enemy (because he was still unburied) as being able to feel what
was done to him: lacerari eum et sentire credo putat, Cic., _TD._ i,
105.]
[34\1: Plin. vii, 187, explains the change among the Romans from
burial to cremation as being due to the fear that in times of war
and disturbance the dead might be deprived of their rest. If a man
dies in war time, i.e. during a period of temporary nomadism, his
body is burnt, but a limb (sometimes the head) is cut off to be
taken home and buried ad quod servatum iusta fierent, Paul. Festi,
148, 11; Varro, _LL._ v, 23; Cic., _Lg._ ii, 55, 60. The same custom
is found among certain German tribes: see Weinhold, _Sitzb. Wien.
Ac._ xxix, 156; xxx, 208. Even among the negroes of Guinea and the
South American Indians practices resembling the _os resectum_ of the
Romans are found in the case of those who die in war in foreign
country; cf. Klemm, _Culturg._ iii, 297; ii, 98 f. In every case
burial is regarded as the ancient and traditional mode of disposing
of the dead, and the one strictly required on religious grounds.]
[35\1: Only once is there any mention of taking home the burnt
bones, ~Ê~ 334 f. Aristarch. rightly recognized this as being in
conflict with the normal conceptions and practice of Homer and
regarded the lines as the composition of a later poet (Sch. A ad
loc. and on ~D~ 174; Sch. EMQ., ~g~ 109). The lines may have been
inserted to account for the absence from the Troad of such enormous
grave-mounds as the burial of the ashes of both armies should have
produced. The same reason--the desire expressed in these lines to
bring back those who have died in a foreign country to their own
land at last--is implied as the origin of cremation in the
illustrative story of Herakles and Argeios, the son of Likymnios, in
the ~histori/a~ (derived from Andron) of Sch. A on ~A~ 52.]
[36\1: _Kl. Schr._ ii, 216, 220.]
[37\1: It would apply better to Roman beliefs; cf. Vg., _A._ iv,
698-9--though even that means something else. (Cf. also Oldenberg,
_Rel. d. Veda_, 585, 2.)]
[38\1: Cf. esp. ~Ps~ 75-6, ~l~ 218-22.]
[39\1: Serv. ad _A._ iii, 68: Aegyptii condita diutius servant
cadavera scilicet ut anima multo tempore perduret et corpori sit
obnoxia nec cito ad aliud transeat. Romani contra faciebant,
comburentes cadavera ut statim anima in generalitatem, i.e. in suam
naturam rediret (the pantheistic touch may be neglected).--Cf. the
account given by Ibn Foslan of the burial customs of the pagan
Russians {49} (quoted from Frähn by J. Grimm, _Kl. Schr._ ii, 292):
the preference for burning was due to the idea that the soul was
less quickly set free on its way to Paradise when the body was
buried intact, than when it was destroyed by fire.]
[40\1: Cf. the Hymn of the Rigveda (x, 16) which is to be said at a
cremation, esp. v. 2, 9 (quoted by Zimmer, _Altind. Leben_, 402 f.),
and also _Rigv._ x, 14, 8 (Zimmer, p. 409). The Indians also wished
to prevent the return of the dead to the world of the living. The
feet of the corpse were chained so that the dead could not return
(Zimmer, p. 402).]
[41\1: It lies at the root of the stories of Demeter and Demophoon
(or Triptolemos), and also that of Thetis and Achilles, when the
goddess, laying the mortal child in the fire, ~periê/|rei ta\s
thnêta\s sa/rkas, e/phtheiren ho\ ê=n autô=| thnêto/n~, in order to
make it immortal (cf. Preller, _Dem. u. Perseph._, 112); cf. also
the custom observed at certain festivals (? of Hecate, cf. Bergk,
_PLG._ iii, 682) of lighting fires in the streets and leaping
through the flames carrying children, see Grimm (E.T.), p. 625; cf.
also Cic., _Div._ i, 47: o praeclarum discessum cum ut Herculi
contigit mortali corpore cremato in lucem animus excessit! Ov.,
_M._, ix, 250: Luc., _Herm._, 7; Q.S. v, 640 ff. (For more about the
"purifying" effects of fire, see below, chap. ix, n. 127.)]
[42\1: Nothing else than this is implied by the words of ~Ê~ 409-10,
~ou ga\r tis pheidô\ neku/ôn katatethnêô/tôn gi/gnet', epei/ ke
tha/nôsi puro\s meilisse/men ô=ka~. The souls of the dead must be
quickly "assuaged with fire" (their longing gratified) and so their
bodies are burnt. Purification from what is mortal and unclean,
which Dieterich (_Nekyia_, 197, 3) thinks is referred to in this
passage, is certainly not suggested as such by the words of the
poet.]
[43\1: Light may be incidentally thrown on the question of the
transition from burial to cremation by such a story as that which an
Icelandic Saga tells of a man who is buried by his own wish before
the door of his house; "but as he returned and did much mischief his
body was exhumed and burnt and the ashes scattered over the sea"
(Weinhold, _Altnord. Leben_, 499). We often read in old stories how
the body of a dead man who goes about as a vampire is burnt. His
soul is then exorcized and cannot come back again.]
[44\1: It is natural to think of Asiatic influence. Cremation
hearths have recently (1893) been discovered in Babylonia.]
[45\1: See Helbig, _D. Hom. Epos aus d. Denkm. erl._, 42 f.]
[46\1: That the men of the "Mycenaean" culture, though much affected
by foreign influences, were Greeks--the Greeks of the Heroic age of
whom Homer speaks--may now be regarded as certain (see esp. E.
Reisch, _Verh. Wien. Philol._, 99 ff.).]
[47\1: See Schliemann, _Mycenae_, E.T., 155, 165, 213-14.]
[48\1: Helbig. _Hom. Epos_^2, p. 52.]
[49\1: Cf. K. Weinhold, _Sitzb. Wien. Ak._, 1858 (_Phil. hist.
Cl._), xxix, pp. 121, 125, 141. The remarkable coincidences between
the Mycenaean and these North European burial customs do not seem as
yet to have been noticed. (The object of this elaborate foundation
and covering may have been to preserve the corpse from decay longer,
and especially from the effects of damp.)]
[50\1: Also in the domed grave of Dimini: _Ath. Mitth._, xii, 138.]
[51\1: The soul of a dead man from whom a favourite possession is
withheld returns (equally whether the body and the possessions with
it are burnt or buried). The story in Lucian, _Philops._, xxvii, of
the wife of Eukrates (cf. Hdt. v, 92~ê~), is quite in accordance
with popular belief.] {50}
[52\1: Schliemann, _Myc._, 212-13: see plan F. A similar altar in
the Hall of the Palace of Tiryus: Schuchhardt, _Schliemann's Exc._
(E.T.), p. 107.]
[53\1: ~escha/ra~ is essentially ~eph' hê=s toi=s hê/rôsin
apothu/omen~, Poll. i, 8; cf. Neanthes ap. Ammon., _Diff. Voc._, p.
34 V. Such an altar rested directly on the ground without anything
intervening (~mê\ e/chousa hu/psos all' epi\ gê=s hidrume/nê~), it
is round (~strogguloeidê/s~) and hollow (~koi/lê~): cf. esp. Harp.,
87, 15 ff. Phot., s.v. ~escha/ra~ (2 glosses); _AB._ 256, 32; _EM._,
384, 12 ff.; Sch. on ~z~ 52; Eust., _Od._, p. 1939 (~ps~ 71): Sch.
Eur., _Ph._, 284. It is evident that the ~escha/ra~ is not very far
removed from the sacrificial trench of the cult of the dead: thus it
is actually called also ~bo/thros~; Sch. Eur., _Ph._, 274 (~skaptê/~
S. Byz., 191, 7 Mein.).]
[54\1: Stengel has a different view (_Chthon. u. Todt._, 427, 2).]
II
[55\1: It is doubtful whether Homer even knew of dream-oracles
(which would be closely related to oracles of the dead**). That in
~A~ 63 ~egkoi/mêsis~ is "at least alluded to" (as Nägelsbach,
_Nachhom. Theol._, 172, thinks) is by no means certain. The
~oneiropo/los~ would not be a priest who intentionally gave himself
up to prophetic sleep and thus ~hupe\r hete/rôn onei/rous hora=|~,
but rather an ~oneirokri/tês~--an interpreter of other men's
unsought dream-visions.]
[56\1: Even the river-gods and Nymphs who are usually confined to
their own homes are called to the ~agora/~ of all the gods in
Olympos, ~U~ 4 ff. These deities who remain fixed in the locality of
their worship are weaker than the Olympians just because they are
not elevated with the rest to the ideal summit of Olympos. Kalypso
resignedly admits this, ~e~ 169 f., ~ei/ ke theoi/ g' ethe/lôsi,
toi\ ourano\n euru\n e/chousin, hoi/ meu phe/rteroi/ eisi noê=sai/
te krê=nai/ te~. They have sunk to the second rank of deities. They
are, however, never thought of as free and independent, but as a
mere addition to the kingdom of Zeus and the other Olympians.]
[57\1: Exx. in Nägelsbach, _Hom. Theol._^2, 387 f. (~phre/nes~), W.
Schrader, _Jb. f. Philol._ 1885, p. 163 f. (~ê=tor~).]
[58\1: The belief in the existence of more than one soul in the same
person is very wide-spread. See J. G. Müller, _Americ. Urrelig._, p.
66, 207 f., Tylor, i, 432 f. The distinction between the five
spiritual powers dwelling within man given by the Avesta rests upon
similar grounds (Geiger, _Civ. of East. Iran_, 1, 124 ff.). Even in
Homer Gomperz, _Greek Thinkers_, i, 249, finds a "two-soul" theory
fully developed. According to him Homer recognizes in the
~thumo/s~--a word supposed to be derived from the steam rising from
freshly shed and still warm blood--a second soul in addition to the
~psuchê/~: a "smoke-soul" side by side with the "breath-soul". But
if by soul a "something" is meant--as it must be in popular
psychology--which is added independently to the body and its
faculties, something which lives separately in the body and after
the death of the body (with which it is not indissolubly united)
dissociates itself and goes off independently--then the ~thumo/s~ of
Homer cannot be called a "soul" or a double of the ~psuchê/~. Again
and again the ~thumo/s~ is clearly referred to as a mental faculty
of the living body; either thinking or willing or merely feeling
(~thumô=| noe/ô, thumô=| dei=sai, gêthê/sei thumô=|, echolô/sato
thumô=|, ê/rare thumo\n edôdê=|~, etc.) is conducted by its means.
It is the seat of the emotions (~me/nos e/llabe thumo/n~) and
belongs to the body of the living man, and is especially enclosed in
the ~phre/nes~. In the face of {51} this it is impossible to regard
it as something independent of the body or as anything else than a
special faculty of the same living body. Once, indeed, ~Ê~ 131, the
~thumo/s~ is spoken of, instead of ~psuchê/ as that which goes down
to Haides, but this can only be an error or an oversight (see also
below, ch. xi, n. 2). According to Homeric ideas--and this is a
conception repeated over and over again in Greek literature and even
in Greek philosophy--the body has all its vital powers in itself,
not merely ~thumo/s~ but ~me/nos, no/os, mê=tis, boulê/~. Yet it
only acquires life when supplemented by the ~psuchê/~, which is
something different from all these bodily powers--something with an
independent being of its own and alone deserving the name "soul", a
name which belongs as little to ~thumo/s~ as to ~no/os~. Gomperz
thinks that ~thumo/s~, etc., were at first the only recognized
faculties of the body and that ~psuchê/~ was only (for the Greeks)
added later. This is certainly not to be made out from Homer--or any
other part of Greek literature.]
[59\1: ~peri\ psuchê=s the/on~, ~Ch~ 161; ~peri\ psuche/ôn
ema/chonto~, ~ch~ 245; ~psuchê\n paraballo/menos~, ~I~ 322;
~psucha\s parthe/menoi~, ~g~ 74, ~i~ 255; ~psuchê=s anta/xion~, ~I~
401; and cf. ~i~ 523: ~ai\ ga\r dê\ psuchê=s te kai\ aiô=no/s se
dunai/mên eu=nin poiê/sas pe/mpsai do/mon A/ïdos ei/sô~. No one
strictly speaking can go into Hades bereft of his ~psuchê/~, for it
is the ~psuchê/~ alone which goes there. Thus ~psuchê/~ here clearly
= life, as is shown also by the addition of the words ~kai\ aiô=nos~
for the sake of clearness. It is more doubtful whether this is the
explanation of ~psuchê=s o/lethros~, ~Ch~ 325, or of ~psucha\s
ole/santes~, ~N~ 763, ~Ô~ 168. Other passages adduced by Nägelsb.,
_Hom. Th._^2, 381, and Schrader, _Jb. f. Philol._ 1885, p. 167,
either admit or require the material sense of the word ~psuchê/~:
e.g. ~E~ 696 ff., ~Th~ 123, ~s~ 91, etc.]
III
[60\1: A more detailed statement and documentation of the following
analysis of the Nekyia in Od. ~l~ will be found in _Rh. Mus._ 1, 600
ff. (1895). [_Kl. Schr._ ii, 255.]]
[61\1: The information given by Teiresias, ~l~ 107 ff., about
Thrinakia and the cattle of Helios seems to be put in such a brief
and inadequate form just because the fuller account given by Kirke,
~m~ 127, was already known to the poet who did not wish to repeat
this word for word.]
[62\1: A final example of such pictures intended to suggest the
background of the Odyssey is the conversation between Achilles and
Agamemnon in the "second Nekyia", ~ô~ 19 ff. The composer of these
lines has understood quite correctly the meaning and purpose of his
model, the original Nekyia of ~l~, though his continuation of it is
certainly very clumsy.]
[63\1: ~k~ 539-40 is borrowed from ~d~ 389-90, 470.--I find after
writing this that Kammer had already suggested imitation of ~d~ in
the Nekyia: _Einheit d. Od._, 494 f.]
[64\1: It is striking (and may have some special reason) that in
Kirke's account there is no mention of the Kimmerians. It is easier
to see why the careful description of the country in Kirke's speech,
~k~ 509-15, is not afterwards repeated but merely recalled to the
memory of the reader in a few words (~l~ 21-2).]
[65\1: I can see no essential difference between the conception and
situation of Hades as indicated in the Iliad and the account given
in the Nekyia of the Odyssey. J. H. Voss and Nitzsch were right in
this matter. Nor do the additional details given in the "second
Nekyia" of ~ô~ essentially "conflict" (as Teuffel, _Stud. u.
Charact._, thinks) with the description of the first Nekyia. It does
not adhere {52} slavishly to its original, but it rests upon the
same fundamental conceptions.]
[66\1: Sch. H.Q., ~k~ 514, ~Puriphlege/thôn, ê/toi to\ pu=r to\
aphani/zon to\ sa/rkinon tô=n brotô=n~, cf. Apollodor., ~p. theô=n~,
ap. Stob., _Ecl._ i, p. 420, 9 W. ~Puriphlege/thôn ei/rêtai apo\ tou=
puri\ phle/gesthai tou\s teleutô=ntas~.]
[67\1: Acheron, too, seems to be regarded as a river. The soul of
the unburied Patroklos, which has already departed, ~an' eurupule\s
A/ïdos dô=~, and has therefore passed over Okeanos, is prevented by
the other souls from passing over "the river", ~Ps~ 72 f. This can
hardly be the Okeanos, and must, therefore, be Acheron (so, too,
Porph. ap. Stob., _Ecl._ i, p. 422 f., 426 W.). ~k~ 515 does not in
the least prove that Acheron was thought of as a lake and not a
river, as Bergk, _Opusc._ ii, 695, thinks.]
[68\1: Cf. ~l~ 206 ff., 209-393 ff., 475.]
[69\1: See ~P~ 851 ff. (Patroklos), ~Ch~ 358 ff. (Hektor), ~l~ 69
ff. Behind each of these there lies the ancient belief that the soul
in the moment of escape achieves a higher state of being and returns
to a form of knowledge independent of sense-perception (cf. Artemon
ap. Sch., ~P~ 854, Arist. _fr._ 12 (10) R.). Otherwise this power
belongs to gods and, strictly, only to Zeus, who can foresee
everything (in Homer). But the statements are intentionally modified
to suggest an undefined middle position between prophecy in the full
sense and mere ~stocha/zesthai~ (cf. Sch. B.V., ~Ch~ 359)--~Ch~ 359
at the most may go beyond this point.]
[70\1: ~l~ 218-24.]
[71\1: ~o/ïn arneio\n rhe/zein, thê=lu/n te me/lainan, eis E/rebos
stre/psas~, ~k~ 527 f. From the word ~me/lainan~ the ~o/ïn
arneio\n~ is also to be understood ~apo\ koinou=~ as being, more
precisely, black (and so again in 572)--the ram offered to the gods
(or Souls) of the underworld is regularly black. ~eis E/rebos
stre/psas~, i.e. bending the head downwards (not towards the west) =
~es bo/thron~, ~l~ 36--as Nitzsch rightly explains it. Everything
corresponds to the regular ~e/ntoma~ of later times for the
underworld beings (cf. Stengel, _Ztsch. f. Gymn._, 1880, p. 743
f.).]
[72\1: ~koinê/ tis para\ anthrô/pois esti\n hupo/lêpsis ho/ti
nekroi\ kai\ dai/mones si/dêron phobou=ntai~, Sch. Q., ~l~ 48. It is
really the _sound_ of the bronze or iron that drives away spirits:
Luc., _Philops_. 15 (cf. O. Jahn, _Abergl. d. bös. Blicks_, 70). But
even the mere presence of iron objects is sufficient: [Aug.] _Hom.
de sacrileg._ (about the seventh century), 22, states that to the
_sacrilegi_ belong among others those who wear rings or armlets of
iron, aut qui in domo sua quaecumque de ferro, propter ut daemones
timeant, ponunt.]
[73\1: The idea that the Thesprotian ~nekuomantei=on~ by the river
Acheron was the original of the Homeric picture was first started by
Paus. 1, 17, 5. He was followed by K. O. Müller, _Introd. to a
Scientific System of Myth._, pp. 297-8 (_E. T._, Leitch), who has
been followed by many others. But it has scarcely more justification
than has e.g. the localization of the Homeric entrance to Hades at
Cumae, Herakleia Pont. (cf. _Rh. Mus._ 36, 555 ff.), or other places
of ancient worship of the dead (e.g. Pylos). At such places the
traditional names of Acheron, Kokytos, Pyriphlegethon were easily
introduced--but taken from Homer and not coming thence into Homer.
The fact that it is just this Thesprotian oracle of the dead that is
mentioned in Hdt.'s well-known story (v, 92 ~ê~) does not at all
prove that this was the oldest of all such oracles.]
[74\1: To this extent Lobeck's denial of necromancy to the Homeric
poems (_Agl._ 316) may, perhaps, require to be modified; but so
modified it may be accepted.] {53}
[75\1: In accordance with primeval sacrificial custom. To the dead
only female (or castrated) animals are offered (see Stengel,
_Chthon. u. Todtenc._, 424). Here it is a ~stei=ra bou=s, a/gona
toi=s ago/nois~ (Sch.). So among the Indians, "to the Manes that are
without the powers of life and procreation" a wether instead of a
ram was offered: Oldenberg, _Rel. d. Ved._, 358 [= 306 Fr. T.].]
[76\1: ~Ô~ 592 ff. Achilles says to the dead Patroklos ~mê/ moi
Pa/trokle skudmaine/men ai/ ke pu/thêai ein A/ïdo/s per eô\n ho/ti
He/ktora di=on e/lusa patri\ phi/lô|, e/pei ou/ moi aeike/a dô=ken
a/poina. soi\ d' au= egô\ kai\ tô=nd' apoda/ssomai ho/ss'
epe/oiken~. The possibility that the dead in Hades may be able to
know what is happening in the upper world is referred to only
hypothetically (~ai/ ke~)--not so, however, the intention of giving
the dead man a share in the gifts of Priam (~di' epitaphi/ôn eis
auto\n agô/nôn~ as Sch. B.V. on 594 thinks). The strangeness of such
a promise seems to have been one of the reasons that made Aristarch.
(unjustly) athetize ll. 594-5.]
[77\1: 40-1. This is not un-Homeric, cf. esp. ~X~ 456. Thus on many
vase-paintings we see the psyche of a fallen warrior flying over the
corpse, often clad in full armour, but very diminutive in size--to
express invisibility.]
[78\1: Strictly speaking Odysseus is supposed to enter into
conversation with the women while each informs him of her fate
(231-4); every now and then comes a ~pha/to~ 236, ~phê=~ 237,
~eu/cheto~ 261, ~pha/ske~ 306. But the whole section is little more
than a review at which Odysseus assists without taking any real
part.]
[79\1: Cf. _Rh. Mus._ 1, 625 ff. The nearest parallel to such a
distinction between an ~ei/dôlon~ and the fully animated ~auto/s~ is
to be found in what Stesichoros (and Hesiod before him: see Paraphr.
ant. Lyc., 822, p. 71, Scheer, and _PLG._ iii, p. 215) relates of
Helen and her ~ei/dôlon~. Prob. this latter story gave rise to the
insertion of these lines, ~l~ 602 ff.]
[80\1: Cf. 623 ff.]
[81\1: Welcker, _Gr. Götterl._ i, 818, and others following him.]
[82\1: [Apollod.] 1, 9, 3, 2; Sch., ~A~ 180 (p. 18b, 23 ff., Bekk.)
gives as reason for the punishment of Sisyphos that he betrayed to
Asopos the rape of his daughter Aigina by Zeus. This, however, does
not rest upon good epic tradition. Another story follows up the
betrayal with the myth of the outwitting of Death and then Hades by
S., after which he is sent down to Hades again and punished by the
task of the endless stone-rolling. The story of the double
outwitting of the powers of death (cf. the similar fairy tale of
_Spielhansel_: Grimm, _Fairy Tales_, n. 82, and _Anm._, vol. ii, p.
163, ed. 1915) is obviously intended humorously, and so it seems to
have been treated in a satyr-drama of Aesch., the ~Si/suphos
drape/tês~ [Sch., ~Z~ 153.] The fact that this story ends in the
punishment of the stone-rolling ought to be sufficient warning
against taking it in the serious and edifying sense in which Welcker
and his followers interpret it. It is quite contrary to ancient
ideas to suppose that Sis. is punished for his cunning as a warning
to other crafty (as well as good) men. In ~Z~ 153 he is called
~ke/rdistos andrô=n~ as praise and not blame: so Aristarch. rightly
maintained and supported his case by clear ~anaphora/~ to the line
of the Nekyia (see Sch., ~Z~ 153, ~K~ 44, Lehrs, _Aristarch._^3, p.
117 and ~l~ 593). The idea that the adj. refers to the ~kako/tropon~
of S. is merely a misunderstanding of Porph. ap. Sch., ~l~ 385. How
little anyone thought of S. as a criminal, even with the Homeric
story in his mind, is shown by the Platonic Sokrates who _rejoices_
(_Apol._, 41 C) over the fact that in Hades he will meet, amongst
others, Sisyphos (cf. also {54} Thgn., 702 ff.). The case of Sis.
presents the most serious difficulties that face any attempt to give
a moralizing sense (quite outside the poet's intention) to the
section of the "three penitents". (See also _Rh. Mus._ 1, 630.)]
[83\1: ~G~ 279, ~T~ 260 (cf. _Rh. Mus._ 1, 8). Nitzsch, _Anm. z.
Od._ iii, p. 184 f., vainly employs all the arts of interpretation
and criticism to deny their obvious meaning to both passages.]
[84\1: K. O. Müller, _Aeschylus Eumenides_, p. 167 = E.T., 1853, p.
159.]
[85\1: It should be remembered also that no legal penalties against
perjury existed in Greece, any more than in Rome. They were
unnecessary in face of the general expectation that the deity whom
the perjurer had invoked against himself would take immediate
revenge upon the criminal. (Esp. instructive are the words of
Agamemnon on the Trojan breach of faith, ~D~ 158 ff.) Such revenge
would be taken either during the life time of the perjurer--in which
case the instruments of vengeance would be the spirits of Hell, the
Erinyes: Hes., _Op._, 802 ff.--or else after death.]
[86\1: The oath as a bond in favour of the oath-gods: Thgn., 1195
f., ~mê/ti theou\s epi/orkon epo/mnuthi, ou ga\r anusto\n
athana/tous kru/psai _chrei=os_ opheilo/menon~. Perjury would be
~eis theou\s hamarta/nein~, Soph. _fr._ 431 (472 P.).]
[87\1: Eust., _Od._, p. 1614-15, has understood this. He calls
attention to Pi., _P_. 4, 159, ~ke/letai ga\r hea\n psucha\n
komi/zai Phri/xos eltho/ntas pro\s Aiê/ta thala/mous~--on which
passage the Sch. refers us back again to Homer. Both passages imply
the same belief: ~tô=n apolome/nôn en xe/nê| gê=| ta\s psucha\s
euchai=s tisin epekalou=nto apopleo/ntes hoi phi/loi eis tê\n
ekei/nôn patri/da kai\ edo/koun _kata/gein_ autou\s pro\s tou\s
oikei/ous~ (Sch. ~i~ 65 f., Sch. ~Ê~, ~i~ 62). Nitzsch, _Anm._ iii,
17-18, vainly attempts to get out of the necessity of seeing in this
act the fulfilment of a religious duty. He supposes that Odysseus is
merely satisfying a "need of the heart", etc. The real meaning of
religious performance is too often obscured by such "ethical"
interpretation.]
[88\1: The command of Athene to Telem., ~a~ 291, presupposes as
universally customary the erection of a cenotaph for those who die
in foreign lands unless their bodies can be obtained by their
friends. Menelaos erects an empty tomb to Agamemnon in Egypt, ~d~
584.]
[89\1: ~d~ 584, ~cheu=' Agame/mnoni tu/mbon hi=n' a/sbeston kle/os
ei/ê~. ~l~ 75 f., ~sê=ma/ te/ moi cheu=ai poliê=s epi\ thini\
thala/ssês, andro\s dustê/noio, kai\ essome/noisi pu/thesthai~.
Achilles in the second Nekyia, ~ô~ 30 ff., says to Agam.: Would thou
hadst died before Troy, for then the Achaeans would have set up a
tomb for thee and ~kai\ sô=| paidi\ me/ga kle/os ê/ra' opi/ssô~ (cf.
93 f., where Agam. says to Achilles ~hôs su\ me\n oude\ thanô\n
o/nom' ô/lesas alla/ toi aiei\ pa/ntas ep' anthrô/pous kle/os
e/ssetai esthlo\n Achilleu=~). The words of Hektor, ~Ê~ 84 ff., show
how the ~sê=ma epi\ platei= Hellêspo/ntô|~ served to remind sailors
as they passed, ~andro\s me\n to/de sê=ma pa/lai katatethnêô=tos
ktl.~ and to suggest that this was the proper and principal purpose
of such erections.--In contrast with this cf. what is stated of the
inhabitants of the Philippine Islands: "they laid their illustrious
dead in a chest and set them up on a high place or on a rock by the
bank of a river in order that they might be _worshipped_ by the
pious": Lippert, _Seelencult_, p. 22.]
{{55}}
CHAPTER II
ISLANDS OF THE BLEST
_TRANSLATION_
The Homeric picture of the shadow-life of the disembodied soul is
the work of resignation, not of hope. Hope would never have beguiled
itself with the anticipation of a state of things which neither
afforded men the chance of further activity after death, nor, on the
other hand, gave them rest from the toil of life; one which promised
them only a restless, purposeless fluttering to and fro, an
existence, indeed, but without any of the content that might have
made it worthy of the name of life.
Was there never any aspiration after a more consolatory picture of
the life after death? Did the tremendous vital energies of that time
really devote themselves so completely to the realms of Zeus that
not even a ray of hope penetrated to the House of Hades? We should
have had to suppose so were it not for a single passing glimpse
which we get of a distant land of hearts' desire, such as even the
Greece that lay under the sway of the Homeric order of things still
imagined for itself.
When Proteus, the sea-god who could foretell the future, has
finished informing Menelaos, on the sea-shore of Egypt, of the
circumstances of his return home to his country and of the fate of
his dearest companions, he adds the prophetic words--so Menelaos
himself informs Telemachos in the fourth book of the Odyssey (560
ff.): "But thou, god-like Menelaos, art not ordained to die in
horse-pasturing Argos or to meet thy fate there; for the immortals
shall send thee far away to the Elysian plain, to the ends of the
world where dwells fair-haired Rhadamanthys, and where life is most
easy for men. There is neither snow nor heavy storms nor rain, but
Okeanos ever sends zephyrs with soft-breathing breezes to refresh
men--because thou hast Helen to wife and art thereby in their eyes
the son-in-law of Zeus."
These verses allow us a glimpse into a world about which the Homeric
poems are otherwise silent. At the end of the {56} world, by the
River Okeanos, lies the "Elysian Plain", a land where the sky is
always clear, as in the land where the gods live.[1\2] There dwells
the great Rhadamanthys, not alone, one may suppose as "men" are
spoken of (565, 568). Thither shall the gods some day send
Menelaos--he is not to die (562); that is to say, he is to reach
that place alive nor shall he suffer death there. The place to which
he is to be sent is not a part of the realm of Hades, but a land on
the surface of the earth set apart as the abode not of disembodied
"souls", but of men whose souls have not been separated from their
visible selves--for only thus can they feel and enjoy the sense of
_life_ (565). The picture which fancy has drawn here is the precise
opposite of the blessed immortality of the soul in its separate
existence. Just because such an idea remained quite unthinkable for
Homeric singers, hope sought and found an exit from the shadow-world
which swallows up all living energy. Hope imagined a land at the end
of the world, but still of this world, to which occasionally some
few favourites of the gods might be "translated" without the psyche
being separated from its body and descending to Hades.
The actual mention of such miraculous "translation" stands alone in
the Homeric poems, and the passage in the Odyssey seems to have been
introduced by a later hand.[2\2] But the conditions of such a
miracle are all implied within the range of Homeric ideas. Menelaos
is carried off by the power of the gods and lives an eternal life
far from the world of mortals. The belief that a god could suddenly
withdraw his earthly favourite from the eyes of men and invisibly
waft him away on the breeze not infrequently finds its application
in the battle-scenes of the Iliad.[3\2] The gods could also make a
mortal "invisible" for a prolonged period. When Odysseus has been so
long lost to his friends they suspect that the gods have "made him
invisible" (_Od._ i, 235 ff.); they do not regard him as "dead" but
"the Harpies have carried him away", and he is consequently
withdrawn from all human ken (_Od._ i, 241 f.; xiv, 371). Penelope,
in her grief, prays _either_ for swift death through the arrows of
Artemis, _or_ that a storm wind may lift her up and carry her away
on dark pathways to the mouths of Okeanos, that is, to the entrance
of the Land of the Dead (_Od._ xx, 61-5; 79 ff.).[4\2] To explain
her wish she recalls a fairy tale of the kind that must often have
been told in the women's quarters; how the daughters of Pandareos,
after the violent death of their parents, were brought up to lovely
maidenhood by Aphrodite and provided by Hera, Artemis, and Athene
with all kinds of gifts and {57} accomplishments; till one day when
Aphrodite had gone to Olympos to ask Zeus to make a match for them,
the Harpies came and carried them off and made them the hand-maidens
of the hated Erinyes.[5\2] This folk-tale reveals more clearly than
is usual with the generally cultured Homeric narrative the popular
belief that men might be carried off permanently from the land of
the living, and, without seeing death, live on in another
dwelling-place. For the daughters of Pandareos are carried away
alive--to the Kingdom of the Dead, it is true, for that is where
they must go if they become the servants of the Erinyes, the spirits
of the underworld.[6\2] That is where Penelope wishes to be carried
off, and without dying first--away from the land of the living which
has become intolerable for her. Such a translation is accomplished
by means of the Harpies or the Stormwind, which is the same thing,
since the Harpies are nothing else but wind-deities of a peculiarly
sinister kind. They may be compared to the Devil's Bride or the
"Whirlwind's Bride" of German folk-tales, who rides in the whirlwind
and also carries off men with her.[7\2] The Harpies and what we are
here told of them, belong to the "vulgar mythology" which so seldom
finds any expression in Homer; a popular folk-lore that could tell
of many things between heaven and earth of which the Homeric "grand
style" takes little notice. In Homer the Harpies never act on their
own authority; only as the servants of the gods or of a single god
do they transport mortals where no word of man, no human power, can
reach.[8\2]
The prophesied removal of Menelaos to the Elysian fields at the end
of the world is only another example of such a "translation" by the
will and the might of the gods. Even the fact that prolonged
habitation in that happy land, inaccessible to other men, is
promised to him, does not differentiate the fate of Menelaos from
that of the daughters of Pandareos, or from that which Penelope
wishes for herself. For Menelaos, however, immortal life is promised
not in Hades, or even at its entrance, but in a special country of
the blest, as though in a new kingdom of the gods. He is to become a
"god"; for since to the Homeric poets "god" and "immortal" are
interchangeable terms, a man who is granted immortality (that is,
whose psyche is never separated from his visible self) becomes for
them a god.
It is also a Homeric belief that gods can raise mortals to their own
realm, to immortality. Kalypso wishes to make Odysseus "immortal and
ageless for all time", that he may remain for ever by her side
(_Od._ v, 135 f.; 209 f.; xxiii, 335 f.), {58} that is to say, make
him a god like herself. The immortality of the gods is conditioned
by the eating of the magic food ambrosia and nectar;[9\2] man, too,
by eating continually the food of the gods, becomes an immortal god.
What Odysseus in his longing for the earthly home, to which he is
drawn by loyalty and duty, rejects, has been attained by other
mortals. The Homeric poems can tell of more than one mortal promoted
to immortal life.
As he is struggling in the stormy sea rescue comes to Odysseus in
the person of Ino Leukothea, once the daughter of Kadmos, "who had
formerly been a mortal woman, but now in the waves of the sea shares
in the honour of the gods" (_Od._ v, 333 ff.).[10\2] Did some god of
the sea bear her away and imprison her for ever in his own element?
The belief existed that a god might descend from heaven even upon an
earthly maiden and carry her off for ever as his spouse (_Od._ vi,
280 f.).[11\2]
Ganymede, the most beautiful of mortals, had been carried away by
the gods to Olympos to dwell among immortals, as the cup-bearer of
Zeus (_Il._ xx, 232 ff.).[12\2] He was a scion of the old Trojan
royal house, to which Tithonos also belonged, whom both the Iliad
and the Odyssey already know as the husband of Eos; from his side
the goddess arose every morning to bring the light of day to gods
and men.[13\2] It appears that she had "translated" her beloved not
to Olympos but to the distant dwelling-place by the River Okeanos
from which she sets out in the morning.[14\2] It was Eos who had
once borne off the beautiful Orion, and in spite of the jealousy of
the other gods had enjoyed his love until Artemis "on Ortygia" had
slain him with her gentle arrow (_Od._ v, 122 ff.). The story may be
derived from ancient star-myths, which represented in the language
of myth what is actually to be observed in the morning sky. But in
such myths the elements and celestial phenomena are thought of as
living and animate like men. And in the same way, these
star-spirits, in accordance with the regular development of legend,
have long ago sunk, for the Homeric poet, to the level of earthly
youths and heroes. If the goddess can raise Orion into her own
kingdom, then, according to the belief of the time (which is all
that matters to us here), the same thing might happen to any mortal
through the favour of the gods. A simple imitation of the same
legend in a purely human setting is the story of Kleitos, a youth of
the family of the seer Melampous, whom Eos has carried off for the
sake of his beauty that he may dwell among the gods (_Od._ xv, 249
f.). {59}
§ 2
The translation, then, of Menelaos, while still alive, to the ends
of the earth to live there in perpetual blessedness is indeed a
miracle, but a miracle that finds its justification and precedent in
the range of Homeric belief. The only thing new about it is that
Menelaos has a special dwelling-place assigned to him, not in the
land of the gods, the proper realm of immortality, nor as in the
case of Tithonos and as Kalypso desired for Odysseus, in the company
of a deity, but in a separate place specially allotted to the
translated hero, the Elysian fields. Nor does this appear to be the
invention of the writer of these lines. He refers so briefly to the
"Land of the Departed"[15\2] and its delights that we are forced to
believe that he did not himself originate so enticing a
vision.[16\2] He can only, in the case of Menelaos, have added a
fresh companion to the company of the blessed. That Rhadamanthys the
Just dwells there seems to be known to him from ancient tradition,
for he evidently only intends to recall the fact and does not think
it necessary to justify this selection of the brother of
Minos.[17\2] It might even be supposed that the picture of such a
wonderland had been invented and embellished by older poets simply
for the benefit of Rhadamanthys. The only novelty is that this
picture, which has been fully adopted into the circle of Homeric
poetry, now includes a hero of the Trojan epic cycle among the
number of those translated to that land of ever unclouded happiness.
The lines were inserted, as has already been remarked, at a later
date, into the prophecy of Proteus, and it is hard not to suppose
that the whole idea lay far from the thoughts of previous Homeric
singers. Would the flower of the heroic chivalry, including Achilles
himself, have been doomed to that dim shadow-world in which we see
them wandering in the Nekyia of the Odyssey, if a way out into a
life exempt from death had already revealed itself to imagination at
the time when the Epic gave the stamp of its approval to the stories
which dealt with the fate of the greater number of the heroes?
Because the poem of the Trojan War and the adventures of the Return
from Troy had not yet decided upon the fate of Menelaos, a later
poet could speak of his "translation" to the--since
"discovered"--Land of Destiny. It is highly probable that even at
the time of the composition of the Journey to Hades of Odysseus this
conception--afterwards so important for the development of the Greek
belief in immortality--of a secluded resting-place of living and
translated heroes had not yet been completely {60} formulated. It
fits easily into the framework of belief prevailing in the Homeric
poems, but it is not necessarily required by that framework. It is
natural on this account to suppose that it entered the Epic from
without. And, remembering the Babylonian story of Hasisatra and the
Hebrew one of Enoch,[18\2] both of whom without suffering death were
translated into the realm of immortal life--either to "Heaven" or to
the "End of the Rivers" to the gods--we might be inclined to follow
the fashion that prevails in some quarters nowadays, and believe
that these earliest Greek translation legends were borrowed from
Semitic tradition. Little, however, would be gained by such a
mechanical derivation. Here and in all such cases the main question
remains still unanswered: what were the reasons which led the Greek
mind to wish to borrow this particular idea at this particular time
from abroad? In the present instance at least, nothing argues
specially for the handing on of the belief in translation from one
nation to another rather than for its independent origin in the
different countries out of similar needs.
This new idea did not contradict the normal Homeric beliefs about
the soul but on the contrary presupposed them and supplemented them
without incongruity. It was also, as we have seen, based upon
conceptions that were familiar and natural to Greek thought. There
was, indeed, no need for any stimulus from without to produce from
these materials the undoubtedly new and peculiarly attractive idea
of which we receive the earliest intimation in the prophecy of
Proteus.
§ 3
The importance of this new creation for the later development of
Greek belief makes it all the more necessary to be quite clear as to
what exactly this novelty really was. Was it a Paradise for the
pious and the just? A sort of Greek Valhalla for the bravest
heroes?--or was it that a reconciliation and adjustment between
virtue and happiness such as this life never knows had revealed
itself to the eyes of hope in a Land of Promise? Nothing of the kind
is warranted by these lines. Menelaos was never particularly
remarkable for those virtues which the Homeric age rated
highest.[19\2] He is only to be transported to Elysium because he
has Helen to wife and is therefore the son-in-law of Zeus; such is
Proteus' prophecy to him. We are not told why Rhadamanthys has
reached the place of happiness; nor do we learn it through the title
by which he was referred to almost invariably by {61} later poets,
the "Just". We may, however, remind ourselves that as brother of
Minos he was also a son of Zeus.[20\2] It was not virtue or merit
that gave him a claim to blessedness after this life; indeed, of any
such claim we never find the least trace. Just as the retention of
the psyche in the body and the consequent avoidance of death can
occur only as a miracle or by magic--that is, as an exceptional
case--so does translation into the "Land of Destiny" remain a
privilege of a few special favourites of the gods. No one could
deduce from such cases any article of faith of universal
application. The nearest parallel to this miraculous preservation of
life for a few individuals in a land of blessed repose is to be
found in the equally miraculous preservation of consciousness in
those three enemies of the gods in Hades whom we hear of in the
Nekyia of the Odyssey. The Penitents in Erebos and the blessed in
Elysium correspond: both represent exceptions which do not destroy
the rule and do not affect the main outline of Homeric belief. In
the first case, as in the second, the omnipotence of Heaven has
broken through the rule. Those, however, who owe to the special
favour of the gods their escape from death and their translation to
Elysium are near relatives of the gods. This seems to be the only
reason for the favour shown to them.[21\2] If therefore any more
general reason beyond the capricious good-will of some god is to
account for the translation of these individuals it might perhaps be
found in the belief that near relationship with the gods, that is,
the very highest nobility of lineage, could preserve a man from the
descent into the common realm of hopeless nothingness after the
separation of the psyche from the body. In the same way the beliefs
of many primitive peoples represent the ordinary man as departing to
a joyless country of the dead (if he is not annihilated altogether)
while the descendants of gods and kings, or the aristocracy, go to a
land of unending happiness.[22\2] Such a fancy, however, is only
dimly apparent in the promise made to Menelaos; nowhere is anything
said of a general rule from which the individual case might be
deduced.--
§ 4
But the individuals who are admitted to an everlasting life in the
Elysian land at the end of the world are much too distantly removed
from the habitations of the living for them to be credited with the
power of influencing the world of men.[23\2] They resemble the gods
only in the enjoyment accorded to them of an unendingly conscious
life. Of the omnipotence of {62} the gods they have not the smallest
share[24\2] any more than the dwellers in Erebos, from whose fate
their own is otherwise so different. We must not suppose, therefore,
that the origin of the stories of the promotion of individual heroes
above their companions and their translation into a distant
dwelling-place, is to be sought in any _cultus_ offered to those
individuals in their previous earthly dwelling-place. Every
religious cult is the worship of something real and powerful; no
popular religion and no poet's fancy would have given the national
heroes, if they were to be regarded as powerful and worshipped
accordingly, such a distant and inaccessible home.
It was the free activity of the poetic fancy which created and
embellished this last refuge of human aspiration upon the Elysian
plain. The needs which this new creation was chiefly intended to
satisfy were poetical and not religious.
The atmosphere of the younger of the two Homeric epics already
differs widely from that of its older companion, the Iliad, with its
heroic delight in the untiring manifestation of vital energy. It is
likely that the feelings of the **conquerors of a new home upon the
Asiatic coast may have differed considerably from those of the same
people confirmed in undisturbed possession and enjoyment of their
conquests. It seems as if the Odyssey reflected the temper and
aspiration of these Ionian city-dwellers of a later time. A spirit
of contentment and leisure seems to flow like an undercurrent
through the whole poem, and has made for itself a haven of rest in
the midst of the busy action of the story. When the poet's own
feelings find their true expression they show us idyllic scenes of
quiet enjoyment of daily life; magnificent in the country of the
Phæacians, gay and more homely at the farm of Eumaios; pictures of
quiet repose after the fights of the heroic past, that have now
faded into a mere pleasant memory, such as we get in the house of
Nestor, or in the Palace of Menelaos and the regained Helen. Or,
again, we have a description of nature in a mood of liberality and
gentleness, as upon the island of Syriê, the home of Eumaios'
childhood, upon which in ample possession of cattle, wine and corn,
a people live free from necessity and pain, till they arrive at a
good old age when Apollo and Artemis with their gentlest shafts
bring swift death to them (_Od._ xv, 403 ff.). If you ask the poet
where this fortunate island lies he will tell you that it lies over
there beyond Ortygiê where the sun turns back. But where is
Ortygiê,[25\2] and who can point out the place where the sun begins
his return journey far in the West? The country of idyllic happiness
lies indeed almost beyond {63} the limit of this world. Phoenician
merchant-men who go everywhere may perhaps reach that land as well
(415 ff.), and Ionian seamen in this earliest period of Greek
colonization into which the composition of the Odyssey reaches may
well have hoped to find far out over the sea such propitious
habitations of a new life.
In the same way the country and the life of the Phæacians seem like
an ideal picture of an Ionian state newly founded in a distant land
far from the turmoil, the restless competition, and all the
limitations of their familiar Greek homes. But this unclouded
dream-picture, bathed in purest light, lies far away in a distant
land all but inaccessible to man. Only by chance is a strange ship
cast away on to that coast, and at once the magic ships of the
Phæacians carry back the stranger through night and cloud to his own
home again. True, there is no reason to see in the Phæacians a sort
of ferry-people of the dead, neighbours of the Elysian fields.
Still, the poetic fancy which invented the country of the Phæacians
is not unrelated to that which gave rise to the idea of an Elysian
plain beyond the bounds of the inhabited world. Given the idea that
a life of untroubled bliss can only be had in the remotest confines
of the earth, jealously guarded from all intrusion, only one more
step remains to be taken before men come to believe that such bliss
is really only to be found where neither accident nor purpose can
ever bring men, more remote even than the Phæacians, than the
country of the Æthiopians, the beloved of the gods, or than the
Abioi of the North, already known to the Iliad. It must lie beyond
the bounds of real life. Such idyllic longings have given rise to
the picture of Elysium. The happiness of those who there enjoy
everlasting life seemed to be fully safeguarded only if their place
of abode were removed for ever beyond the range of all exploration,
out of reach of all future discovery. This happiness is imagined as
a condition of perfect bliss under the most benignant sky; easy and
untroubled says the poet, is the life of men there, in this
resembling the life of the gods, but at the same time without
aspiration and without activity. It is doubtful whether the poet of
the Iliad would have considered such a future worthy of his heroes,
or given the name of happiness to such felicity as this.
§ 5
We were obliged to assume that the poet who inserted these
inimitably smooth, melodious verses in the Odyssey was not the first
inventor or discoverer of the Elysian paradise beyond {64} the realm
of mortality. But though he followed in the footsteps of others,
when he introduced into the Homeric poem a reference to this new
belief, he was giving this idea for the first time an enduring place
in Greek imagination. Other poems might disappear, but anything that
appeared in the Iliad or the Odyssey was assured of perpetual
remembrance.
The imagination of Greek poets or Greek people never gave up the
alluring fancy of a distant land of blessedness into which
individual mortals might by the favour of the gods be translated.
Even the scanty notices which have come down to us of the contents
of the heroic poems that led up to, continued, or connected the two
Homeric Epics and linked them up with the whole cycle of Theban and
Trojan legend enable us to see how this post-Homeric poetry took
pleasure in the recital of still further examples of translation.
The Kypria first described how the army of the Achæans for the
second time encamped in Aulis, was detained by adverse winds sent by
Artemis; and how Agamemnon on the advice of Kalchas would have
sacrificed his own daughter Iphigeneia to the goddess. Artemis,
however, snatched away the maiden and transported her to the land of
the Taurians, and there made her immortal.[26\2]
The Aithiopis, a continuation of the Iliad, tells of the help
brought to the Trojans by Penthesileia and her Amazons, and after
her death by Memnon the Æthiopian prince, an imaginary
representative of the eastern monarchies of inner Asia. Antilochos,
the new favourite of Achilles, falls in the war, but Achilles slays
Memnon himself. Thereupon Eos the mother of Memnon (and known as
such already to the Odyssey) obtains the permission of Zeus to give
immortality to her son.[27\2] It may be supposed that the poet
described what we see so often represented upon Greek vases: the
mother bearing through the air the dead body of her son. According
to the story told in the Iliad, Apollo, with the help of Sleep and
Death, the twin brothers, bore off the body of Sarpedon, the son of
Zeus, to his Lycian home after he had been slain by Achilles, merely
in order that he might be buried in his own country. But the poet of
the Aithiopis has tried to outdo the story in the Iliad in
impressiveness (for it was evidently his model),[28\2] and has made
Eos, with the permission of Zeus, not merely carry off the dead to
his far-off home in the East, but there awaken him to immortal life.
Soon after the death of Memnon fate overtakes Achilles himself. When
his body, rescued by his friends after much hard fighting, is laid
upon its bier, Thetis, his mother, with {65} the Muses and the other
sea-goddesses come and sing the funeral dirge. Of this we are told
in the last book of the Odyssey (xxiv, 47 ff.) which relates further
how his body was burnt, his bones gathered together and entombed
under a mound, and the psyche of Achilles departed to the House of
Hades; the whole story being told to him in the underworld by the
psyche of Agamemnon. But the author of the Aithiopis--always
remarkable for his bold innovations in the traditional
material--here ventures upon an important new touch. From the
funeral pyre, he tells us, Thetis carried off the body of her son
and brought him to Leuke.[29\2] That she restored him to life again
there and made him immortal the one meagre extract which accident
has preserved to us does not say. But there can be no question that
that is what the poet narrated--all later accounts conclude the
story in this way.
The parallel is clear: the two opponents, Achilles and Memnon, are
both set free from the fate of mortals by their goddess-mothers. In
bodies once more restored to life they continue to live, not among
men, nor yet among the gods, but in a distant wonderland--Memnon in
the east, Achilles in the "White Island". The poet himself can
hardly have imagined Achilles' Island to have been in the Euxine
Sea, where, however, later Greek sailors located this purely
mythical spot.
The translation of Menelaos is still more closely paralleled by the
story told in the Telegoneia, which was the final and the
latest-written of the Cyclic poems, of the fate which attended the
family of Odysseus. Telegonos, the son of Odysseus and Kirke, slays
his father unwittingly; when he discovers his mistake he brings the
body of Odysseus with Penelope and **Telemachos to his mother, Kirke,
who makes them immortal; and there they dwell now (in the Isle
Aiaia, far away over the sea, we must suppose--Penelope as the wife
of Telegonos, and Kirke with Telemachos.[30\2]
§ 6
It is natural to feel surprise that in none of these stories is
there any mention of translation to a common meeting-place of the
Elect, such as the Elysian plain seemed to be. We must on that
account be content to leave unanswered the question to what precise
extent these lines of the Odyssey which describe the translation of
Menelaos to Elysium may have influenced the development of
translation stories in the post-Homeric Epics. The influence must
clearly have been {66} considerable.[31\2] The stories of the
translation of individual heroes to a solitary after-life in
secluded abodes of immortality show, at any rate, the same direction
of fancy as that which produced the fields of Elysium. No longer
does Eos, after she has snatched him from Hades, raise her son to be
among the gods as once she had raised Kleitos and others of her
favourites. Memnon enters upon a peculiar state of being that
differentiates him from the rest of mankind as much as from the
gods. The same applies to Achilles and the other translated heroes.
Thus did poetry increase the number of those who belonged to this
middle realm; who, born in **mortality have, outside the realms of
Olympos, achieved immortality. It is still only favoured individuals
who enter this kingdom; it is still poetical aspiration, giving free
rein to its creative instinct, that continues to transport an
ever-increasing number of the bright figures of Legend into the
illumination of everlasting life. Religious worship can have had no
more influence in the development of these stories than it had in
the narrative of the translation of Menelaos. Achilles, for example,
may in later times have had a cult paid to him on an island at the
mouth of the Danube, supposed to be Leuke. But the cult was the
result and not the motive or the cause of the story. Iphigeneia was
certainly the epithet of a Moon-goddess; but the poet who told of
the translation of her namesake, the daughter of Agamemnon, had no
suspicion of the latter's identity with a goddess--otherwise he
would never have regarded her as Agamemnon's daughter. Nor, we may
be fairly certain, can it have been an accidental meeting with the
cult of the goddess Iphigeneia, which induced him to invent an
immortality _iure postlimini_ for his mortal Iphigeneia, by the
machinery of translation. Both for the poet and his contemporaries
the importance and the essence of his narrative--whether free
invention or a reconstruction out of older material--lay in the fact
that it told of the raising of a mortal maiden, the daughter of
mortal parents, to immortal life, and not to religious veneration
which could not have made itself very apparent to the maiden
relegated to the distant Tauric country.
The busy expansion of the legendary material went on in epics that
finally lost themselves in genealogical poems. To what extent it may
have made use of the _motif_ of translation or transfiguration we
can no longer accurately judge. The materials at our disposal are
quite insufficient to warrant any conclusion. When such a misty
figure as Telegonos is deemed worthy of immortality, it may be
supposed that in the mind {67} of the poet all the heroes of Epic
tradition had come to be possessed of a virtual claim to a share in
this mode of continued existence in a life after death. Certainly
the more important among them could not be left out--those at least
of whose end the Homeric poems themselves had not already given a
different version. The poem of the Return of the Heroes from Troy
may especially have given scope for many translation stories.[32\2]
We may, for example, ask whether Diomedes, at least, whose
immortality is often vouched for by later mythology, was not already
added to the number of the immortals in the epics of the Heroic
cycle. An Attic folk-song of the fifth century can speak with
assurance of Diomedes as not having died but as living in the
"Islands of the Blest". Thus a far greater company of the Heroes of
the Trojan War was thought of by the poetry of Homeric tradition as
gathered together in "Isles of the Blest", far out to sea, than we
should guess from the summaries of the post-Homeric Epics which
accident has preserved to us. This conclusion must be drawn from the
lines of a Hesiodic poem which give us some remarkable information
about the oldest Greek forms of the Cult of the Souls and belief in
immortality, and the lines, therefore, must be subjected to a closer
examination.
II
The Hesiodic poem known as the "Works and Days" consists of a number
of independent pieces of didactic or narrative interest loosely
strung together. In it, not far from the beginning, comes the story
of the Five Ages of Men. As regards its subject-matter, the train of
thought which unites this section to the passages which precede and
follow it is hardly discoverable; in form it is quite disconnected.
In the beginning we are there told the gods of Olympos created a
Golden race whose members lived like the gods, without care,
sickness or decrepitude, and in enjoyment of rich possessions. After
their death, which came upon them like sleep to tired men, they
became, by the will of Zeus, _Daimones_ and Guardians of mankind.
They were followed by a Silver race, far inferior to the first, and
unlike them in body as in mind. The men of this race had a long
childhood, lasting a hundred years, followed by a short youth,
during which their wantonness and pride in their dealings with each
other and with the gods brought them much sorrow. Because they
refused the honours due to the gods Zeus destroyed them and they are
now Daimones of the Underworld, honoured {68} but inferior to the
Daimones of the Golden Age. Zeus then created a third race, this
time of Bronze--hard-hearted and of great strength; war was their
delight, and being destroyed by their own hands they went down
unhonoured to the House of Hades. Thereupon Zeus made a fourth race
that was juster and better, the race of Heroes, who were called
"Demigods". They fought before Thebes and Troy and some of them
died, while others Zeus sent to dwell at the ends of the world on
the Islands of the Blest by the river Okeanos, where the Earth
brings them her fruits three times in the year. "Would that I did
not belong to the fifth Age; would that I had died earlier or been
born hereafter," says the poet, "since now is the Iron Age," when
toil and grief never leave men, when there is enmity of all against
all and force conquers right, and Envy, evil-tongued, delighting in
wickedness, fierce-eyed, is over everything. Now, Shame and the
goddess of retribution, Nemesis, depart from men and go to the gods;
every misfortune is left behind for man, and there is no defence
against evil.
The author here lays before us the results of gloomy reflection upon
the origin and growth of evil in the world of men. He sees the steps
of mankind's degeneration from the height of godlike happiness to
the extremes of misery and wickedness. He is following popular
conceptions. It is natural to every race of men to lay the scene of
earthly perfection in the past, so long, at least, as man gets his
information about that past not from distinct historical memory, but
from the picturesque stories and beautiful dreams of the poets which
encourage the natural tendency of fancy to retain only the more
attractive features of the past in the memory. The folk-lore of many
lands can tell of a Golden Age and how mankind gradually fell from
that high estate; and it is not at all surprising if fanciful
speculation starting from the same point and travelling along the
same road has reached the same conclusion in the case of more than
one people without the aid of any historical connexion. We have a
number of expressions of the idea of man's gradual degeneration
through several Ages which present the most striking similarities
among themselves and with the Hesiodic picture of the five Ages of
Men. Even Homer is sometimes overcome by the mood; it lies, for
instance, at the root of such idealizations of the past as are
implied when in his description of the heroic life he thinks of "men
as they now are" and "how few sons are equal to their fathers in
virtue; worse, most of them; few, indeed, are the men who are better
than their fathers" {69} (_Od._ ii, 276 f.). But the epic poet keeps
himself and his fancy on the heights of the heroic Past; only
occasionally, and in passing, his glance falls upon the commonplace
level of real life. But the poet of the "Works and Days" has all his
thoughts fixed upon the level plain of real and contemporary life;
the glance which he occasionally casts upon the heights of the
storied past is all the more bitter on that account.
What he has to say of the first condition of mankind and the gradual
process of deterioration is given, not as an abstract exposition of
what in the necessary course of things must have occurred, but
rather as a traditional account of what had actually happened--in
fact, as history.
In this light he himself must certainly have regarded it, though,
apart from a few vague memories, no historical tradition is
contained in what he says of the nature and deeds of the earlier
generations of mankind. His story remains an imaginary picture. And
for this reason the development, as he presents it, takes a
logically defined and regulated course, based on the idea of a
gradual deterioration. The uneventful happiness of the first race of
men who know neither virtue nor vice is followed by a second race,
which after a prolonged minority displays pride and contempt of the
gods. In the third, or brazen age, active wickedness breaks out,
with war and murder. The last age, at the beginning of which the
poet himself seems to stand, marks the breakdown of all moral
restraint. The fourth race of men, to which the heroes of the Theban
and Trojan wars belong, is alone among all the others in not being
named and ranked after a metal. It is an alien in the evolutionary
process. The downward course is checked during the fourth age, and
yet in the fifth it goes on again as if it had never been
interrupted. It is not apparent why that course should have been
interrupted. Most of the commentators have recognized in the story
of the fourth age a fragment of different material, originally
foreign to the poem of the Ages of Men and added deliberately by
Hesiod to this poem, which he may have taken over in its essential
features from older poets. But if we adopt this view we have to ask
what can have tempted the poet to such serious disturbance and
dislocation of the orderly succession of the original speculative
poem. It will not be enough to say that the poet, brought up in the
Homeric tradition, found it impossible to pass over, in a
description of the earlier ages of men, the figures of the heroic
poetry which, thanks to the power of song, had acquired in the
imagination of the Greeks more reality than the plainest
manifestations of actual life. Nor {70} is it likely that, having in
his grim description of the Bronze race introduced a darker picture
of the Heroic age, drawn from a point of view different from that of
the courtly Epos, he wished to set by its side this bright vision of
the same age as he saw it in his own mind. If the picture of the
Bronze race does really refer to the Heroic age,[33\2] giving its
reverse side, so to speak, Hesiod never seems to have noticed the
fact. He must have had stronger grounds than these for the
introduction of his narrative. He cannot have failed to perceive
that he was breaking the continuity of moral deterioration by his
introduction of the Heroic race. It follows that he must have had
some aim, other than that of the description of the moral
deterioration of men, which he imagined himself to be serving by the
introduction of this new section. This other purpose will become
plain if we inquire what it is that really interests the poet in the
Heroic race. It is not their higher morality--that only interrupted
the series of continually worsening generations. Nor would he in
that case have dismissed the subject with a few words which barely
suffice to connect this section with the theme of moral development.
Further, it is not the fights and great deeds done at Thebes or Troy
that interest him for he says nothing of their greatness, and at
once declares that the cruel war and the dread fury of battle
destroyed the Heroes. This, again, does not discriminate between the
Heroes and the men of the Bronze age who also, being destroyed by
their own deeds, had to go down to Hades. What distinguishes the
Heroic age from the others is the way in which some of the Heroes
depart from this life without dying. This is the point that
interests the poet, and this it must have been that chiefly induced
him to bring in here his account of the fourth race of men. He
combines clearly enough with his main purpose of describing the
advancing moral decline of man, a secondary aim--that of telling
what happened after death to the representatives of each successive
race. In introducing the Heroic race of men this secondary aim
becomes the chief one, and justifies what would otherwise have been
merely an intrusive episode. It is this aim, too, which gives the
Hesiodic narrative its importance for our present inquiry.
§ 2
The men of the Golden Age, after sleep has overcome them and they
have died and been laid in the earth, become by the will of Zeus
"Daimones"--Daimones upon earth, watchers of men, wandering over all
the earth, veiled in clouds, {71} observing justice and
injustice,[34\2] dispensing riches like kings. These men of the
earliest times have then become effective realities. They are not
spirits confined to an inaccessible region beyond this world, but
powers acting and working amongst men. In this exalted state Hesiod
calls them _Daimones_, and thus describes them by a name which is
otherwise applied by him as well as by Homer only to the immortal
gods. The name so employed is not to be understood as implying a
separate class of immortals, an intermediate class of beings between
gods and men, as later speculation used the word.[35\2] These later
beings of an intermediate class were thought of as possessing an
originally immortal nature like the gods, and as dwelling in an
intermediate region of their own. Hesiod's Daimones, on the
contrary, have once been men and have only after their death become
immortals invisibly[36\2] roaming the earth. When they are given the
name Daimones nothing more is implied than that they now share the
invisible might and unending life of the gods, and to that extent
may be called gods--with as much right as Ino Leukothea, for
instance, who, according to Homer, became a goddess after being a
mortal; or as Phaëthon, who, according to the Hesiodic Theogony, was
raised by Aphrodite from the world of mortality and is now called a
"godlike Daimon" (_Th._, 991). On the other hand, these immortals
who were once men are clearly distinguished from the everlasting
gods, "who have their Olympian dwellings," by being called Daimones
"who rule upon earth".[37\2] And though they are given the name,
familiar to everybody from Homer, of Daimones, i.e. gods, they,
nevertheless, form a class of beings which is entirely unknown to
Homer. Homer knows of certain individual men who are raised or
translated, body and soul together, to undying life. The later Epos
can tell of certain also who, like Memnon or Achilles, receive a new
life after their death and now live on in undivided unity of body
and soul. But that the soul outside Erebos could carry on a
conscious life of its own and influence living men--of this there is
no mention in Homer. Yet this is exactly what has happened according
to the Hesiodic poem. The men of the Golden Age have died and now
live on divided from their bodies, invisible and godlike, and
therefore called gods. Just as in Homer, the gods themselves assume
manifold shapes and visit the cities of men, observing the good and
evil deeds of men,[38\2] so also do the souls of the dead in Hesiod.
For the beings who here, after their separation from the body, have
become Daimones, are _Souls_--that is to say, beings who after their
{72} death have entered in any case upon a higher existence than was
theirs while they were united to the body. This, however, is an idea
that we never meet with in the Homeric poems.
And yet it is quite unthinkable that this remarkable conception is
the independent and passing invention of the Boeotian poet. He comes
back to it again later on in the course of his poem. "Thirty
thousand," that is, innumerable immortal Watchers over mortal men
wander invisibly in the service of Zeus over the earth, taking note
of right and wrong (_Op._, 252 ff.). The conception is important to
him for ethical reasons; if he is to make use of it in his argument
he must not have invented it himself. And, in fact, nothing that
belongs to the sphere of religious belief and cultus, or even the
lower levels of superstition, has been invented by this
earnest-minded poet. The Boeotian school of poetry to which he
belonged was far removed from, and indeed, hostile to the free
inventiveness and roaming fancy with which the Homeric school ". . .
know how to put forward many lies and make them seem like truth"
(_Th._, 27). In pursuance of their purpose not simply to please but
always in some sense to teach, the Boeotian poets never innovate in
the region of the purely mythical, but simply order or piece
together, or merely register what they find in the tradition. In
religion especially invention lies farthest from their minds, though
they do not by any means deny themselves the right of independent
speculation about the traditional. Thus, what Hesiod tells us about
the men of a previous age, whose souls after death become Daimones,
came to him from tradition. It might still be objected that this
tradition while being older than Hesiod may, nevertheless, be more
recent than Homer, and be the result of post-Homeric speculation. It
is unnecessary to develop the reasons which make such a view
untenable; the course of our inquiry up to the present has made it
possible for us to maintain decidedly that in what Hesiod here says
we have a fragment of primitive belief reaching back far beyond
Homer and surviving in the secluded Boeotian countryside. We have
found even in the poems of Homer vestiges of a cult of the dead
sufficient to make us believe that once in a distant past the Greeks
resembled the majority of other nations and believed in the
continued, conscious existence of the psyche after its separation
from the body and in its powerful influence upon the world of men.
We found, too, that in accordance with this belief, religious
honours of various sorts were paid to the disembodied souls. In
Hesiod's narrative we simply have documentary confirmation of {73}
what could only be with difficulty extracted from the study of
Homer. Here we encounter the still living belief in the elevation of
the soul after death to a higher life. They are the souls, it must
be noted, of a race of men long since disappeared, about whom this
belief is held. The belief in their godlike after-life must
therefore be long-standing, and the worship of these souls as
powerful beings still continues. For when it is said of the souls of
the second race "these also receive worship"[39\2] (_Op._, 142), it
is distinctly implied that the Daimones of the first or Golden
generation _a fortiori_ received worship.
The men of the Silver generation, on account of their refusal to pay
due honour to the Olympians, are "hidden" by Zeus under the earth,
and are now called "mortal Blessed Ones that live below the earth,
second in rank, yet worship is paid to them also" (141-2). Thus, the
poet knows of the souls of men who likewise belonged to the distant
past, whose home is in the bowels of the earth, who receive
religious honour and who must therefore have been conceived as
powerful. The poet has not specified the nature of their influence
upon the upper world. It is true that he does not distinctly call
the spirits of this second generation "good", as he had done the
first (122), and he makes them spring from the less perfect Silver
age and seems to have given them inferior rank. But it does not
follow that he here anticipated later speculation and thought of the
second generation as a class of wicked demons whose nature it is to
work evil.[40\2] Only to the Olympians do they seem to stand in a
rather more distant relationship--almost one of hostility. They had
before paid the gods none of their pious dues, and so now they are
not called, like the souls of the first race, "Daimones appointed by
Zeus to be Watchers of men." The poet refers to them with a
remarkable expression, "mortal Blessed Ones," that is, mortal gods.
This very singular denomination, the two parts of which really
cancel one another, points to a certain embarrassment felt by the
poet in making use of an expression taken from the Homeric
vocabulary (to which the poet felt himself confined) to designate
clearly and effectively a class of beings that was unknown to
Homer.[41\2] The disembodied souls of the first race he had simply
called Daimones. But this name, common as it was both to the race of
those who from mortality had achieved immortality and to the
immortal gods, left the essential difference between the two classes
of immortal beings unexpressed. For that very reason the name was
never employed in Hesiod's fashion by later ages,[42\2] who always
{74} called such as, not having been born immortal, had achieved
immortality, by the name of "Heroes". Hesiod, who could not use the
word in this sense, described them by the bold oxymoron: mortal
Blessed Ones, human gods. As immortal spirits they resembled the
gods in their new state of being. But their nature was still mortal,
and hence their bodies had to die, and this constituted their
difference from the everlasting gods.[43\2]
The name Daimones then does not appear to involve any essential
distinction between the spirits of the men of the Silver generation
and the Daimones of the Golden Age. Only the place where the two
classes of spirits have their dwelling is different--the Daimones of
the Silver race live in the depths of the earth. The expression "of
the underworld", used of them, is a vague one, and only suffices to
differentiate them from the spirits of the "upper world" who were
derived from the first race. Still, the abode of the souls of the
Silver Age is in any case not thought of as being the distant
meeting-place of the unconscious, vegetating shadow-souls--the House
of Hades; the "phantoms" that hover about that place could not have
been called Daimones or "mortal gods", nor do they receive any kind
of worship after their death.
§ 3
The Silver Age, then, belongs to a long-since vanished past.[44\2]
The stalwarts of the Bronze Age, we are told, destroyed by their
deeds, went down into the gloomy home of the dreadful Hades,
nameless. Black Death seized them, for all their violence, and they
left the light of the sun.
Except for the addition of the adjective "nameless" one might,
indeed, suppose that this was a description of the fate of the souls
of the Homeric heroes. Perhaps, however, the word[45\2] only means
that no honourable and distinctive title, such as belonged to the
souls of the first and second as well as to the fourth race, was
attached to those who had gone down into the shadow-world of
annihilation and become as nothing.
There follows "the divine race of Heroes who were called the
Demigods". The wars at Thebes and Troy destroyed these. Part were
"enfolded in the destiny of Death"; others received life and a home
far from men at the hand of Zeus Kronides, who gave them a
dwelling-place at the ends of the world. There they live, free from
care, in the Islands of the Blest, by the deep-flowing Okeanos;
favoured Heroes, for whom the Earth, of her own accord, brings forth
her sweet fruits three times a year. {75}
Here, at last, for the first time we have reached a clearly
definable period of legendary history. The poet means to speak of
the Heroes whose adventures were narrated in the Thebais, the Iliad
and kindred poems. What we notice here specially is how little the
Greeks yet knew of their history. Immediately after the
disappearance of the Heroes the poet begins the age in which he
himself must live. Where the realm of poetry ends, there is an end
of all further tradition; there follows a blank, and to all
appearances the present age immediately begins. That explains why
the Heroic Age is the last before the fifth, to which the poet
himself belongs, and why it does not, for example, precede the
(undated) Bronze Age. It connects itself conveniently with the
Bronze Age also in what is related of the fate suffered by a part of
its representatives, for the subject which here particularly
interests the poet is the fate of the departed. Some of the fallen
Heroes simply die--that is to say (there can be no doubt of it) they
enter the realm of Hades like the members of the Bronze race or the
Heroes of the Iliad. But when others are _distinguished_ from those
whom "Death took" in that they reach the Islands of the Blest, it is
impossible not to suppose that these last have not suffered death,
that is, the separation of the Psyche from the visible Self, but
have been carried away alive in the flesh. The poet is thinking of
such cases as those we have met with in the Odyssean narrative of
Menelaos, or, in the Telegoneia, of Penelope, Telemachos and
Telegonos. These few exceptional instances could hardly have made
such a deep impression on him that he felt himself bound on their
behalf to erect a special class of the Translated to be set over
against those who simply died. There can be no doubt that he had
many more examples before him of this same mysterious mode of
separation from the world of men that did not involve death. We have
already seen how the lines in the Odyssey in which the translation
of Menelaos is foreshadowed, point back to other and earlier poems
of the same kind. Further, the references to the subject which we
found in the remains of the Cyclic Epics make it easy to suppose
that later Heroic poetry had been continually widening the circle of
those who enjoyed translation and illumination.
Only from such a poetical source can Hesiod have derived his
conception of a common meeting-place where the Translated enjoy for
ever their untroubled existence. He calls that place the "Islands of
the Blest"; and these lie far removed from the world of men, in the
Ocean, on the confines of the earth, just where the Odyssey puts the
Elysian {76} plain, another meeting-place of the still-living
Translated, or rather the same under a different name. Its name does
not oblige us to regard the "Elysian plain" as an island, but
neither does it exclude that assumption. Homer never expressly calls
the land of the Phæacians an island,[46\2] but the imagination of
most readers will picture Scheriê as such, and so did the Greeks
perhaps already at the time of the Hesiodic school of poets. In the
same way a poet may have thought of the "Land of Destiny" that
receives passing mention in Homer as an island, or group of islands;
only an island surrounded and cut off by the sea can give the full
impression of a distant asylum far from the world, inaccessible to
all save those specially called thither. And accordingly the
mythology of many peoples, especially those who live by the sea, has
made a distant island the dwelling-place of the souls of the
departed.
Complete isolation is the essential feature of the whole idea of
translation, as Hesiod clearly shows. A later poet has added a
line--which does not quite fit into its place--to make this
isolation even more marked.[47\2] According to it, these Blessed
Ones live not only "far from men" (167), but also (169) far from the
immortals, and are ruled over by Kronos. The writer of this line
follows a beautiful legend, later, however, than Hesiod, in which
Zeus released the aged Kronos, together with the other Titans,[48\2]
from Tartaros, so that the old king of the gods, under whose rule
the Golden Age had once prevailed with peace and happiness upon
earth, now wields the sceptre of another Golden Age over the Blessed
in Elysium, himself a figure of peaceful contemplation dwelling far
away from the stormy world, from the throne of which he has been
ousted by Zeus. Hesiod himself has provoked this transference of
Kronos from the Golden Age to the land of the Translated; for in the
few lines that he devotes to the description of the life of the
Blessed a reminiscence of the picture of the Golden Age's untroubled
existence is clearly discernible. Both pictures, the one of a
childhood's paradise in the past, the other of unclouded happiness
reserved in the future for the elect, are closely related; it is
difficult to say which of them has influenced the other[49\2] since
the colours must have been the same in any case--the purely idyllic
having an inevitable uniformity of its own.
§ 4
Hesiod says nothing of any influence upon this world exerted by the
souls of the Translated in the Islands of the Blest, such as is
attributed to the Daimones of the Golden {77} race, nor of any
religious worship, which would be implied by such influence if it
existed, such as the underworld spirits of the Silver Age receive.
All relations with this world are broken off, for any influence from
this side would completely contradict the whole conception of these
blessed departed. Hesiod faithfully sets down the conception of the
Translated exactly as poetic fancy, without any interference from
religious cultus, or the folk-belief founded on it, had
instinctively shaped it.
Supposing, then, that he follows Homeric and post-Homeric poetic
tradition in this particular, whence did he derive his ideas about
the Daimones and spirits of the Golden and Silver Ages? He did not
and could not have got these from Homeric or semi-Homeric sources,
for they (unlike the idea of Translation) do not simply expand, but
actually contradict Homeric beliefs about the soul. To this question
we may answer with certainty; he derived them from _cultus_. There
survived, in spite of Homer, at least in central Greece where the
Hesiodic poetry had its home, a religious worship paid to the souls
of certain departed classes of men; and this cultus preserved alive,
at least as a vague tradition, a belief which Homer had obscured and
dispossessed. It only reached the Boeotian poet, whose own
conceptions spring entirely from the soil of Homeric belief, as from
a far distance. Already in the days of the Bronze race, he tells us,
the souls of the dead were swallowed up in the dread House of Hades,
and this (with a few miraculous exceptions) applies to the Heroic
race as well. And for the poet, standing as he does, at the opening
of the Iron Age, to which he himself belongs, nothing remains but
dissolution in the nothingness of Erebos. That such is his view is
proved by his silence about the fate after death of his
generation--a silence that is all the more oppressive because the
grim picture that he gives of the misery and ever-increasing
depravity of real and contemporary life might seem to require a
brighter and more hopeful picture of future compensation, if only to
balance it and make it endurable. But he is silent about all such
future compensation; he has no such hope to offer. Though in another
part of the same poem Hope alone of all the blessings of an earlier
and better age still remains among men, such Hope no longer
illuminates the next world, at any rate, with its beams. The poet,
more deeply distressed by the common realities of life, can by no
means dispense so easily as the singers of the epic tradition
enclosed in the magic circle of their poetry, with such hopes of the
future. He can draw comfort only from what poetry {78} or religious
myth tell him of the far distant past. It never enters his head to
believe that the miracle of the translation of living men could
transcend the limits of the Heroic Age and repeat itself in the
common and prosaic present day. And the time when, according to a
law of nature no longer (so it seems) in operation, the souls of the
dead became Daimones and lived a higher life upon and beneath the
earth, is situated far back in the distant past. Another law rules
now; the men of to-day may still worship the immortal spirits of the
Golden and the Silver Age, but they themselves will never be added
to the number of those illuminated and exalted souls.
§ 5
Hesiod's description, then, of the five Ages of Men gives us the
most important information about the development of Greek belief in
the soul. What he tells us of the spirits of the Silver and Golden
race shows that from the earliest dawn of history down to the actual
lifetime of the poet, a form of _ancestor-worship_ had prevailed,
based upon the once living belief in the elevation of disembodied
and immaterial souls to the rank of powerful, consciously active
spirits. But the company of these spirits receives no additions from
the life of the present day. For centuries now the souls of the dead
have been claimed by Hades and his vain shadow world. The worship of
the soul is stationary; it affects only the souls of the long-since
departed; it no longer increases the number of the objects of its
worship. In other words, the belief has changed; the Homeric poems
have triumphed and the view they held, and to which they gave
authority, and, as it were, official sanction, now prevails. They
teach men that the psyche once separated from the body loses all its
powers and consciousness; the strengthless shadows are received into
a distant Underworld. For them, no action, no influence upon the
world of men is possible, and therefore no cult can be paid to them.
Only on the farthest horizon faintly appear the Islands of the
Blest, but the circle of the fortunate, who, according to the
visionary fancy of the poets, are translated alive there, is now
closed, just as the circle of epic story is complete also. Such
miracles no longer happen.
Nothing in this evolutionary process so clearly depicted in the poem
of Hesiod contradicts what we have learned from Homer. One thing
only is new and immensely important; in spite of everything the
memory survives that once the souls of departed generations of men
had achieved a higher, {79} undying life. Hesiod speaks in the
present tense of their being and working and of the worship paid to
them after their death; if they are believed to be immortal, men
will naturally continue to worship them. And the opposite also is
true; if the worship of such spirits had not survived into the
present, no one would have held them to be deathless and eternally
potent.
In a word, we are in the old Greek mainland, the land of Boeotian
peasants and urban farmers, among a stay-at-home race which neither
knows nor desires to know of the seafaring life that tempts men to
foreign lands whence they bring back so much that is new and
strange. Here in the central uplands vestiges of ancient custom and
belief remained that had been forgotten in the maritime cities of
new Greece on the Asiatic coast. Even here, however, the new
learning had penetrated to this extent: the structure of ancient
belief, transported into the distant past, interwoven with fanciful
tales of the earliest state of mankind, like the expiring echo of
half-forgotten song lives on only in memory. But the cult of Souls,
is not yet quite dead; the possibility remains that it may yet renew
its strength and expand into fresh life when once the magic
influence of the Homeric view of the world shall have been broken.
NOTES TO CHAPTER II
[1\2: It is not for nothing that what is here said of the "climate",
if one may so call it, of the Elysian plain, ~d~ 566-8, reminds us
so strikingly of the description of the abode of the Gods on
Olympos, ~z~ 43-5.]
[2\2: The announcement of the fate of Menelaos is quite superfluous;
it is not necessitated (and not even justified) by his first request
(468 ff.), or by his further questions (486 ff.; 551 ff.). Nitzsch
already regarded the lines 561-8 as a later addition: _Anm. z. Od._
iii, p. 352--though indeed on grounds that I cannot regard as
conclusive. Others have done the same since.]
[3\2: The following are made invisible (by envelopment in a cloud)
and carried away--this, though not always stated, is most probably
to be understood in most cases: Paris, by Aphrodite, ~G~ 380 ff.;
Aeneas, by Apollo, ~E~ 344 f.; Idaios, son of Dares, the priest of
Hephaistos, by Heph., ~E~ 23; Hektor, by Apollo, ~U~ 443 f.; Aeneas,
by Poseidon, ~U~ 325 ff.; Agenor, by Apollo, ~Ph~ 596 ff.--this last
appears to be the original copied twice over in the story of this
one day of fighting by later poets (in the above-mentioned cases of
the use of the motif, ~U~ 325 ff.; 443 f.). It is remarkable (for no
special reason for it suggests itself) that all these cases of
translation are found on the _Trojan_ side. Otherwise we only have
one instance (and that only in the narrative of a long past
adventure, the translation of the Anaktoriones by their father
Poseidon, ~L~ 750 ff. Lastly, a case that hardly goes beyond those
already mentioned: Zeus could have translated alive his son Sarpedon
out of the fray and placed him in his Lykian home (~P~ 436), but
refrains owing to the warning of Hera (440 ff.).]
[4\2: The wish to die quickly is expressly _contrasted_ with the
wish to be carried off by the Harpies, 63 ~ê\ e/peita~--"or if not,"
i.e. if quick death is denied to me. (v. _Rh. Mus._ 50, 2, 2.) Again
79-80: ~hôs e/m' _aïstô/seian_ Olu/mpia dô/mat' e/chontes êe/ m'
eüplo/kamos ba/loi A/rtemis~. Thus the Harpies (= ~thu/ella~ 63) in
this case do not bring death but carry away men alive (~anarpa/xasa
oi/choito~ 63 f., ~ha/rpuiai anêrei/psanto~ 77 = ~ane/lonto
thu/ellai~ 66, and they carry them off ~kat' êero/enta ke/leutha~ 64
to the ~prochoai\ apsorro/ou Ôkeanoi=o~ 65 ~e/dosan stugerê=|sin
Erinu/sin amphipoleu/ein~ 78). At the "mouths of Okeanos" (where it
goes into the sea is the entrance to the world of the dead; ~k~ 508
ff., ~l~ 13 ff. To be carried off by the storm-spirits used
proverbially as a wish: ~Z~ 345 ff. ~hô=s m' o/phel' ê/mati tô=|
ho/te me prô=ton te/ke mê/têr oi/chesthai prophe/rousa kakê\
ane/moio _thu/ella_ eis o/ros ê\ eis ku=ma poluphloi/sboio
thala/ssês~ (i.e. to some solitary place, Orph., _H._ 19, 19; 36,
16; 71, 11). Such transportation through the air is elsewhere
contrasted with death and dwelling in Hades, as in Penelope's
prayer. (Roscher, _Kynanthropie_ [Abh. d. sächs. Ges. d. Wiss.
xvii], p. 67, gives a strange but hardly the correct explanation of
this.) Cf. Soph., _Tr._, 953 ff.; _Ai._, 1193 ff.; (_Phil._, 1092
ff.?); cf. also Eur., _Hipp._, 1279 ff.; _Ion_, 805 f.; _Supp._,
833-6. A deeply rooted popular mode of thought, and one of primeval
antiquity, lies at the root of all {81} these instances.--~hupo\
pneuma/tôn sunarpage/nta a/phanton gene/sthai~ is a reason for
~timai\ atha/natoi~, in the only half-rationalized story of Hesperos
in D.S. 3, 60, 3.]
[5\2: One would like to know more of this strange story, but what we
learn elsewhere of Pandareos and his daughters (Sch. ~u~ 66-7; ~t~
518; Ant. Lib. 36) contributes nothing to the understanding of the
Homeric narrative and probably belongs in part to another connexion.
Pandareos, father of Aëdon (~t~ 518 ff.), seems to be another
person. Even the strange representation of the two daughters of
Pandareos in Polygnotos' picture of the underworld (Paus. 10, 30, 2)
casts no light on the Homeric fable. (Cf. Roscher, _Kynan._, 4 ff.,
65 f.)]
[6\2: The Erinyes live normally in Erebos, as is shown esp. by ~I~
571 f.; ~T~ 259. But when they punish during the lifetime of the
criminal acts done in contravention of the laws of family life, it
must be supposed that they were sometimes thought of as going about
the earth, e.g. ~I~ 454: ~l~ 278--for "working at a distance" seems
impossible--as in Hes., Op., 803 f.--~Erinu/sin amphipoleu/ein~ (78)
cannot be anything but "serve the Erinyes", "become their
~amphi/poloi~". To understand it as Roscher does (_Kynan._, 65, n.
183) following Eustathius, in the sense "fly about in the train of
the E." is forbidden by the use of the simple dative ~Erinu/si~
joined closely with ~amph.~ (~theai=s amphipolô=n~ Soph., _O.C._,
680, is different.)]
[7\2: "When the Bride of the Wind comes by you must throw yourself
on the ground as though it were the Muodisheere (on which see Grimm
(E.T.), p. 931) otherwise they will carry you off." Birlinger,
_Volksthüml. a. Schwaben_, i, 192, "She is the Devil's Bride," ib.
(On the "Bride of the Wind", etc., see Grimm, pp. 632, 1009.) Such
wind-spirits are in unholy alliance with the "Furious Host", i.e.
the unquiet "souls" of the dead that travel through the air by
night.]
[8\2: On the Harpies, see _Rh. Mus._, 50, 1-5.]
[9\2: See Nägelsb., _H.T._, pp. 42-3, and Roscher, _Nektar u.
Ambrosia_, p. 51 ff., answering Bergk's objections, _Opusc._ ii,
669. (Arist. _Meta._, 1000a, 9-14, is very definite.)]
[10\2: It is not improbable that this Ino Leukothea was originally a
goddess who was later turned into a "Heroine" (identified with the
daughter of Kadmos for reasons no longer recoverable and only
afterwards turned back again into a goddess. But for the Homeric age
she was essentially a mortal who had _become_ a goddess: for this
reason, just because she was an example of such deification of
mortals, she remained an interesting character to later writers; cf.
in addition to the well-known passages in Pindar, etc., Cic., _T.D._
i, 28. Only what the actual conception of the people and their poets
was--not what may possibly be suggested as the doubtful background
of such conceptions--concerns me in this as in many other cases.]
[11\2: Only temporary translation (~anê/rpase~) of Marpessa by
Apollo ~I~ 564.]
[12\2: Ganymedes, ~anê/rpase the/spis _a/ella_~, _h. Ven._, 208, as
the ~thu/ella~ (= ~Ha/rpuia~) did the daughters of Pandareos. The
eagle is the addition of later poetry.]
[13\2: ~L~ 1; ~e~ 1.]
[14\2: ~Êô\s . . . ap' Ôkeanoi=o rhoa/ôn ô/rnuth', hi/n'
athana/toisi pho/ôs phe/roi êde\ brotoi=sin~, ~T~ 1 f.: cf. ~ps~ 244
(_h. Merc._, 184 f.). So also _h. Ven._, 224 ff., says of Tithonos:
~Êoi= terpo/menos chrusothro/nô| êrigenei/ê| nai=e par' Ôkeanoi=o
rhoê=|s epi\ pei/rasi gai/ês~, in good Homeric style. It seems that
the magic island Aiaia was considered the home of Eos (and of
Tithonos): ~m~ 3: ~nê=so/n t' Aiai/ên, ho/thi t' Êou=s êrigenei/ês
{82} oiki/a kai\ choroi/ eisi antolai\ êeli/oio~. I need not here go
into the attempts made even in antiquity to explain the
much-discussed difficulty introduced by this verse and to bring it
into conformity with the westerly situation of Aiaia implied in the
rest of the Odyssey. One thing is certain: the first composer of
this verse thought of Aiaia as lying towards the east. Only the last
resources of the commentator's art could situate the place of the
"sun's uprising" and the "dwelling of the Dawn" in the west.]
[15\2: Among innumerable unsuccessful attempts made by the ancients
at finding an etymological derivation for the word ~Êlu/sion~ (Sch.,
~d~ 563, Eust., p. 1509, Hesych., s.v., etc., also Cels. ap. Orig.,
_Cels._ vii, 28, p. 53 L.) occurs also the right one, _E.M._, 428,
36: ~para\ tê\n e/leusin, e/ntha hoi eusebei=s paragi/nontai~. The
grammarians seem to have disputed over the question, did Menelaos
live for ever in Elysion? It was agreed on all hands that he reached
that abode alive, without separation of psyche from body; but the
over-subtle thought that the prophecy meant that he too should die
there though not in Argos--not that he should never die at all: so
esp. _E. Gud._, 242, 2 ff. This was the opinion also of those who
derived ~Êlu/sion~ from the fact that there the ~psuchai\
_lelume/nai_ tô=n sôma/tôn dia/gousi~: Eust., 1509, 29, _E.M._, etc.
The etymology is as bad as the interpretation of the line. The line
remained, however, throughout antiquity as a curiosity; intelligent
readers understood the prophecy quite rightly as referring to the
translation of Menelaos to everlasting life without separation of
~psuchê/~ from body; e.g. Porph. ap. Stob., _Ecl._ i, p. 422, 8 ff.,
W. So, too, those who gave the right interpretation of fact, but
rested it upon the more dubious etymology: ~Êlu/sion oulu/sion,
ho/ti ou dialu/ontai apo\ tô=n sôma/tôn hai psuchai/~. Hesych. (cf.
_E.M._, 428, 34-5; Sch., ~d~ 563; Procl. on Hes., _Op._, 169).]
[16\2: ~ou mê\n phai/netai/ ge (ho poiêtê/s) proagagô\n to\n lo/gon
es ple/on hôs heu/rêma a/n tis oikei=on, prosapsa/menos de\ autou=
mo/non ha/te es ha/pan ê/dê diabeboême/nou to\ Hellêniko/n~--to
adopt the words that Pausanias (10, 31, 4) uses of a similar case.]
[17\2: The reasons for the special favour shown to Rhadamanthys are
as unknown to us as they evidently were to the Greeks of later
times. What is generally said of the "justice" of Rhad. rests upon
private opinion only and does not supply the place of the precise
legend that should have justified his translation. That he once had
a complete legend of his own may be guessed from the allusion to him
in ~ê~ 323, though that passage still leaves us quite in the dark.
At any rate, it certainly does not follow from that reference that
while dwelling in Elysion he was a neighbour of the Phaeacians as
Welcker thinks: nor further that he had always been a dweller in
Elysion, as Preller supposes, instead of being transported there.
Nothing in the former passage justifies us in regarding him as then
dwelling in Elysion; while the other reference to him must be
supposed to mean that Rhad. just as much as Menelaos, was translated
to Elys. (and so e.g. Paus. understood the poet 8, 53, 5: ~pro/teron
de\ e/ti Rhada/manthun entau=tha hê/kein~; doubtful: Aesch. _fr._
99, 12-13). In fact, we have lost the legends which gave the details
of his translation: his figure had become isolated and had not
entered into the greater circle of epic figures--and as a
consequence his mythical context soon disappeared too.]
[18\2: Hasisatra's _Translation_: see the translation of the
Babylonian account in Paul Haupt's _Der Keilins. Sintfluthber._
(Leip. 1881), p. 17, 18. The expressions used by the Greek-writing
reporters are exactly like those common in Greek accounts of
translation: ~gene/sthai aphanê= {83} (to\n Xi/southron) meta\ tô=n
theô=n oikê/sonta~, Beros. ap. Sync., p. 55, 6, 11 Di.; ~theoi/ min
ex anthrô/pôn aphani/zousi~, Abydenus ap. Syncell., p. 70, 13. Of
Enoch we read, Gen. 5^24: ~ouch heuri/sketo ho/ti mete/thêken auto\n
ho theo/s (metete/thê~, Ecclus., 44^16; Hebr. 11^5); ~anelê/phthê
apo\ tê=s gê=s~, Ecclus. 49^14; ~anechô/rêse pro\s to\ thei=on~,
Jos., _AJ._ i, 3, 4 (of Moses: ~aphani/zetai~, Jos., _AJ._ iv, 8,
48). On the translation of Enoch and Elijah, see also Schwally, _D.
Leben. nach d. Tode n. d. Vorst. d. a. Israel_ (1892), p. 140.
Translation of the living into Sheol often in the O.T., see
Schwally, p. 62. Even Enoch has not escaped the fate of being
regarded by comparative mythologists as the sun. Enoch may be given
up to them, if the Orientalists have no objection; but it seems a
pity that the theory, in accordance with the favourite argument from
analogy, should be applied to Greek Translation-myths too, so that
we should see the whole series of such figures, from Menelaos to
Apollonios of Tyana, transformed by magic into mythological suns (or
dawns, water-meadows, thunder-clouds, etc.).]
[19\2: ~malthako\s aichmêtê/s~, ~R~ 588.]
[20\2: ~X~ 321-2.]
[21\2: One might even suspect that Menelaos is translated to
everlasting life not merely because he has Helen, Zeus' daughter, to
wife: ~hou/nek' e/cheis Hele/nên~ as Proteus tells him, but in
_imitation_ of a much earlier mythical tradition, according to which
Helen herself was translated and made immortal. No ancient tradition
reports the _death_ of Helen--with the exception of the absurd
invention of Ptolemaios Chennos (Phot. _Bibl._, p. 149_a_, 37 Bk.;
42; 149_b_, 1 ff.) and the not very superior aetiological myth in
Paus. 3, 19, 10. On the other hand, we often hear of her
deification, living on the island Leuke or else in the Islands of
the Blest. It was not unnatural that mythological tradition should
have at an early period set free the most "daemonic" of women from
the usual fate of mankind and that Menelaos should rather have
followed her example than she his (as Isoc. 10, 62, definitely
says).]
[22\2: Cf. Tylor, ii, 85: J. G. Müller, _Ges. d. Americ. Urrelig._,
660 f.; Waitz, _Anthrop._ v, 2, 114; vi, 302, 307.]
[23\2: We are told that Rhadamanthys was once conveyed by the
Phaeacians to Euboea ~epopso/menos Tituo\n Gaiê/ïon huio/n~ (~ê~ 321
ff.). We have no grounds and no right to complete this story by
supposing that this was when Rh. already lived in Elysion. To regard
the Phaeacians as a sort of "ferry-folk of the dead" connected in
some way with Elysion is pure unsupported fancy.]
[24\2: The possessor of ~athanasi/a~ did not necessarily possess
also ~du/namin iso/theon~ (Isoc. 10, 61).]
[25\2: To identify ~Ortugi/ê~, ~o~ 404, with Delos, and ~Suri/ê~
with the island Syros as the older commentators and K. O. Müller,
_Dorier_, i, 381 [? not in _E.T._], did, is impossible on account of
the addition of the words ~ho/thi tropai\ êeli/oio~ alone. These
show that Syrie was far away in the fabulous west, the only possible
place for such a wonderland. It is evident that Ortygia is
originally a purely mythical spot, sacred to Artemis and no more
certainly fixed in one place than the Dionysian Nysa, and for that
reason always to be found wherever the cult of Artemis was
especially popular, in Aetolia, Syracuse, Ephesos, or Delos. Delos
is clearly distinguished from O. in _h. Ap._ 16, and only later
identified with O. (Delos being considered the older name, O.
Schneider, _Nicandr._, p. 22, n.), when Artemis had been brought
into closer connexion with Apollo, and even then not invariably.
Thus in Homer Ortygia _never_ clearly = Delos.] {84}
[26\2: ~A/rtemis de\ autê\n hexarpa/xasa eis Tau/rous metakomi/zei~
(cf. the ~mete/thêken auto\n ho theo/s~ of Enoch, Gen. 5^24) ~kai\
atha/naton poiei=, e/laphon de\ anti\ tê=s ko/rês pari/stêsi tô=|
bômô=|~, Procl., _Chrest._ ap. Kinkel _Epic. Fr._, p. 19: [Apollod.]
_Epit._ iii, 22. Wagn.]
[27\2: ~tou/tô| (tô=| Me/mnoni Êô\s para\ Dio\s aitêsame/nê
athanasi/an di/dôsi~ says Proclus with regrettable brevity (p. 33,
Kinkel).]
[28\2: It cannot be doubted (in spite of Meier, _Annali dell' Inst.
Arch._, 1883, p. 217 ff.) that the story given in ~P~ of Sarpedon's
death and the carrying away of his body, even if it does not belong
to the oldest part of the poem (which I cannot regard as certain),
is nevertheless earlier than the _Aithiopis_ and was the model for
its account of Memnon's death (cf. also Christ, _Chron. altgr.
Epos._, p. 25). But why do Thanatos and Hypnos carry away the body
of Sarpedon (instead of the usual ~thu/ella, a/ella, Ha/rpuia~, or
the winds, Q.S. ii, 550, in the case of Memnon)? Where these two are
found on Attic lekythoi as bearers of the corpse (Robert,
_Thanatos_, 19) they were perhaps intended in some consolatory sense
as in the grave inscriptions ~hu/pnos e/chei se, ma/kar . . . kai\
ne/kus ouk ege/nou~. The Homeric poet, however, can hardly have
meant anything of the sort, but merely invents the indispensable
second bearer to assist Thanatos--an effective touch but not one
that rested on any religious grounds. Hypnos as brother of Thanatos
is also found in the ~Dio\s apa/tê~, ~X~ 231.]
[29\2: ~ek tê=s pura=s hê The/tis anarpa/sasa to\n pai=da eis tê\n
Leukê\n nê=son diakomi/zei~, Procl., _Chrest._, p. 34, Kink. Then he
continues, ~hoi de\ Achaioi\ to\n _ta/phon_ chô/santes agô=na
tithe/asin~. Thus a grave-mound is set up though the body of
Achilles has been translated: evidently a concession to the older
narrative (~ô~ 80-4), which knew nothing of the translation of the
body but gives prominence to the grave-mound. Besides which, the
tumulus of Achilles--a landmark on the seashore of the
Troad--required explanation, and the poet accordingly speaks of the
erection of a cenotaph. It was not considered a contradiction to
erect cenotaphs, not only to those whose bodies were irrecoverable
(see above, Ch. I, n. 88), but also to Heroes whose bodies had been
translated. Thus Herakles, after he has been struck by lightning and
snatched up into the sky, has a ~chô=ma~ made for him, though no
bones were found upon the ~pura/~, D.S. 4, 38, 5; 39, 1. (The tumuli
found in the Troad were not, indeed, originally empty as Schliemann,
_Troy, etc._, pp. 252, 263, supposed; they were not cenotaphs but
merely grave-mounds that had once been filled and belong to a type
frequently met with in Phrygia; see Schuchhardt, _Schliemann's
Excav._ [E.T.], p. 84 ff. Kretschmer, _Einl. Ges. gr. Spr._, 1896,
p. 176.)]
[30\2: What became of Odysseus? Proclus is silent on the point, and
we have no means of guessing. According to Hyginus 127 he was buried
in Aiaia; but if nothing more was going to be done with his body why
bring him to Aiaia? Acc. to Sch. Lyc., 805, he was raised to life
again by Kirke, but what happened to him then? (Acc. to [Apollod.]
_Epit._ vii, 37 W., the dead Odysseus seems to remain in Ithaka.--We
have no grounds for altering the words to suit the Telegoneia as
Wagner does, esp. as a complete correspondence with that poem cannot
be obtained.) The death and burial of Od. among the Tyrrhenians
(Müller, _Etruscans_ iii, 281 tr. Gray) belong to quite another
connexion.]
[31\2: The _Aithiopis_ is later than the Hades scenes in ~ô~, and
consequently later still than the Nekyia of ~l~. The prophecy of the
Translation of Menelaos in ~d~ is likewise later than the Nekyia but
to all appearance older than the _Aithiopis_.] {85}
[32\2: The extract from the Nostoi in Proclus, _Chrest._, is
particularly inadequate and evidently gives no full idea of the very
wide and various subject matter of that poem. Thus, too, the notices
of it preserved from other sources give details of its subject
matter (esp. of the Nekyia which was included in it) that cannot be
fitted into the limits of Proclus' outline.]
[33\2: The idea that the Bronze age is really identical with the age
of Heroes is at first sight attractive (see e.g. Steitz, _Die W. u.
T. des Hesiod_, p. 61); one soon finds, however, that it breaks down
on closer examination.]
[34\2: It does not seem to me absolutely necessary to strike out
lines 124 f. (~hoi/ rha phula/ssousi/n te di/kas kai\ sche/tlia
e/rga, êe/ra hessa/menoi pa/ntê phoitô=ntes ep' ai=an~). They are
repeated in lines 254 f., but that is a natural place to repeat
them. Proclus does not comment on them; but it does not follow that
he did not have them before him; and Plutarch, _D.O._ 37, p. 431 B,
seems to allude to l. 125 in its present context.]
[35\2: Plu., _D.O._, 10, p. 415 B, in obvious error, takes Hesiod's
~dai/mones~ for such an intermediate class of beings; he supposes
that Hesiod distinguishes four classes ~tô=n logikô=n, theoi/,
dai/mones, hê/rôes, a/nthrôpoi~. In this Platonist division the
~hê/rôes~ would correspond rather with Hesiod's ~dai/mones~ of the
first age. (What Proclus has to say on Hesiod, _Op._ 121, p. 101,
Gaisf., is taken evidently word for word from Plutarch's commentary
on Hesiod and resembles closely the remarks in the passage cited
from the _Def. Orac._) Modern critics have often failed to notice
the difference between the Hesiodic ~dai/mones~ and the Platonic.
Plato himself is very decided about the difference (_Crat._ 397
E-398 C).]
[36\2: ~êe/ra hessa/menoi~ 125 (cf. 223; ~X~ 282) is a naive
equivalent for "invisible" as Tzet. correctly explains. This is how
it is to be understood regularly in Homer whenever there is mention
of envelopment in a cloud and the like.]
[37\2: These daimones are called ~epichtho/nioi~ in contrast (not to
the ~hupochtho/nioi~ of l. 141, but) to the ~theoi\ epoura/nioi~, as
Proclus on l. 122 rightly remarks. Thus in Homer we have
~epichtho/nioi~ regularly used as an adjective, or, standing alone,
as an equivalent of men as distinguished from gods. Then the
~hupochtho/nioi~ of 141 are brought in to form another and secondary
contrast with the ~epichtho/nioi~.]
[38\2: ~r~ 485 ff. It follows that the descriptions of the visits
paid by gods to the homes of men are of great antiquity; cf. my
_Griech. Roman_, p. 506 ff. Zeus Philios in particular is fond of
visiting men: Diod. Com. ~Epi/klêr.~, Mein. _Com._ iii, p. 543 f.
(ii, p. 420 K.).]
[39\2: ~timê\ kai\ toi=sin opêdei=~ 142. ~timê/~ in the sense not of
simple honour but of practical worship, as frequently in Homer, e.g.
in such phrases as: ~timê\ kai\ ku=dos opêdei=~, ~R~ 251; ~timê=s
aponê/menos~, ~ô~ 30: ~timê\n de\ lelo/gchasin i=sa theoi=sin~, ~l~
304; ~e/chei timê/n~, ~l~ 495, etc. In the same way here, l. 138:
~hou/neka tima\s ouk edi/doun maka/ressi theoi=s~.]
[40\2: Light and dark, i.e. good and bad, ~dai/mones~ are acc. to
Roth, _Myth. v. d. Weltaltern_ (1860), pp. 16-17, distinguished in
Hesiod's daimones of the golden and silver age. Such a distinction,
however, never appears in Hesiod; and it is hardly credible that the
gods and spirits of ancient Greek popular belief (which never really
admitted the categories good and bad) should in this primitive
period have been actually classified in accordance with such
categories. At any rate, Greek readers never found anything of the
kind expressed in Hesiod: {86} the conception of bad daimones is
regularly supported by reference to the philosophers alone (e.g.
Plut., _D.O._, 17, p. 419 A, and the conception is certainly no
older than the earliest philosophic speculation.]
[41\2: l. 141: ~toi\ me\n hupochtho/nioi (epichtho/nioi~ all MSS.
except one, see Köchly's Apparatus; also Tz.) ~ma/kares thnêtoi\
kale/ontai.--phu/lakes thnêtoi\~ was read and explained by Proclus.
This is clearly wrong, and is corrected to ~phu/lakes thnêtô=n~ (as
in l. 123) by Hagen and Welcker. But this transfers from the first
to the second race an expression that we cannot be sure Hesiod meant
to be transferred. Not merely the words but the sense, too, is thus
corrected, without due ground. ~ma/kares~ does not look like a
corruption; it is more likely that ~phu/lakes~ is an accidental
alteration. ~hup. ma/kares thnêtoi=s kale/ontai~ is the reading of
the latest editor: but here to say the least of it the addition of
~thnêtoi=s~ is superfluous. We should rather try to understand and
explain the traditional text and show how the poet came by the
remarkable expression.]
[42\2: When philosophers and philosophizing poets of a later age
occasionally refer to the soul when freed from the body as a
~dai/môn~, the expression has a totally different sense.]
[43\2: Similarly, though the oxymoron is much less daring in his
case, Isocrates, 9, 72, has ~dai/môn thnêto/s~. In order to describe
a daimon who has originally been a mortal later ages boldly invented
the compound ~anthrôpodai/môn~ which corresponds fairly well with
the Hesiodic ~ma/kar thnêto/s~: [Eur.] _Rhes._, 971; Procop., _An._
12, p. 79, 17 D. (~nekudai/môn~ on a _defixio_ from Carthage, _BCH._
xii, 299). Later still a king destined to become a god is called,
even at his birth, by Manetho (i, 280) ~_theo\n broto\n_
anthrô/poisin~.]
[44\2: The silver race was created by the gods of Olympos, like the
golden before them (l. 110; 128); only the third race (l. 143) and
then the fourth (158) by Zeus alone. It might be supposed from this
that the silver age as well as the golden age occurred in the period
before Zeus' rule, ~epi\ Kro/nou ho/t' ouranô=| embasi/leuen~ (l.
111); and in this sense "Orpheus" understood the words of Hesiod
when he ~tou= argurou= ge/nous basileu/ein phêsi\ to\n Kro/non~
(Proclus on l. 126). But it would be very difficult to reconcile l.
138 ~Zeu\s Kroni/dês ktl.~ with this view. Hesiod may then have
placed the silver age in the time when sub Iove mundus erat (as Ovid
explicitly states, _M._ i, 113 f.); but all the same it lay for him
in the far distant past before all history.]
[45\2: ~nô/numnoi~ 154 may quite as well mean "nameless", i.e.
without name or special title, as "fameless" (as it does for the
most part though not invariably in Homer).]
[46\2: See Welcker, _Kl. Schr._ ii, 6, who, however, in the desire
to rule out all possibility of identifying Scherie with Korkyra
asserts too positively that it was a part of the mainland. ~z~ 204
(compared with ~d~ 354) at least comes very close to regarding it as
an island. But it is clear that nowhere is it explicitly called an
island.--It is possible that ~Scheri/ê~, connected with ~schero/s~,
may really mean "mainland" (Welcker, loc. cit.; Kretschmer, _Einl.
Gesch. gr. Spr._, 281): but the question still remains whether the
Homeric poet, who did not invent the name, understood or respected
its original significance. At any rate, it was no longer understood
by those who in very early times identified Scherie with the island
Korkyra.]
[47\2: The objections to l. 169 as regards its form are brought out
by Steitz, _Hesiods W. u. T._, p. 69. The line is missing in most of
the MSS.; it was rejected (together with the line following, which,
however, {87} is quite sound) by ancient critics (Proclus on l.
158). Later editors are united in condemning it. But the
interpolation is at any rate old: probably even Pindar already knew
the line in this place (_O._ ii, 70).]
[48\2: ~lu=se de\ Zeu\s a/phthitos Tita=nas~ Pi. (_P._ iv, 291), in
whose time, however, this was a well-known myth to which he is only
making a passing allusion for the sake of an example. The Hesiodic
Theogony still knows nothing of it.]
[49\2: Before Hesiod we have no mention of the myth of a Golden,
Saturnian Age, nor any complete description of the imaginary life
upon Blessed Islands. But epic poetry had already, as we have seen,
provided him with occasional examples of translation to a place of
blessedness, and he only collects these into a combined picture of
such a place. To that extent the belief in a blessed life beyond the
grave meets us earlier than the myth of a Golden Age. But we have
not the slightest ground for saying that the former "must have
existed from the beginning among the Greeks" (as Milchhöfer at least
thinks, _Anf. Kunst_, p. 230). On the other hand, it may be mere
accident that the myth of the Golden Age has no older authority than
Hesiod--the story itself _may_ be much earlier. After Hesiod it was
frequently taken up and improved upon; not, however, first by
Empedocles as Graf supposes, _ad aureæ aet. fab. sym._ (_Leip.
Stud._ viii, p. 15), but already in the epic ~Alkmeôni/s~, see
Philod. _Piet._, p. 51 Gp. (See also some remarks by Alfred Nutt,
_The Voyage of Bran_, p. 269 f., 1895, with which I cannot agree.)]
{{88}}
CHAPTER III
CAVE DEITIES: SUBTERRANEAN TRANSLATION
The history of Greek culture and religion shows no sudden break or
revolution in its course. The Greeks neither at any time experienced
a movement from within that caused a violent recoil from the path
which they had chosen, nor were they ever diverted by the
overwhelming might of an invading force from the natural course of
their evolution. Out of their own natural feelings and reflexion
this most intellectually gifted nation evolved the great ideas that
nourished succeeding centuries. They anticipated all later ages. The
profoundest and the boldest, the most devout as well as the most
irreverent speculations as to the nature of God, the world and men
have their origin among the Greeks. But this excessive
many-sidedness led to a general condition of equipoise in which
individual factors restrained or balanced each other. Whereas the
most violent impacts and sudden revolutions in the history of
civilization are given by just those nations who are only able to
embrace one idea at a time and who, confined in the narrow limits of
their fanaticism, throw everything else overboard.
It is true, indeed, that the Greeks were ever open to
influences--whether civilized or the reverse--from abroad. In wave
after wave of peaceful invasion foreign ideas and ways of life,
especially from the East, flowed over Greece. In one case, at least
(that of the ecstatic religion of the Thracian
Dionysos-worshippers), a spring flood burst out that broke down all
the dykes. In many cases the invading elements might be easily
eliminated again from Greek culture; in many others they obtained a
permanent footing and influenced it deeply. But never did an
influence from abroad obtain in Greece an authority at all
comparable to the subversive and transforming power exercised by
Buddhism, Christianity, or Islam over the peoples on whom they laid
their grip. The Greek genius, as supple as it was tenacious,
maintained control over all such foreign influences, in full
possession of its original nature, its genial **naivety. New ideas,
whether introduced from abroad or engendered at home, were taken up
and assimilated, but the old were not done away with; they gradually
amalgamated with the new so that much was learnt while nothing was
quite forgotten. The stream flowed on in its peaceful course, but it
still remained the same stream. _Nec manet ut fuerat nec formas
servat easdem: sed tamen ipse idem est_. {89}
The history of Greek culture, then, has no sharply contrasted
epochs, no periods of abrupt change, when the old is completely
given up and a new era definitely begins. Indeed, the most serious
revulsions of Greek history, culture, and religion took place beyond
doubt _before_ the time of the Homeric Epos, and in that dim past it
is possible that more violent and startling upheavals may have
occurred to make the Greeks what we afterwards know them to be.
Greek life becomes first clearly known to us in Homer. It is true
that the broad uniformity that it has in the picture reflected for
us in the poems of Homer vanishes in the course of the years that
follow. New forces emerge; much that was forgotten comes to light
again now that the Homeric system of ideas, once all powerful, is
falling to pieces; out of the very old and the quite new things of
which Homer never gives the least hint are being put together. But
nowhere during the violent movements of the next troubled centuries
after Homer did any absolute break with the Epic or its system take
place. Only in the sixth century did the defiant speculation of a
few bold spirits begin to seek a way of escape from the thraldom of
the Homeric poems which still lay over the whole of Greece. The
history of the Greek common people knows nothing of a reaction
against Homer and his world. Homeric religion and moral ideas
gradually ceased to reign supreme in men's minds, but they were
never violently or completely discarded.
So we, too, though we leave behind us Homer and the Epos and enter
upon the tortuous paths of the later history of Greek soul worship
and belief in immortality, may still for a time be guided by the
Ariadne thread of the epic. In our subject, too, there are links
which connect the Homeric with following ages. Soon enough the
thread will break, and we shall have to enter the new field of
inquiry depending on our own resources. . . .
§ 1
Prominent among the chieftains, who, under the leadership of
Adrastos, came to the help of Polyneikes and laid siege to Thebes,
was Amphiaraos the Argive hero and seer descended from the
mysterious priest and prophet Melampous. He was drawn into the war
against his will, for he foresaw its unhappy end. After the decisive
struggle in which the opposing brothers fell slain by each other's
hand, the Argive host turned to flight, and with them fled
Amphiaraos. But before Periklymenos, who was pursuing him, could
drive his spear into the fugitive's back, Zeus made the earth open
before him in a flash of {90} lightning and Amphiaraos with his
horses, his chariot, and his charioteer, was swallowed up in the
depths where Zeus made him _immortal_. So runs the legend of the
fate of Amphiaraos as we learn it from innumerable sources from
Pindar onwards,[1\3] and we may be sure that thus it was told in the
Thebaïs, the old epic poem of the war of the Seven against Thebes,
which was taken up into the Epic Cycle.[2\3]
At Thebes, then, Amphiaraos lived on for ever under the earth.
Northwards in the Boeotian countryside, near Lebadeia, men told of a
similar marvel. In a cave of the mountainous ravine, before which
Lebadeia lies, lived Trophonios for ever immortal. The legends that
professed to explain his miraculous cave-existence do not quite
agree among themselves, as, indeed, is generally the case with those
figures who were not early taken up by the poets and given a fixed
place in the narratives of heroic adventure. But all accounts (the
oldest of which perhaps go back to the "Telegoneia") agree in the
assumption that Trophonios, like Amphiaraos, was first a _man_, a
famous master-builder, who while flying from his foes, had dived
underground at Lebadeia and now lives for ever in the depths of the
earth whence he foretells the future to those who come and question
him there.
These stories, then, claim to speak of men who during their lifetime
were swallowed up by the earth, and who now live on for ever at the
places where they were taken down into the depths--places situated
in quite definite localities of the Greek countryside.
We are not entirely without other legends of a similar character.
One of the wild spirits of the Lapith people from Thessalia, Kaineus
by name, having been made invulnerable by Poseidon (who had before
this transformed him from a woman into a man), was cudgelled with
tree-trunks in a battle with the Centaurs; but they could do nothing
to him, and with "upright foot" (i.e. standing upright, alive, not
lying at full length like a dead man or one mortally wounded) he
clove the earth under him and went down alive into the depths.[3\3]
In Rhodes Althaimenes was honoured as the "founder" of the Greek
cities on that island; he had not died but had vanished into a chasm
in the ground.[4\3] Like Amphiaraos, his son Amphilochos, the heir
of his prophetic power, appears to have had a legend according to
which he still dwelt alive under the earth either in Akarnania or
Cilicia.[5\3] A few more examples of the same type might be
produced,[6\3] but the number of such stories remains small, and
they only make their appearance here and there, as if by {91}
accident, in the tradition. Epic poetry without whose co-operation
such local legends rarely achieved widespread or lasting popularity,
with few exceptions left such narratives out of account. In fact,
they conflicted with the normal Homeric outlook. The belief,
however, that immortality when it was miraculously bestowed by the
favour of heaven upon certain individual men, was absolutely
conditioned by the non-occurrence of death, i.e. the separation of
the psyche from the visible man--this belief has helped to shape
these stories too. They never speak of an undying existence of the
soul by itself in separation from the body. Thus far they are firmly
rooted in orthodox Homeric belief.
But the heroes of these stories have their everlasting existence in
special abodes under the surface of the earth, in subterranean
chambers[7\3]--not in the common meeting place of the departed; they
each have their own peculiar domain far from the House of Aïdoneus.
Such isolation of individuals below the earth does not agree with
Homeric ideas; though it almost seems as if a dim echo of these
stories of seers like Amphiaraos and Amphilochos, translated alive
and with consciousness undestroyed, could be discerned in what the
Homeric Nekyia says of Teiresias the Theban seer, in whom alone of
all the shadows Persephone had allowed consciousness and
intelligence (the essential vital powers) to remain
undiminished.[8\3] But even he is fast bound in Erebos, the general
home of the dead, and cut off from all connexion with the upper
world, as is demanded by the Homeric view of the world. Amphiaraos
and Trophonios, on the other hand, are released from Hades; not
having suffered death they have not entered the world of the
strengthless dead. They are also translated out of this life
(besides out of Hades). But this "subterranean translation" is in
its nature and in the origin of the belief in it quite distinct from
that "translation to Islands of the Blest" of which we spoke in the
last chapter. Those Heroes dwelling alone or in company on holy
islands far out over the sea are far removed from human life and
beyond the reach of prayers and desires. No influence upon the
things of this world is attributed to them, and consequently no cult
is offered to them: there never existed a cult of the dwellers in
Elysium _as such_. They glimmer in the distance like visions of the
poet's fancy from which no one anticipates active interference with
the world of reality. It is quite different with these dwellers in
the caves. They are actually alive under the surface of the earth;
not far away in the inaccessible, spectral world of Hades, but here
in the midst of Greece. Questions and prayers {92} can reach down to
them, and they can send up aid to those who call to them. To them,
accordingly, as powerful and effectual Spirits a _cult_ is paid.
We have detailed information of the manner in which Amphiaraos was
worshipped, more especially in later times, when, in addition to the
neighbourhood of Thebes, where the original legend of his descent
beneath the earth was localized, Oropos also, the boundary town
between Boeotia and Attica, was with overwhelming success identified
as the place of his disappearance and made a centre of his
influence.[9\3] We have also a certain amount of information, again
from later ages, about the cult of Trophonios. With the passage of
time, the details of the worship grew and multiplied, but among them
all certain features stand out as especially characteristic and
allow us to understand the religious ideas lying behind them. To
Amphiaraos and Trophonios were offered just those sacrifices which
were also paid to the Chthonic deities, i.e. those deities who dwelt
in the depths of the earth.[10\3] Aid was not expected from them in
the details of the daily life of individuals or states. Only in the
actual locality of their descent were they effectual, and only there
because they revealed the future. Kroisos had already, and Mardonios
after him, sent inquiries to the most famous oracles of the
day,[11\3] and among them to Amphiaraos at his ancient oracular seat
near Thebes and to Trophonios at Lebadeia. Of Amphiaraos it was
believed that he revealed the future by visions sent in dreams to
those who after making offering laid themselves down to sleep in his
temple. To question Trophonios, it was necessary to pass through a
narrow passage into his cave. Inside, the inquirer expected to see
Trophonios in person or, at least, to hear his instructions.[12\3]
He dwelt, like a spirit confined to the scene of his magical
existence, in bodily person at the bottom of his cave. In fact, the
method of _Incubation_, or temple-sleep, by which Amphiaraos (like
many other daimones and Heroes) was questioned, was based on the
assumption that the daimon, who was only visible indeed to mortal
eyes in the higher state achieved by the soul in dreams, had his
permanent dwelling at the seat of his oracle.[13\3] That is why his
appearance can only be expected at this particular place and nowhere
else. Originally, too, it was only the dwellers in the depths of the
earth who were thus visible in dreams to those who lay down to sleep
in the temple over the place where they had their subterranean
abode. Homer knows nothing of either gods or daimones who live
permanently under the ground in definite places in the inhabited
world, near mankind; and for that {93} reason he betrays no
knowledge of _Incubation-oracles_.[14\3] There is some ground for
the belief that this method, inherent in the divinatory power, of
getting into touch with the spirit world, was one of the oldest
types of Greek oracular art--certainly not later than the Apolline
_mantikê_ of inspiration. And it is precisely in the legend of
Amphiaraos, as we may believe it to have been related as early as
the cyclic poem of the Thebaïs, that we have a proof that already in
the days when the quasi-Homeric poetry was still popular, people
believed in deathless dwellers below the earth and in their active
potency in the mantic art.
It is clear, then, that the worship of Amphiaraos and the belief in
his subterranean existence was not due to the influence of the Epic.
Rather the reverse was the case; the cult already existed and
provided the idea of the daimon and this gave rise to the Epic
narrative. The Epic found an existing cult of an oracular daimon who
dwelt beneath the earth near Thebes ready to its hand. It reduced
this fact to a form which it could understand in a manner typical of
the relation which frequently existed between the facts of religious
life and Epic poetry. The cult was connected with an event in
legendary history, and so brought into harmony with the Epic
outlook. The Epic knew nothing of gods attached in this way to a
**particular earthly spot, and so the spirit worshipped in the cult
became in the epic imagination a chieftain and Seer who had not
always lived beneath the earth in that place, but had only been
transported there subsequently by a miraculous fiat of the supreme
god, who had also accorded an eternal life in the depths to the
translated hero.[15\3]
We may perhaps find a parallel in more recent Saga story that will
throw light on the question. German mythology is perfectly familiar
with such figures for ever, or until the day of judgment, alive in
caverns of the mountains or subterranean chambers. Thus,
Charlemagne, or it may be Charles the Fifth, still has his abode in
Odenberg or in Unterberg, near Salzburg, Frederick II (or, in more
recent versions of the legend, Frederick I Barbarossa in Kyffhäuser,
Henry the Fowler in Sudemerberg, near Goslar. Thus, too, King
Arthur, Holger Danske, and many other favourite characters of
popular tradition dwell in subterranean caverns.[16\3] Occasionally,
we can still plainly see how these were originally ancient _gods_
who according to pagan belief dwelt in hollow mountains and whose
place has been taken by these heroes and holy men "translated"
beneath the earth.[17\3] So, too, Greek tradition allows us to see
even now that those ancient {94} translated mortals, Amphiaraos and
Trophonios, are only Epic substitutes for ancient deities who did
not owe their everlasting life and subterranean abode to the favour
of heaven, but had possessed these from the beginning. At least, at
the site of his worship men knew that the prophetic dweller in the
cave was a _god_; one of them is called Zeus Trophonios or
Trephonios, not only by learned authorities, but in inscriptions
from Lebadeia;[18\3] Amphiaraos, too, is once called Zeus Amphiaraos
and more often a god.[19\3] In the Translation legends of
Christianized people the kings have usurped the place of the ancient
gods because the gods themselves, fallen into neglect, have been
dethroned. For reasons not so very different from these the ancient
gods on Greek soil were turned into heroes.
Surrounded by the unending multiplicity of contemporary notions of
divinity the imagination of the Epic poet had fashioned for itself a
generalized picture of a divine kingdom. This was at that time a
solitary attempt to erect a Panhellenic theological system, but it
had the greatest influence upon the mental conceptions of Greeks of
every race, for the Epic poet addressed them all. He stood as though
on a height looking down on all the narrow valleys and mountainous
countrysides cut off from the rest of the world, and a wide prospect
opened out before his eyes. He **soars above all the innumerable
contradictory and conflicting details of local cult and belief, and
finds something universal beyond. The name and conception of Zeus,
Apollo, Hermes, Athena, and all the gods represented innumerable
diversities in the myths and ritual of the different cities and
races; their outward shapes and personalities differed widely
according to their localization and the manner of their influence.
Instead of all these the Epic poet sees only one Zeus, Apollo, etc.,
reduced in each case to a single unified personality. And just as he
had looked beyond the multiplicity of local deities so he did not
confine his gods to particular local habitations and centres of
influence in the Greek countries; they did not belong to one
locality more than another. True they worked and ruled in the world,
but they were for all that free to move where they would. They dwell
and meet together on the heights of Olympos, the Pierian Holy
Mountain, which, however, became in the imagination of Homer,
unfettered by attachment to any particular place, more and more an
ideal mountain of fancy. So the broad sea is the dwelling-place of
Poseidon; he is not confined to any one place. Even the rulers of
the spirit world. Aïdes and Persephoneia, have their abode, not,
indeed, on {95} Olympos, and certainly not here or there beneath the
surface of the Greek countryside, but far away in a land of fancy;
they, too, are not bound to any particular locality of the actual
world. At the end of this enormous work of unification and
idealization, that, out of all the infinite special manifestations
of the name Zeus, each worshipped only in its narrow little circle
in Greece, had evolved the single almighty figure of Zeus Father of
Gods and Men--how could one who had imagined all this be able to
understand, if he met with such a creature, a special Zeus, calling
himself Zeus Trophonios, who passed his undying existence in a cave
near Lebadeia and was only powerful in that one spot?
Of course, the inhabitant of such a holy spot would not allow
himself to be deprived of the belief in the existence and presence
of the god on his native soil. Though he might be ready enough in
general and in respect of other men's local deities to regulate
conceptions of the nature of the gods in accordance with the Homeric
picture, yet he refused absolutely to be shaken in his belief in his
own local deity, however unknown to the Olympian family of gods in
Homer that deity might be. The local worship in its unaltered,
undisturbed persistence, witnessed to the objective truth of his
belief. Thus there were preserved in the pious faith of their
worshippers large numbers of local deities whose circle of influence
was, however, very limited. They had not been raised with the other
gods to the heights of Olympos, but had remained faithful to the
soil in which they had their home,[20\3] witnesses to a far distant
past in which the members of every remote little community had their
separate god bound to the soil beyond which their thoughts did not
stray. We shall see how in post-Homeric times many such ancient
earth-gods, i.e. gods thought of as living below the surface of the
ground, were given new and in some cases a more wide-reaching lease
of life. The Epic in its prime knew nothing of these earth-dwelling
deities. When it could not close its eyes to their existence it
changed them into translated heroes, and beyond the immediate
locality of the cult this version of them became the commonly
accepted one throughout the rest of Greece.
§ 2
But the Epic was by no means uniform in intention, or carried
through as a systematic unity; it was far from being the offspring
of a learned reflection that could tolerate no discrepancy. Even
here we find at least some few dim {96} recollections of the ancient
belief in gods that can have their permanent abode in mountain
hollows.
The Odyssey (xix, 178 f.) calls Minos, the son of Zeus (cf. _Il._
xiii, 450; xiv, 322; _Od._ xi, 568) who ruled in Knossos the Cretan
city, "the familiar gossip of great Zeus."[21\3] Very probably the
poet meant by these words much the same as was understood by them in
later times: that Minos was personally acquainted with Zeus, on
earth, of course, and, in fact, in the cave--not far from Knossos on
the side of Mount Ida--which was revered as the "Cave of
Zeus".[22\3] The island of Crete, overrun by the Greeks at an early
period, still preserved in its remote seclusion much that was
primeval in belief and legend. There, sometimes on Mount Ida,
sometimes on Mount Dicte (in the east of the island) the holy cave
was pointed out where (already in Hesiod) Zeus was said to have been
born.[23\3] According to a local legend, which probably was present
to the fancy of the writer of these lines of the Odyssey, the god
now fully grown up still dwelt in his subterranean chamber, and was
visited by individual mortals. As Minos before him, so, too,
Epimenides had been allowed to hear the prophecies of the god.[24\3]
The Zeus that dwelt in Ida was worshipped in a mystical cult;[25\3]
every year a "throne" was "spread" for him, i.e. probably a "divine
banquet" (Theoxenion) was prepared for his consumption, as for other
especially Chthonic deities. The initiated then entered the cave
dressed in black woollen garments, and remained within for thrice
nine days.[26\3] Everything points to the existence of conceptions
similar to those that we found expressed in the cult of Zeus
Trophonios at Lebadeia. Zeus dwelling in bodily form in the depths
of his cave can appear in person to those who enter his cave duly
sanctified.
Then there appears, from the fourth century onwards, the strange
statement, perhaps started by Euhemeros and eagerly taken up in
later ages by scoffers like Lucian or Christian opponents of the old
religion, that Zeus lay _buried_ on Ida.[27\3] What is here called
the _grave_ of the god is nothing in reality but the _cave_ which
was generally regarded as his permanent abode.[28\3] The
idea--always strange to the Greeks[29\3]--that a god could lie
buried anywhere on the earth, deprived of life for ever or even for
a limited period of time, is often met with in the tradition of
Semitic and other non-Greek peoples.[30\3] We need not inquire what
deeper or perhaps allegorical sense such legends may have had in the
beliefs of those nations; there is no reason to suppose that such
foreign legends had any influence in the formation of Greek myth.
Nor does the {97} tradition in Greek lands give the slightest
support to the view current among modern mythologists that the death
and burial of gods is intended to symbolize the "death of Nature".
It is, in fact, plain that in the legend of the Cretan Zeus' grave,
the "grave" has simply taken the place of the cave as the
everlasting abode of the undying god, and that it is a paradoxical
expression intended to signify his perpetual confinement to that
place. We are immediately reminded of a no less paradoxical notice
of a god's grave at Delphi. Under the navel stone (Omphalos) of the
Earth-goddess (which was a vaulted piece of masonry in the Temple of
Apollo recalling in its shape the ancient vaulted tombs),[31\3]
there lay buried a divine being. Our learned authorities call this
being Python, the enemy of Apollo; one and only one quite
untrustworthy witness says it was Dionysos.[32\3] Here we have a
case of one god setting up his temple and abode over the grave of
another god. Apollo, the god of prophecy, thrones it over the
Earth-spirit Python, the son of the Earth-goddess Gaia. Now, we have
ancient and in the highest degree trustworthy traditions to the
effect that there was originally at Delphi an ancient Earth-Oracle
into whose place Apollo and his mantic art came later as an
intruder. We are therefore justified in believing that this
circumstance in the history of religion has found expression in the
legend that Apollo's temple and oracular seat stood over the place
where an ancient and superseded oracle-daimon lay "buried".[33\3] In
the days when the primeval Earth-Oracle was still powerful its
guardian would not lie dead and buried under the Omphalos of the
Earth-goddess, but would have dwelt there alive underground, like
Amphiaraos or Trophonios or Zeus on Ida.
§ 3
The "grave" under the Omphalos means in the case of Python the
overthrow of an earth-dwelling Chthonic Daimon by the cult of
Apollo. The "grave" of Zeus, which had thrust itself into the place
of an older legend of the dwelling of Zeus in the cave of the
mountain, expresses the same idea as this legend, but expresses it
in a form current in later ages which knew of many "Heroes" who
after their death and from their graves gave proof of a higher
existence and a powerful influence. The Zeus that died and is buried
is only a god reduced to a Hero;[34\3] remarkable and paradoxical is
only the fact that unlike Zeus Amphiaraos, Zeus Trophonios (and Zeus
Asklepios), he has not, in the usual fashion, dropped his title of
god, which directly contradicted his "Hero" {98} nature. It is
possible that in the case of this cave-Zeus, half-god half-Hero, a
conception has been transferred merely on analogy from other cases
where it was applied more properly, after they had become fully
"Heroized", to gods who according to the no longer intelligible
theory had once been dwellers in the depths of the earth.
We have several accounts of Heroes who were buried in temples of
gods and were sometimes associated with the cult of the higher god
to whom the temple was dedicated. The way in which such legends
could arise may be seen unusually clearly from the case of
_Erechtheus_.
The Ship-Catalogue in the Iliad (ii, 546 ff.) tells us that
Erechtheus was the son of the Earth, but that Athene brought him up
and "settled him in her rich temple",[35\3] where the Athenians
every year honour him with sacrifice of sheep and bulls.[36\3] It is
plain that Erechtheus is here thought of as still living; to honour
a dead man with such offerings, repeated every year and attended by
the whole community, would be a custom quite unknown to Homer.
Erechtheus is, therefore, thought of as dwelling alive in the temple
in which Athene has set him down, i.e. the ancient temple on the
Acropolis which was enclosed in the "strong house of Erechtheus", to
which, according to the Odyssey, Athene betakes herself as her _own_
home. On the old citadel of the Kings, royal residence and sanctuary
of the goddess were combined; its foundation walls have recently
been discovered on the spot where later joint worship was paid to
Athene and Erechtheus in the "Erechtheion".[37\3] Erechtheus dwells
below the ground in a crypt of this temple,[38\3] like other
earth-deities, in the form of a snake, immortally. He is not dead,
for as Euripides still says, in a story which otherwise follows
different lines, "the earth gaped and covered him over,"[39\3] i.e.
he was _translated_ and lived on under the earth. On the analogy of
the examples already discussed it is clear that this is also a case
of a primitive local deity,[40\3] once supposed to have been living
always in a cave on the mountain-side, transformed to a Hero who has
been brought there and raised to immortal life. The later belief in
Heroes required a _grave_ at which the continued existence and
potency of the "Hero" was localized; by a natural process of
development the Hero Erechtheus translated alive and made immortal
is thought of as _buried_ in a grave. Erichthonios, who was
expressly identified with the Homeric Erechtheus, was by later ages
supposed to be buried in the Temple of Polias, i.e. the oldest
temple of Athene, on the Acropolis.[41\3] We have clearly before us
the steps by which the {99} aboriginal deity, dwelling beneath the
ground, the son of Earth, is made into a mortal Hero, translated to
immortality and placed under the protection of the Olympian goddess
who has now become more powerful than he; and finally transferred,
cave and all, to the precincts of her temple, and finally reduced to
the condition of a Hero like another, who had died and lies
peacefully buried in the temple of the goddess on the citadel.
With this example before us we may explain several other analogous
cases, in which we have only the last stage of the process, the
grave of a Hero in a god's temple, without any of the intermediate
steps. A single example may be given.
At Amyklai, not far from Sparta, in the holiest temple of Laconia,
stood the ancient bronze statue of Apollo upon an altar-shaped base,
within which, according to legend, _Hyakinthos_ lay buried. Through
a bronze door in the side of the altar offerings for the dead were
sent down to "Hyakinthos" buried below every year at the festival of
the Hyakinthia.[42\3] The recipient of these offerings has little
resemblance to the gentle youth of popular legend. The Hellenistic
poets tell how he was beloved by Apollo and died by a cast of
Apollo's discus and was changed into a flower. The fable, almost
destitute of local reference, has been put together from many
popular themes.[43\3] The sculpture on the above-mentioned altar, on
the other hand, represents among many gods and heroes Hyakinthos and
his sister Polyboia as they are being carried up to heaven--which
will not square with the metamorphosis story. Further, he is
represented as bearded, and so not as the boy whom Apollo
loved,[44\3] but as a grown man (of whose daughters indeed other
legends make mention).[45\3] The true story of _this_ Hyakinthos has
disappeared almost without leaving a trace. But in what the monument
reveals and in what we know of the yearly festival held in honour of
Hyakinthos significant features emerge which perhaps can tell us the
real character of the Daimon that was honoured at Amyklai together
with, and as our information clearly shows, before Apollo
himself.[46\3] Hyakinthos was given offerings that were otherwise
peculiar to the gods that ruled the lower world.[47\3] These
offerings were let down directly into the underground place where,
in fact, Hyakinthos himself was supposed to dwell. In the great
festival of the Hyakinthia the alternate worship of Apollo and
Hyakinthos (after whom as the chief personage the festival is named)
points to the incomplete amalgamation of two originally distinct
cults; and the plain and unadorned, almost dismal, ceremonies of
{100} the days devoted to Hyakinthos--contrasted with the more
cheerful worship paid to Apollo on the middle day of the
feast[48\3]--allow us to see clearly the real nature of Hyakinthos
as a Daimon related to the gods of the underworld. On the
altar-relief Polyboia was represented as his sister: she was a
goddess of the underworld like Persephone.[49\3] Hyakinthos was,
then, an old local deity of the Amyklaian countryside, dwelling
below the earth, and his worship at Amyklai was older than that of
Apollo. But he is a dim figure. The Olympian god (probably not
before the Doric conquest of the Achæan land) has set himself down
beside, and indeed over, the ancient earth-spirit, and now outshines
him without quite being able to banish his worship. The divine
existence of the latter under the ground could not be imagined by
later ages, except as the after-existence of the psyche of a dead
and buried Hero whose body lay in the "grave" under the statue of
the god. Next, in order to explain their association in cult, poetic
legend made the god a lover, just as in another case, and for
similar reasons, it had made him the lover of Daphne.[50\3]
§ 4
Thus it may be that under many a Hero whose grave was shown in the
Temple of a god an ancient local-god was hidden, whose abode beneath
the earth had been converted into a "grave" now that he himself had
sunk from a deity of higher rank to a human chieftain. It depended
upon the circumstances of the case whether his humanization was
complete or whether the memory of his former god-head (preserved in
cult) secured for him a second elevation to the heavenly
regions[51\3] among the Olympian gods whose nature was originally
quite foreign to that of the old earth-daimon. Such conceptions,
differing widely according to the circumstances of place and time,
are shown most clearly in the different views taken of _Asklepios_.
For Homer and the poets he is generally a great chieftain, a mortal
who had learnt the art of healing from Cheiron. In religious cult he
was generally set on a level with the upper gods. In reality he,
too, is a local earth-dwelling deity from Thessaly, who from beneath
the earth dispenses, like so many earth-spirits, healing from the
ills of the flesh and knowledge of the future[52\3]--the two being
closely connected in antiquity. He, too, easily bore the change from
god to Hero. Asklepios was struck by Zeus' lightning which in this,
as in many cases, did not destroy life, but translated the person
affected to a higher existence outside the visible world.[53\3]
{101} We can now easily understand what it means when even this
ancient earth-deity is said to be "buried"--his grave being shown at
different places.[54\3] Many peculiarities of the worship paid to
him show clearly the original character of Asklepios as an ancient
god living below the earth.[55\3] One essential characteristic
indeed of such earth-spirits he lacks--he is not bound to any one
particular place. An enterprising priesthood, wandering in company
with the rest of their tribe, had taken with them this old
established worship of theirs, and spread it far and wide, so that
Asklepios himself became at home in many different places.
Now, in closest relationship, though they remained more faithful to
their original character, with this Zeus Asklepios stood those
Boeotian earth-spirits with whom this discussion began. Trophonios,
and Amphiaraos, too, might have been described as an Asklepios, who
had stayed at home in his old cavern dwelling.[56\3] They, too,
Amphiaraos and Trophonios, had become mortal men of a past age in
the imagination of a time which could no longer properly understand
such cave-spirits. But we never hear of their "graves"; for the
generation which made _them_ Heroes knew nothing of mortal
chieftains who after dying and being buried yet lived on with
undiminished powers. But it was the belief in their uninterrupted
potency that gave those strange cavern deities a secure place in
men's memory. In the epic and in legends inspired by the epic they
are recognized as human beings that had not died but had been
translated, without any division of soul from body, to everlasting
life in the depths of the earth. Ever afterwards--even when they are
not only called immortal, but actually "gods"--they are reckoned as
men who have _become_ immortal or godlike.[57\3] And they have
become the patterns of what other mortals too may rise to. In the
_Electra_ of Sophokles (836 ff.) the chorus wishing to justify the
hope of a continued life for the departed, expressly appeal to the
example of Amphiaraos, who still rules below the earth with all his
spiritual powers intact. For the same reason these and other
examples offered by ancient legend and poetry of the "translation"
of individual great men to a life below the earth are important for
our inquiry too. In them, as it did (in another sense) in the case of
those translated to the Islands of the Blest, the Epic points beyond
its own resigned and gloomy conception of the state after death
towards a higher life after the visible world has been left behind.
It took isolated cases of the once numerous class of cavern deities
worshipped in Greek countries, and deprived {102} them of their
god-head, though not of the superhumanly continued existence and
(especially mantic) powers claimed for them by the belief and cult
of their countrymen. Thus reduced to mortal rank, it interwove them
in the fabric of the heroic mythology, and in so doing instituted a
class of outstanding human individuals who had been raised to a
godlike existence, far, indeed, from the upper world, but, at least,
not condemned to the common realm of the souls. Instead they were
given a home beneath the earth, each in a definite place in Greek
territory, near living men, and able to help them. The descent from
god to mortal Hero resulted, since the essential point of continued
existence was not denied, in a corresponding exaltation of the
mortal and the heroic to the divine. Thus the epic leads us in this
instance towards a range of conceptions which the poems themselves
treated as though it never existed, and which now suddenly comes
into view.
NOTES TO CHAPTER III
[1\3: Pi., _N._ ix, 24 ff., x, 8 f., [Apollod.] iii, 6, 8, 4 (~su\n
tô=| ha/rmati kai\ tô=| hênio/chô| Ba/tôni . . . _ekru/phthê_ kai\
Zeu\s _atha/naton_ auto\n epoi/êsen~) etc. The expressions used to
describe the translation and continued conscious existence of A. are
noteworthy: ~kata\ gai=' auto/n te/ nin kai\ phaidi/mous hi/ppous
_e/marpsen_~, Pi., _O._ vi, 14. ~Zeu\s _kru/psen_ ha/m' hi/ppois~,
_N._ ix, 25. ~gai=a _hupe/dekto_ ma/ntin Oiklei/dan~, x, 8. ~ma/ntis
_kekeuthô\s_ polemi/as hupo chthono/s~, A., _Th._, 588. ~ede/xato
rhagei=sa Thêbai/a ko/nis~, S. _fr._, 873 (= 958 P.). ~theoi\ _zô=nt'
anarpa/santes_ es mu/chous chthono\s autoi=s tethri/ppois
eulogou=sin emphanô=s~, E. _Supp._, 928 f. ~_hê/rpasen_ cha/rubdis
oiônosko/pon, te/thrippon ha/rma peribalou=sa cha/smati~, 501 f.
(Eriphyle ~Amphia/raon _e/krups'_ hupo\ gê=n autoi=si su\n
hi/ppois~, Oracle in Ephorus ap. Ath., 232 F. ~Amphiara/ou _zô=ntos_
to\ sô=ma katade/xasthai tê\n gê=n~, Agatharch., p. 115, 21 Mü.
~_epespa/sato_ hê gê= _zô=nta_~, Philostr., _V. Ap._, 2, 37, p. 79,
18 Kays. ~_aphanismo/s_~ of A., St. Byz. s. ~Ha/rpuia.--_pa/mpsuchos_
ana/ssei~, S., _El._, 841; ~_aei\_ zô=n tima=tai~, Xen.,
_Cyn._ i, 8.]
[2\3: That the translation of Amphiaraos in the form so frequently
repeated by later authors (clearly following an important and
influential original) appeared already in the Thebaïs of the epic
cycle is taken by Welcker for granted, _Ep. Cykl._ ii, 362, 66. The
view is intrinsically probable: but it can claim more definite
grounds. Pi., _O._ vi, 12-17, tells us that after Amphiaraos and his
team had been swallowed up by the earth, Adrastos, over the seven
funeral-pyres (which consumed the bodies of the Argives who had
fallen in battle, said ~pothe/ô stratia=s ophthalmo\n ema=s,
ampho/teron, ma/ntin t' agatho\n kai\ douri\ ma/rnasthai~. That this
famous lament was taken ~ek tê=s kuklikê=s Thêbaï/dos~, _fr._ 5
Kinkel, p. 12, is proved by the testimony of the ancient scholia on
~pothe/ô ktl.~, quoting Asklepiades. This means that in the Thebaïs
too, after the battle was over Amphiaraos was not to be found either
among the fallen or the survivors--was in fact translated. Pindar
must have taken not merely the words of the lament of Adrastos but
the whole situation that led up to these words, as he described it,
from the Thebaïs. (Bethe, _Theb. Held._ [1891], p. 58 f., 94 ff.,
claims to prove that Pindar took nothing but the words ~ampho/teron
ktl.~ from the Thebaïs which said nothing of the burial of these who
had fallen before Thebes, and that Pindar added this last on his own
account, _O._ vi, as well as _N._ ix, 25. But the "proofs" of this
view, in itself highly improbable, on closer examination come to
nothing.)--In the Odyssey it is said of Amph. ~_o/let'_ en
Thê/bê|si~ ~o~ 247; ~_tha/nen_ Amphia/raos~ 253. The expression "is
naturally to be understood as merely implying _disappearance_ from
the earth" says Welcker, _Ep. C._ ii, 366. All we can claim is that
the expression does not indeed _prevent_ us from assuming that the
story of the "disappearance" of Amph. was known also to the poet of
these lines. Thus in the _OC._ of Soph. Antigone says twice over
(ll. 1706, 1714) that Oedipus ~_e/thane_~, whereas he really was
like Amphiaraos translated alive (~a/skopoi pla/kes _e/marpsan_~
1681).]
[3\3: Pi., _fr._ 167, A.R. i, 57-64 (~zôo/s per e/ti . . . edu/seto
neio/thi gai/ês~). Orph., _Arg._, 171-5 (~phasi\n . . . zôo/n t' en
phthime/noisi molei=n hupo\ keu/thesi gai/ês~). Agatharch., p. 114,
39-43 Mü. (~eis tê\n gê=n katadu=nai ortho/n te kai\ zô=nta~).
Schol. and Eust. on ~A~ 264, p. 1001.--In Ovid, _M._ xii, 514 ff.,
the translation becomes a metamorphosis (into a bird); and {104}
often an ancient translation myth has thus been replaced by a
metamorphosis in later mythology. The connected story of Kaineus has
been lost, and only a few fragments survive in Sch., A.R. i, 57;
Sch., ~A~ 264 (the best known being the change of sex [cf. also
Meineke, _h. crit. com._, 345], the meaning of which is very
dubious. Similar stories are told of Teiresias, Sithon (Ov., _M._
iv, 280), Iphis, and Ianthe, this last reminding us strikingly of a
narrative in the Mahâbhârata. Then frequently in many miracle tales,
both heathen and Christian, to which far too much respect is paid by
those who seek to find in them dark reminiscences of bisexual gods).
No traces of a _cult_ of Kaineus can be found.]
[4\3: Althaimenes, son of Katreus (cf. _Rh. Mus._ 36, 432 f.),
~euxa/menos hupo\ cha/smatos ekru/bê~ [Apollod.], iii, 2, 2, 3.
Rationalistic version of Zeno of Rhodos ap. D.S., 5, 59, 4, who
says, however, ~hu/steron kata\ chrêsmo/n tina tima\s e/sche para\
Rhodi/ois hêrôïka/s~, and, in fact, we learn from an insc. in
Newton, _Gr. Insc. in B.M._ ii, 352, that a political division
(Ktoina?) of the people of Rhodos was called ~Althaimeni/s~, whose
~hê/rôs epô/numos~ must have been Althaimenes.]
[5\3: Amphilochos appeared in person to sleepers at his dream-oracle
at Mallos in Cilicia (Luc., _Philops._, 38)--so also did his rival
Mopsos, Plut., _DO._ 45, 434 D--as well as at his oracle in
Akarnania, Aristid. i, p. 78 D. [38, 21 Keil]. Mopsos in Cilicia and
Amphilochos in Akarnania are alike in being among those ~daimo/nia~
which ~hidrume/na e/n tini to/pô| tou=ton oikou=sin~, Orig., _c.
Cels._ iii, 34, pp. 293-4 L. The same author says of Amph. Mopsos
and others, ~anthrôpoeidei=s theôrei=sthai theou/s~, vii, 35, p.
53.]
[6\3: Laodike, daughter of Priam [Apollod.], _Epit._ v, 25; Nicol.
_Prog._ ii, 1.--Aristaios, who ~a/phantos gi/gnetai~ in M. Haemus
and is now honoured ~athana/tois timai=s~, D.S. iv, 82, 6. (Cf.
Hiller v. Gärtr., Pauly-Wiss. ii, 855, 23 ff.)]
[7\3: The regular expression for these subterranean dwelling-places
is ~me/gara~. Lex. rhet. ap. Eust., _Od._, 1387, 17 f. Hence also
the sacrificial pits into which men lowered the offerings made to
the deities of the lower world are called ~me/gara~ (Lob., _Agl._,
830; ~me/gara = cha/smata~, Schol. Luc., _D. Mer._ 2, pp. 275 ff.
Rabe. It was thought that by sinking the gifts in the ground they
would immediately reach the dwelling-place of the spirit who lived
there. The sacrificial chasm is itself the "chamber", ~me/garon~, in
which the spirit lives (in the form of a snake) and dwells.]
[8\3: ~k~ 492 ff., ~psuchê=| chrêsome/nous Thêbai/ou Teiresi/ao,
ma/ntêos alaou= tou= te phre/nes e/mpedoi/ eisin; tô=| kai\
tethnêô=ti no/on po/re Persepho/neia, oi/ô| pepnu=sthai; toi\ de\
skiai\ aï/sousin~. His ~phre/nes~ being undestroyed the most
important and distinguishing feature of death is absent. His body,
indeed, is destroyed and hence he is called ~tethnêô/s~ like all the
other dwellers in Hades, though it is still difficult to see how the
~phre/nes~ could remain without a body. It is highly probable that
the idea of the continued existence of the consciousness of the
famous seer renowned in Theban legend was derived by the poet from a
popular tradition according to which Teiresias still gave proof of
the clearness of his wits by the oracles which he sent up from below
the earth. In Orchomenos there was a ~chrêstê/rion Teiresi/ou~,
Plu., _DO._ 44, p. 434 C (as Nitzsch, _Anm. Od._ iii, p. 151. also
reminds us). If we may argue from the context in which Plutarch
speaks of him, this must have been an earth-oracle, i.e. an
_incubation-oracle_. There stories like those told at Thebes of
Amphiaraos may have been related of Teiresias and his survival after
death. Some such information the poet of {105} the Nekyia may then
have transformed and made use of for his own purposes. Str. 762 not
without good ground connects these verses about Teiresias with the
stories of Amphiaraos and Trophonios.]
[9\3: The ancient site of the Oracle of Amphiaraos was near Thebes
at the place (Knopia where according to the epic story he sank into
the earth. Paus. 9, 8, 3, Str. 404. Even at the time of the Persian
war the envoy of Mardonios inquired of him there, near Thebes, as
Hdt. viii, 134, unmistakably says. (That the oracle lay in Theban
territory is shown also by the addition of the words, otherwise
pointless, ~Thêbai/ôn oudeni\ e/xesti manteu/esthai autothi/~. A
similar rule is found at the temple of Herakles in Erythrai which
may be approached by Thracian women but not by Erythræan women
[Paus. 7, 5, 7-8]; and in the same way the Lampsakenoi were
excluded from the funeral games of Miltiades on the Chersonnese:
Hdt. vi, 38.) Oropos also claimed to harbour Amphiaraos under its
soil; Sch. Pi., _O._ vi, 18, 21-3; differently in Paus. 1, 34, 2-4.
But the oracle must have been moved there afterwards--hardly before
the end of the fifth century (~methidru/thê~, Str. 404); to suppose
that it had always been confined to Oropos is contrary to all the
traditional evidence.]
[10\3: Those who wished to inquire of his oracle offered by night to
Trophonios, before going down into the cave, a ram, sacrificing it
in a pit (~bo/thros~): Paus. 9, 39, 6; to Amphiaraos, after a
considerable fast (Philos., _VA._, 2, 37, pp. 79, 19 ff. K.) and the
provision of a ~katha/rsion~, the inquirer offered a ram upon the
fleece of which he lay down to sleep (Paus. 1, 34, 5).--Cleanthem
cum _pede terram percussisset_ versum ex Epigonis (prob. of Soph.)
ferunt dixisse: audisne haec, Amphiaraë, sub terram abdite? Cic.,
_TD._ ii, 60. The gesture also must have been borrowed from the same
scene in the ~Epi/gonoi~. It was thus customary to knock on the
ground in calling upon A., as in the case of other ~katachtho/nioi
(Amphia/rae chtho/nie~ occurs as late as _P. Mag. Par._ 1446 f. W
.): ~I~ 568; cf. Paus. 8, 15, 3. Cf. also Nägelsb., _Nachh.
Theol._, 102, 214. Skedasos in Sparta ~gê=n tu/ptôn anekalei=to ta\s
Erinu/as~, Plu., _AN._ 3, p. 774 B. In his grief for the loss of his
daughter Herodes Atticus threw himself on the ground ~tê\n gê=n
pai/ôn kai\ boô=n; ti/ soi, thu/gater, kathagi/sô? ti/ soi
xuntha/psô?~ Philostr., _VS._ 2, 1, 10. Pythagoras ~ho/tan
brontê/sê| tê=s gê=s ha/psasthai parê/ggeilen~, Iamb., _VP._ 156.]
[11\3: That the dream-oracle of Trophonios had a much older
influence is implied by the story of the inquiry made of it by the
~Boiôtoi\ halo/ntes hupo\ Thra|kô=n~ in Phot. (Suid.) ~lu/sioi
teletai/~.]
[12\3: Trophonios himself was supposed to appear in the cave at
Lebadeia. The inquirer goes down to it ~deo/menos _suggene/sthai_
tô=| daimoni/ô|~ (Max. Tyr. 14, 2, p. 249 R.); indications were
sought from sacrifice ~ei dê\ to\n katio/nta eumenê\s kai\ hi/leôs
_de/xetai~_ (Trophonios), Paus. 9, 36, 6. Saon, the discoverer of
the oracle and founder of the cult, had after entering the
~mantei=on~ met Trophonios himself in person, ~tê\n hierourgi/an . .
. didachthê=nai para\ tou= Trophôni/ou phasi/~ (Paus. 9, 40, 2). He
dwells and is visible in the oracular cavern: Orig., _Cels._ iii,
34, pp. 293-4 L.; vii, 35, p. 53; Aristid. i, p. 78 D. [38, 21
Keil]. Even the stupidly rationalising account of Troph. in Schol.
Ar., _Nub._ 508, p. 190 Ruth., Sch. Luc., _DM._ iii, Cosm. ad Greg.
Naz. p. 184 [Clarke, p. 52] (Eudoc., _Viol._, p. 682, 8)--implies
the bodily presence of an ~egkatoikê=san daimo/nion~ in the cave of
Trophonios. Lucian, too, shows that this was the popular impression
(_DM._ iii, 2) by his curious satiric fiction that whereas Troph.
himself was in Hades (to which acc. to _Necyom._ 22 the cave of
Trophonios was only an {106} entrance ~to\ thei=on hêmi/tomon~ of
Trophonios ~chra=| en Boiôti/a|~. Thus the visitor expected to meet
Trophonios there in his divine shape, as Ampelius puts it in a
similar case with great simplicity and directness, 8, 3: ibi (Argis
in Epiro Iovis templum hyphonis (irretrievably corrupt: _Trophonii_
absurdly Duker; _Typhonis_, _Tychonis_ others not much better) unde
est ad inferos descensus ad tollendas sortes: in quo loco dicuntur
ii qui descenderunt Iovem ipsum videre. Otherwise, Tr. was said to
inhabit the cave in the shape of a snake as is so frequently the
case with earth-deities. Not only are snakes sacred to him as to
Asklepios (Paus. 9, 39, 3) and live in his cave (to propitiate them
people take honey-cakes down with them) but he himself is present in
the form of a snake: ~o/phis ê=n ho manteuo/menos~, Schol. Ar.,
_Nub._ 508: cf. Suidas ~Trophô/nios~. It was this personal contact
between the god and the inquirer which specially distinguished the
oracle of Tr. ~mo/non ekei=no (to\ mantei=on) di' autou= chra=| tou=
chrôme/nou~. Philostr., _VA._ 8, 19, p. 335, 30 K. Of course, many
only _heard_ without seeing: ~tis kai\ ei=den kai\ a/llos ê/kousen~,
Paus. 9, 39, 11. But it was the god they heard.]
[13\3: Speaking of Zalmoxis among the Getae (cf. Str. 297 f.; 762;
Hdt. iv, 95-6. _EM._ ~Za/lm.~), Mopsos in Cilicia, Amphilochos in
Akarnania, Amphiaraos and Trophonios--in fact, all of them daimones
who had oracles of Incubation--Or. (_Cels._ iii, 34, p. 293-4 L.)
says: they have temples and ~aga/lmata~ as ~daimoni/ois ouk oi=d'
ho/pôs _hidrume/nois_ e/n tini to/pô|, ho\n . . . _oikou=sin_~. They
dwell within this ~he/na keklêrôme/non to/pon~, vii, 35 (pp. 53-4
L.), cf. iii, 35 fin. In that place and only there are such daimones
visible. _Cels._ vii, 35 (p. 53 L.), of the temples of Amph.,
Troph., Mops.: ~e/ntha phêsi\n anthrôpoeidei=s theôrei=sthai theou\s
kai\ ou pseudome/nous alla\ kai\ enargei=s. . . . o/psetai/ tis
autou\s ouch ha/pax pararrue/ntas . . . all' _a/ei_ toi=s
boulome/nois homilou=ntas~ (and so ever present there. Aristid. i,
p. 78 Di. [38, 21 K.], ~Amphia/raos kai\ Trophô/nios en Boiôti/a|
kai\ Amphi/lochos en Aitôli/a| chrêsmô|dou=si kai\ _phai/nontai_~.
On the extension beyond its original home of the cult of such an
Incubation-deity localization in a single spot was of course
relaxed. It was either disputed where his permanent habitation
really was (as in the case of Amph.), or else the god gradually
ceased to be bound to any one place, though still bound to certain
places in the sense that he could appear only there, and not
anywhere he chose. Such is the case with Asklepios and with various
other daimones equally bound originally to a single spot, who then
~epiphai/nontai, epiphoitô=sin~, in certain other temples as well
(cf. for example, the account of the ~epipha/neiai~ of Machaon and
Podaleirios in Adrotta given by Marin., _V. Procli_, 32; cf. Suid.
~Euste/phios~, from Damascius, _V. Isid._). But when inquiries are
made of a god by _Incubation_ the god must always appear in person;
if he is absent no oracle can be given. See the story of Amphiaraos
in Plu., _DO._ 5, p. 412 A. In the records of miracles of healing
found in Epidauros the god himself regularly comes to the sleeper in
the ~a/duton~ (or else in the form of a snake ~Eph. Arch.~ '83, p.
215 f., ll. 113-19), sometimes accompanied by his ~hupê/retai~ (the
Asklepiadai), cf. ~Eph. Arch.~ '85, p. 17 ff. ll. 38 ff., 111 f. In
the old miracle of Aristagora of Troezen (~Eph. Arch.~ '85, p. 15,
l. 10 ff.) reported already by Hippys of Rhegion (which there is no
reason to doubt) at first only "the sons of the god" appeared to the
sick woman ~ouk epidamou=ntos autou= all' en Epidau/rô| eo/ntos~.
Only in the following night did Asklepios himself appear to her
~hikô\n ex Epidau/rou~. Everywhere it is implied that dream-healing
can only take place through personal action of the god (cf. Ar.,
_Plut._); {107} later by the advice, at least, of the god,
personally appearing to the patient (see Zacher, _Hermes_, xxi, 472
f.); and this presumption is explained by the fact that originally
Incubation could only take place at the actual spot where the god
(or Hero) had his permanent abode.]
[14\3: The ~hupophê=tai~ of the Dodonian Zeus the ~Selloi/,
anipto/podes chamaieu=nai~, ~P~ 234 f., were explained by some
already in antiquity as priests of an Incubation oracle (Eust.,
_Il._, p. 1057, 64 ff.), Welcker agreeing with them, _Kl. Schr._
iii, 90 f. This view is founded solely on the adj. ~chamaieu=nai~,
which is not, however, to be separated from ~anipto/podes~. But
since ~anipto/podes~ can have no connexion with Incubation neither
then can ~chamaieu=nai~. Both epithets refer obviously to the
special severity and simplicity of the life of the ~Selloi/~, the
(ritual) reason for which it is true we do not know and have no
means of guessing.]
[15\3: It remains indeed impossible to determine what moved the epic
to recognize in the Boeotian cave-daimon the _Argive_ seer
Amphiaraos (even during his life-time an adept in the
incubation-mantic art acc. to Paus. 2, 13, 7; cf. Did. in _Gp._ 2,
35, 8, p. 73, 14 ff. Beckh), or why the heroized god Amphiaraos was
turned into an Argive and made a member of the prophetic family of
Melampous otherwise the foes of the Boeotian seers; or, finally, why
he was brought to Boeotia as an enemy and then made to dwell for
ever in that hostile and alien land.]
[16\3: Henry the Fowler in Sudemerberg: Kuhn and Schwartz, _Nordd.
Sag._, p. 185. The other examples in Grimm, ch. xxxii.--G. Voigt in
Sybel's _hist. Zeits._ xxvi (1871), pp. 131-87, shows in his most
lucid account that it was not originally Frederick Barbarossa but
Frederick II whom the legend represented as not dead but "lost" and
to whom the expectation referred that he would come again some day.
From the fifteenth century the story begins to appear that he was
dwelling in Kyffhäuser (or in a cave in the rocks near
Kaiserslautern); the name of Barbarossa does not appear till the
sixteenth century, and then gradually predominates. But how it came
about that from a definite moment onwards the translated emperor was
thought of as living on in a hollow mountain is by no means clear
from the written documents alone or from the critical study of the
evolution of the legend. Suddenly and without intermediate steps the
story assumes this shape, and it can hardly be accounted for except
on the view that it arose from the combination of the Frederick
legend with already existing Saga-stories of translated Heroes or
gods (as Voigt also suggests, p. 160).]
[17\3: Grimm, pp. 959-61. Simrock, _D. Myth._^3, p. 144.--How easily
similar legends can appear spontaneously among different peoples
without interconnexion appears from the fact that translation
legends are also found not only in Greece but in distant Mexico; see
Müller, _Gesch. am. Urrel._ 582. Holy men who have "vanished" and
are not dead but live on in the depths of mountain caves, and are
expected one day to reappear on earth, occur in the legends of
Mohammedan peoples of the East: A. v. Kremer, _Culturg. Streifz.
Geb. Islam_, 50; _Gesch. Ideen Islam_, 375 f., 378.]
[18\3: ~Dii\ Trephôni/oi~ Insc. from Lebadeia, Meister, _Böot.
Insc._ 423 (_GDI._ i, p. 163); otherwise only ~Trephôni/oi~ (n. 407,
414, ~kataba\s en Trephô/nion~ _BCH._ 1890, p. 21), ~Trophôni/ô|~
(n. 413); and side by side occur ~tu= Di\ tu= Basilei=i kê\ tu=
Trephôni/u~, etc. (n. 425, 429, 430). ~Dionu/sô eustaphu/lô kata\
chrêsmo\n Dio\s Trophôni/ou~ Insc. from Labadeia in Stephani _Reise
d. Geg. nörd. Griechen_, No. 47. Ins. from Leb. _IGSept._ i, 3077
(1st-2nd cent. A.D.)--Str. 414: ~Leba/deia ho/pou Dio\s Trophôni/ou
mantei=on hi/drutai~. {108} Liv. 45, 27, 8, Labadiae templum Iovis
Trophonii adiit. Obs. 50 (= 110) Lebadiae Eutychides in templum
Iovis Trophonii degressus--. ~Dio\s mantei=on~ is the name given to
the oracle of Tr. in Phot. also and Hesych. ~Leba/deia~.]
[19\3: ~Dio\s Amphiara/ou hiero/n~ (at Oropos): [Dicaearch.] _Descr.
Gr._ i, § 6 (i, 100 Mü.). Even Hyperides in the speech for
Euxenippos refers throughout to Amph. at Oropos as a god. Amph. in
Or. ~ho theo/s~ (1st-2nd cent. B.C.): _IGS._ i, 3498; 412; _CIG._
1570a, 25, 30, 52. Liv. 45, 27, 10 (in Oropos) pro deo vates
antiquus colitur. Cic. _Div._ i, 88: Amphiaraum sic honoravit fama
Græciæ, deus ut haberetur. Plutarch also, speaking of the embassy
sent by Mardonios to the ancient Theban oracle, calls Amph.
~theo/s~: _DO._ 5, p. 412 A. Acc. to Paus. 1, 34, 2, however, Amph.
was first honoured as a god in Oropos.]
[20\3: Origen is expressing it in his own way, but he is quite right
in principle when he distinguishes the local gods remaining in the
countryside from the gods of Olympos, _Cels._ iii, 35 fin.:
~mochthêrô=n daimo/nôn kai\ to/pous epi\ gê=s prokateilêpho/tôn,
epei\ tê=s katharôte/ras ou du/nantai epha/psasthai chô/ras kai\
theiote/ras~. He says of Asklepios, 5, 2 (p. 169 L.), ~theo\s me\n
a\n ei/ê aei\ de\ lachô\n oikei=n tê\n gê=n kai\ hôsperei\ phuga\s
tou= to/pou tô=n theô=n~.]
[21\3: ~Dio\s mega/lou oaristê/s~. The word implies quite as much
familiar conversation as well as general intimacy with Zeus. The
obscure ~enne/ôros~ need not be considered here. In any case it is
to be taken closely with ~basi/leue~, next to which it stands, and
not with ~Dio\s m. oaristê/s~ (as many even ancient writers have
done.]
[22\3: Intercourse of Minos with Zeus in the cave: [Pl.] _Min._ 319
E. (whence Str. 762), Ephorus ap. Str. 476; (from Eph. also Nic.
Dam. ap. Stob. _Fl._ iv, 2, 25, p. 161 H.). V.M. i, 2, ext. 1. Here
the position of the cave is as a rule not precisely stated. But the
Idaian cave is generally meant and Max. Tyr. definitely refers to
this one as the place where Minos met Zeus, 38, 2 (p. 221 R.).]
[23\3: Birth of Zeus in the cave: ~Aigai/ô| en o/rei~ Hes., _Th._
481 ff. Thence his mother bore him ~es Lu/kton~ 482 (cf. 477), which
would be near Ida:--~es Di/ktên~ Schömann. And, at any rate, the
cave on Mt. Dicte was the generally reputed place of Zeus' _birth_:
[Apoll.] 1, 1, 6. D.S. 5, 70, 6; Mela 2, 113; D.H. 2, 61 (who also
makes Minos visit Zeus there). At Praisos ~to\ tou= Diktai/ou Dio\s
hiero/n~: Str. 475-8. Others, indeed, mention Ida as the place of
the birth of Zeus: D.S. 5, 70, 2, 4; A.R. iii, 134. Both the holy
caves are thus continually rivals; but it appears that the legend of
the birth of Zeus was principally localized at the Diktaian cave,
that of his intercourse with Minos chiefly at the Idaian; cf. now
also M. Mayer, _Myth. Lex._ s. Kronos, ii, 1533 ff.]
[24\3: Max. Tyr. 16, 1 (cf. 38, 3; prob. from Max. only, Theod. Met.
_Misc._ c. 90, p. 580 Mü.). Cf. _Rh. Mus._ 35, 161 f. Max. speaks of
the cave of Diktaian Zeus, perhaps only inexactly and by oversight.
It would be to Ida rather and its cave which rose above Knossos, the
home of Epimenides, that the legend would make him go on pilgrimage.
So, too, D.L. viii, 1, 3, of Pythagoras, ~en Krê/tê| su\n
Epimeni/dê| katê=lthen eis to\ Idai=on a/ntron~. Pyth. in the Idaian
cave, Porph., _VP._ 17.]
[25\3: Schol. Plat., _Leg._ i, introd. (p. 372 Herm.) and _Leg._ 625
B, see Lob., _Agl._ 1121. (~Dio\s Idai/ou mu/stês~, Eur., _Cret.
fr._ 472, 10 N.) Recently the Idaian cave of Zeus has been
rediscovered high up in the mountains, a day's journey from Knossos
(Fabricius, _Ath. Mitth._, vol. x, 59 ff.). Remains of votive
offerings of antiquity have been {109} found, but only before the
entrance to the cave ~en tô=| stomi/ô| tou= a/ntrou~ (where Thphr.
had already remarked the like, _HP._ 3, 3, 4); inside the cave,
which, like a vaulted tomb, consisted of two chambers, only traces
of the cult from Roman times were found. It seems from this that the
sacrificial ritual of the previous period did not reach further than
the entrance of the cave (as was the case also at the temple of
Troph. at Lebadeia; while the interior of the cave as the seat of
the god himself was only entered by Mystai and priests (the
birth-chamber was not to be approached at all: Boios, ap. Ant. Lib.
19).]
[26\3: Porph., _VP._ 17, p. 25 N.: ~eis de\ to\ Idai=on kalou/menon
a/ntron kataba\s e/ria e/chôn me/lana ta\s nomizome/nas tri\s
enne/a~ (cf. Nauck on S., _OC._ 483) ~hême/ras ekei= die/tripsen
kai\ kathê/gisen tô=| Dii/, to/n te stornu/menon autô=| kat' e/tos
thro/non ethea/sato~. The historical truth of the story of Pyth.'s
visit to the cave need not be discussed here, but we may assume the
credibility of the details given of the cult of Zeus in the cave and
the customary ceremonial of pilgrimage to it. (The story comes from
relatively good sources, _Gr. Roman_, p. 254.)--The long time spent
in the cave (i.e. in the wide and lofty outer chamber) has its
companion picture in what Str. 649 says of ~Charô/nion~ at Acharaka,
Plu., _Gen. Soc._ 21, 590 B., of the cave of Trophonios. It was
necessary also to spend several days in the ~oi/kêma Dai/monos
agathou= kai\ Tu/chês~ in preparation for the descent into the cave:
Paus. 9, 39, 5. The (to Zeus) ~stornu/menos kat' e/tos thro/nos~ has
nothing to do with the Korybantic ~thronismo/s~ (see Hiller,
_Hermes_, 21, 365). What is meant is in any case a _lectisternium_:
thus in Athens it was usual to ~kli/nên strô=sai tô=| Plou/tôni~,
_CIA._ ii, 948-50; to Asklepios (_CIA._ ii, 453b 11): to Attis,
_CIA._ ii, 622; (in Cos at the ~xenismo/s~ of Herakles, _Ins. Cos_
36b, 22), etc. The ~thro/nos (strônu/ein _thro/nous_ du/o~ for a
goddess _CIA._ ii, 624, 9, 10) appearing instead of a ~kli/nê~ is
possibly in accordance with ancient ritual. Thus in the so-called
feasts of the dead in ancient times the Hero is represented on a
throne while later he reclines on the ~kli/nê~. Thus in Rome besides
_lectisternia_ we sometimes have _sellisternia_ especially for
female deities: _Comm. Lud. Saec._, l. 71; 101; 138 [Dessau, ii, 1,
p. 282; _CIL._ vi, 32] and elsewhere.]
[27\3: Acc. to Ennius, _Euh._ 73 Vahl. (ap. Lactant. i, 11, and ap.
Min. Fel. xxi, 1) Euhemeros spoke of the grave of Zeus. Call., _h.
Jov._ 8-9, clearly attacks the fable of Zeus' grave in Crete. It
seems to me very probable that Euh. had taken up the story as one
that evidently suited his cheap pragmatical interpretation of myths
and had introduced it into literature. It would be Euh. then whom
Call., loc. cit., was attacking as he did elsewhere the ~ge/rôn
alazô/n~ and his ~a/dika bibli/a~ (_fr._ 86).]
[28\3: The grave of Zeus in Crete is spoken of without exact
specification of the place by Call., loc. cit., Cic., _ND._ iii, 53;
D.S. 3, 61, 2; Mela ii, 112; Luc., _Tim._ 6, _J. Tr._ 45, _Sacr._
10, _D. Conc._ 6; Min. xxi, 8; Firm., _Err. Prof. Rel._ vii, 6.
Euhemeros ap. Min. xxi, 1, speaks of the _Dictæi Iovis sepulcrum_
obviously inexactly, for acc. to Lact. i, 11, he made the grave in
oppido Cnosso far from Mt. Dicte. Even there he means not "in" but
"near" Knossos, i.e. on Mt. Ida. For the fact that it was on Mt. Ida
we have the testimony of Varro _de litoralibus_ ap. Solin. 11, p.
81, 12-15 Momms. Finally, the situation of the grave within the
Idaian cave is clear from Porph., _VP._ 17, p. 25 N.]
[29\3: Hence the story of the grave of Zeus (when not denied
outright as by Call.) was allegorized; Celsus hinted at ~tropika\s
huponoi/as~: Or., _Cels._ iii, 43, p. 307 L.; cf. Philostr., _VS._
p. 76, 15 ff. K.] {110}
[30\3: Examples are frequent in the mythology of Oriental, and
generally but not exclusively Semitic peoples. It is generally
"Kronos" who is buried (cf. Mayer, _Myth. Lex._ ii, 1487 ff.); at
other times Astarte, Adonis, the Phrygian Attis, "Herakles," and
others. Cf. also the stories of the Heroes sleeping eternally in
Sardinia (_Rh. Mus._ 35, 157 ff.; 37, 465 ff.); and of Kragos and
the other ~a/grioi theoi/~ (or ~theoi\ agrei=s~? _JHS._ 10, 57, 55)
who "were made immortal" on Mt. Kragos in Lykia (St. Byz.
~Kra/gos~): they, too, were thought of as sleeping, and not "dead",
as Eust. on D.P. 847 expresses it.]
[31\3: Varro, _LL._ vii, 17, p. 124 Sp.^2, compares the shape of the
Omphalos with a _thesaurus_, i.e. with one of the vaulted buildings
which used to be called treasuries, but which have now been
undoubtedly proved to be really vaulted graves. On a smaller scale
(as vase paintings show) the ~omphalo/s~ had the shape generally
given to the dwelling-places made for the spirits of the departed
who dwelt below the earth, as well as that of the abodes of other
earth-spirits; even the ~cha/sma gê=s~ over the cavern of Trophonios
was of this shape, Paus. 9, 39, 10. Was this dome-shape especially
connected with earth-spirits who had mantic powers? The Delphic
"omphalos" was even used as a technical expression to describe this
"tholos" shape; thus the ~omphaloi/~ (of ~phia/lai~) ~kai\ tô=n
balanei/ôn hoi _tho/loi_ paro/moioi~, Ath. 501 D. E. (cf. Hesych.
~Balaneiompha/lous~, _AB._ 225, 6). It was called ~omphalo/s Gê=s~
because sacred to the earth-goddess. It was later interpreted
"navel", i.e. middle point of the earth, by mistake, and then
fabulous accounts made up to explain this.]
[32\3: Modern writers have adopted the view that Dionysos was buried
under the Omphalos: e.g. Enmann, _Kypros u. Ursp. Aphrod._, S.
Petersb., 1886, p. 47 ff. But closer examination shows that all that
we have good authority for is that the ~omphalo/s~ was _Pythonis
tumulus_ (Varro, _LL._ vii, 17, p. 124 Sp.), ~ta/phos tou=
Pu/thônos~ (Hesych. s. ~Toxi/ou bouno/s~). _Dionysos_, on the other
hand, was buried at Delphi, ~para\ to\n Apo/llôna to\n chrusou=n~
(Philochoros ap. Sync. 307, 4 ff. Di.; Eus. Arm. = Hier. _Chr._, pp.
44-5 Sch.; Malal., p. 45, 7 Di., from Africanus acc. to Gelzer,
_Afric._ i, 132 f.), i.e. he was buried in the ~a/duton~ (cf. Paus.
10, 24, 5), or, what comes to the same thing, ~para\ to\
chrêstê/rion~ (Plu., _Is. et O._ 35, 365 A.), ~para\ to\n tri/poda~
(Call. ap. Tz. Lyc. 208; cf. _E.M._ ~Delphoi/~). The tripod stood in
the Adyton (D.S. 16, 26; Str. 419; cf. Hdt. vii, 140). Whether the
~omphalo/s~ also stood in the Adyton (or whether as some think, in
the _Cella_ of the Temple) cannot be made out for certain though it
seems probable. No one, however, made the grave of Dionysos under
the Omphalos except Tat., _Gr._ viii, p. 40 Ott. [p. 9, 16 ff.
Schw.]: ~ho omphalo\s ta/phos esti\ Dionu/sou~, and the statement of
this very careless pamphleteer cannot stand against the witness of
Varro, etc. It is plain that Tatian confused the two "graves", as
Hyg. 140 and Serv. (_A._ iii, 92; iii, 360; vi, 347) did, reversing
the process and making the tripod into the grave of the Python. The
real tradition knew, besides the grave of Dionysos near the tripod,
the grave of Python in the Omphalos of his mother Gaia. This was
never seriously denied; doubt might rather have been believed to
linger over the question, who then was preserved in the tripod?
Porph., _VP._ 18, p. 25, 6 ff. N., says that it was Apollo himself,
or possibly _an_ Apollo the son of Silenos. This absurdity seems to
go back to Euhemeros (cf. Minuc. xxi, 1; worthless is Fulgentius
_Expos._, 2, p. 769 Stav. = p. 112, 3 ff. Helm), and may be merely a
frivolous jest. (Too much respect is paid to this tradition by K. O.
Müller, _Introd. to Scient. Myth._, p. 246.)] {111}
[33\3: That the snake killed by Apollo was the guardian of the old
~mantei=on chtho/nion~ we have on unimpeachable authority (testim.
collected by Th. Schreiber, _Apollo Pythoktonos_, p. 3): esp. Eur.,
_IT._ 1245 ff. Call., _fr._ 364; ~poiêtai/~ acc. to Paus. 10, 6, 6,
who say that ~(to\n Pu/thôna) epi\ tô=| mantei/ô| phu/laka hupo\ Gê=s
teta/chthai ktl.~ That the struggle was for the oracle is shown
briefly and plainly by [Apollod.] 1, 4, 1, 3: ~hôs de\ ho phrourô=n
to\ mantei=on Pu/thôn o/phis ekô/luen auto\n (Apo/llôna) parelthei=n
epi\ to\ cha/sma~ (the oracular cleft), ~tou=ton anelô/n to\
mantei=on paralamba/nei~. The snake form is proper to earth-spirits,
and, as earth-spirits always have mantic power, to oracle-spirits.
Trophonios appeared as a snake and so did Asklepios. There can be no
doubt that the Delphian ~dra/kôn~ is the embodiment of the
pre-Apolline oracle-daimon. Thus Hesych. says exactly ~Pu/thôn
daimo/nion mantiko/n~ (elaborated in Hyg. 140). Cf. _Act._
16^16.--Supporters of the doctrine of the Greek "religion of Nature"
find even in the legend of Apollo's fight with the snake an
allegorical version of a physical fact tending to become an ethical
one. I cannot regard such an allegory as primitive.]
[34\3: An instructive parallel may be added. In [Clem.] _Hom._ 5,
22, p. 70, 32 Lag., there is mention of a _grave_ of Plouton ~en
tê=| Acherousi/a| li/mnê|~. This may be explained as follows. At
Hermione Hades under the name of Klymenos was honoured together with
Demeter ~Chthoni/a~ and Kore. Pausanias knew well that Klymenos was
a titular name (~epi/klêsis~) of Hades (2, 35, 9), but his rejection
of the opinion that Klymenos was a man from Argos who had come to
Hermione (as founder of the Chthonic cult) shows that this was the
general view. Behind the temple of Chthonia lay ~chôri/a ha\
kalou=sin Hermionei=s to\ me\n Klume/nou, to\ de\ Plou/tônos, to\
tri/ton de\ autôn _li/mnên Acherousi/an_~. At this ~li/mnê
Acherousi/a~ it is possible that a _grave_ of Hades, transformed
into the Hero Klymenos, may have been shown. This Clemens referred
to, but instead of Klymenos or Hades used inaccurately the name more
familiar to later times, Plouton.]
[35\3: ~ka\d d' en Athê/nê|s' ei=sen, heô=| eni\ pi/oni nêô=|~.
These words may be kept in mind in order to explain the mysterious
narrative in Hesiod _Th._ 987 ff. of Phaethon whom Aphrodite ~ô=rt'
anereipsame/nê kai/ min zathe/ois eni\ nê/ois nêopo/lon mu/chion
poiê/sato, dai/mona di=on~. Aphr., in fact. "translated" Phaethon
alive and made him immortal--within her own temple just as Athene
had Erechtheus. Perhaps Phaethon was translated beneath the ground
under the temple--the adj. ~mu/chion~ may mean this. ~theoi\
mu/chioi~ are those that rule over the ~mucho/s~ of a house, e.g.
over the ~tha/lamos~ as the inmost chamber: thus ~Aphrodi/tê
muchi/a~ (Ael., _HA._ x, 34). ~Lêtô\ muchi/a~ (Plu. ap. Eus., _PE._
iii, 1, 3, p. 84 c.). A goddess called simply ~Muchi/a~, ins. fr.
Mytilene, _GDI._ 255. But ~mu/chioi~ could also mean dwellers in the
depths of the earth (~muchô=| chthono\s euruodei/ês~, Hes., _Th._
119; more commonly in the plural ~muchoi\ chthono/s~, see Markland
on Eur., _Sup._ 545; cf. ~A/ïdos mucho/s~, _AP._ vii, 213, 6
(Archias); also ~mucho\s eusebe/ôn, athana/tôn~ under the earth,
_Epigr. Gr._ 241 _a_, 18; 658 _a_; _Rh. Mus._ 34, 192). Thus (of the
Erinyes) Orph. _H._ 69, 3, ~mu/chiai, hupo\ keu/thesin oiki/'
e/chousai a/ntrô| en êero/enti~. Phot. 274, 18, ~mucho/pedon; gê=s
ba/thos, Ha/idês.~]
[36\3: That the ~mi/n~ of line 550 refers to Erechtheus and not
Athene is shown by the context: Schol. BL. states it expressly.
Athene cannot have been intended to accept the offering of bulls and
rams, for ~thê/lea tê=| Athêna=| thu/ousin~. And, in fact, cows, not
bulls, were offered to Athene; cf. P. Stengel, _quaest. sacr._, p.
4-5, Berl. 1879.]
[37\3: See Wachsmuth, _Ber. sächs. Ges. Wiss._, p. 399 ff., 1887.]
{112}
[38\3: Thus there was, at the temple of Palaimon on the Isthmus, an
~a/duton kalou/menon, ka/thodos de\ es auto\ hupo/geôs, e/ntha dê\
to\n Palai/mona _kekru/phthai_~ (i.e. not dead and buried)
~phasi/n~. Paus. 2, 2, 1.]
[39\3: ~cha/sma kru/ptei chthono/s~, Eur. _Ion_, 292.--Erechtheus ab
Iove Neptuni rogatu fulmine est ictus, Hyg. 46. That is only another
kind of translation.]
[40\3: We need not here speak of the relationship between Erechtheus
and Poseidon, with whom he was eventually merged.]
[41\3: Clem. Al. _Protr._ iii, p. 39 P. (with Arnob. and the others
who copy him); [Apollod.] 3, 14, 7, 1. Clemens (quoting Antiochos of
Syracuse mentions a grave of Kekrops on the citadel. It is uncertain
what is the relation between this and the ~Kekro/pion~ known from
insc. _CIA._ i, 322, and ~to\ tou= Ke/kropos hiero/n~ on the citadel
(Decree honouring the Epheboi of the tribe Kekropis in the year 333:
_BCH._ '89, p. 257. l. 10).]
[42\3: ~Huakinthi/ois pro\ tê=s tou= Apo/llônos thusi/as es tou=ton
Huaki/nthô| to\n bômo\n dia\ thu/ras chalkê=s enagi/zousin; en
aristera=| de/ estin hê thu/ra tou= bômou=~. Paus. 3, 19, 3. We
shall meet with similar examples in treating of the sacrifices made
to Heroes. This naive sacrificial rite regularly presumes the
physical presence of the god or "spirit" in the place underground
into which the offerings are poured or thrown (as in the ~me/gara~
of Demeter and Kore, etc.).]
[43\3: The story of Hyakinthos is found in its familiar form in the
poets of the Hellenistic period and their imitators, Nikander, Bion,
Ovid, etc.: already Simmias and Euphorion had told it (see Welcker,
_Kl. Sch._ i, 24 ff.; and G. Knaack, _Anal. Alexandrino-romana_, p.
60 ff.). It may even reach back to earlier times; the death of H.
caused by Apollo's discus-throw is mentioned by Eur., _Hel._ 1472
ff., though he does not speak of the love of Apollo for H. As the
story was generally given, and, indeed, as it had already been
implicitly told by Nikias, it had no local colouring and no
importance as local legend. It was not ever even an aetiological
myth for it could only account in the most general way for the
melancholy character of the Hyakinthos festival and not at all for
the peculiar features of its ritual. It is an erotic myth leading up
to a metamorphosis, like so many others of its kind, in substance,
it is true, closely related the Linos myth, etc., with which it is
generally compared--and in accordance with the fashionable theory
interpreted as an allegory of the spring blossom fading beneath the
heat of the sun. It is, in fact, a regular mythological theme (the
death through the cast of the discus occurring for example in the
stories of Akrisios, Kanobos, Krokos [see Haupt, _Opusc._ iii, 574
f. In Philo ap. Galen, xiii, 268, read v. 13 ~êïthe/oio~, v. 15
perhaps ~kei/nou dê\ stathmo/n~]). We cannot tell how far the flower
Hyakinthos had anything to do with the Amyklaian Hyakinthos (cf.
Hemsterhuis, _Lucian_ ii, p. 291 Bip.); perhaps nothing at
all--there were no hyacinths used in the Hyakinthia. The similarity
of the name may have suggested this addition to the metamorphosis
story to the Hellenistic poets.]
[44\3: Certainly not as Apollo's ~erô/menos~ (as which Hauser,
_Philol._ 52, 218, in spite of the beard, regards the Hyakinthos of
the Amyklaian altar). Bearded ~paidika/~ are unthinkable as every
reader of the Anth. Pal. knows. The most ancient form of the story,
as implied in the sculpture at Amyklai, neither knows anything of
the love of Apollo and Hyakinthos nor consequently of the latter's
early death, etc.]
[45\3: The ~Huakinthi/des~ at Athens were regarded as the daughters
(strangely migrated to Athens) of the "Lacedaemonian" Hyakinthos.
i.e. the one buried in Amyklai. See St. Byz. ~Lousi/a~; Harp. {113}
~Huakinthi/des~; [Apollod.] 3, 15, 8, 5-6; Hyg. 238 (Phanodemos ap.
Suid. ~Parthe/noi~ arbitrarily identifies the ~Huakinthi/des~ with
the ~Hua/des~ or daughters of Erechtheus. So also [Dem.] 60, 27).
This idea implies a form of the story in which Hyak. did not die
while still a boy or a half-grown youth as in the metamorphosis
version.--That the figure of Hyakinthos on the sculpture at Amyklai
had a beard is expressly mentioned by Paus. 3, 19, 4, as conflicting
with the fresh youthfulness of Hyakinthos as Nikias (second half
fourth century) with reference to the love-story had represented him
in his famous picture (~prôthê/bên Hua/kinthon~, Nic., _Th._ 905).
Paus. § 5, expressly raises a doubt as to the truth of the
traditional fable about H.'s death.]
[46\3: ~pro\ tê=s tou= Apo/llônos thusi/as~ Paus. 3, 19, 3. More
than once it is stated that at a particular festival sacrifice to
the Hero preceded that to the god (cf. Wassner, _de heroum ap. Gr.
cultu_, p. 48 ff.). Probably the reason in all such cases is that
the cult of the "Hero" (or god turned Hero is _older_ in that
particular spot than the worship of the god whose cult had only been
adopted there at a later time. Thus in Plataea at the Daidalia
sacrifice was made to Leto before Hera (~prothu/esthai~): Plu. ap.
Eus., _PE._ iii, 84 C: there it is quite evident that the cult of
Hera was adopted later. Perhaps even the form of the word
~Hua/kinthos~ implies that it was the name of an ancient deity
worshipped already by the pre-Greek inhabitants of the Peloponnese.
See Kretschmer, _Einl. in Gesch. gr. Spr._ 402-5.]
[47\3: ~Huaki/nthô| enagi/zousin~, Paus. 3, 19, 3.]
[48\3: The second day of the festival was sacred to Apollo and not
to Hyakinthos: ~to\n theo\n a/|dousin~ Ath. 139 E. (It has been
rightly said that this was when the ~paia/n~ mentioned by Xen.,
_HG._ 4, 5, 11, must have been sung.) It is impossible to deny, with
Unger, _Philol._ 37, 30, the cheerful character of this second day
of the festival as described by Polykrates ap. Ath. 139 E, F. It is
true that Didymus (whose words Athenaeus is quoting) begins in a way
(139 D) that might lead one to suppose that all three days of the
~tô=n Huakinthi/ôn thusi/a dia\ to\ pe/nthos to\ geno/menon
(gino/menon?) peri\ to\n Hua/kinthon~ were passed in gloom without
festivity, crowns, feasting, or Paean, etc. But he refutes himself
afterwards in his description of the second day of the festival, at
which not merely at the performances but at the sacrifice and the
banquetings festivity reigns supreme. We can only suppose that his
language at the beginning is inaccurate, and that he means what he
says of the solemnity of the occasion "because of the mourning for
Hyakinthos" to be taken as limited like the mourning itself to the
first day of the feast.]
[49\3: Hesych. ~Polu/boia; theo/s tis hup' eni/ôn A/rtemis, hupo\
de\ a/llôn Ko/rê~. Cf. K. O. Müller, _Dorians_, i, 361 (~A/rtemis~
there probably as Hekate).]
[50\3: Another view of the combined worship of Apollo and Hyakinthos
at Amyklai is taken by Enmann, _Kypros_, etc., 35. In this as
elsewhere he relies on certain opinions adopted from H. D. Müller's
mythological writings, which must be approved of in general before
they can be found enlightening as applied to any particular case.]
[51\3: As happened in the case of Hyakinthos, too, in the scene
represented on the Amyklaian altar, Paus. 3, 19, though nothing can
be deduced from this as to his original nature.]
[52\3: The oracular activity of Asklepios plays a subordinate part
in the usual accounts of him in comparison with his powers of
healing. But originally they were closely united (as was usually the
case with earth spirits). Apollodorus ~p. theô=n~ ap. Macrob. 1, 20,
4, puts it {114} distinctly: scribit quod Aesculapius divinationibus
et auguriis praesit. Celsus calls Asklepios ~euergetou=nta kai\ ta\
me/llonta prole/gonta ho/lais po/lesin anakeime/nais heautô=|~, Or.,
_Cels._ iii, 3, pp. 255-6 L.]
[53\3: See Appendix I.]
[54\3: Cicero quoting the pragmatical "_theologi_" says, _ND._ iii,
57, Aesculapius (the second one fulmine percussus dicitur humatus
esse Cynosuris (the district of Sparta? From a similar source come
Clem. Al., _Protr._ ii, p. 26 P.; Lyd., _Mens._ iv, 90, p. 164
Wünsch); of the third Askl., Cic. § 57 says: cuius in Arcadia non
longe a Lusio flumine sepulcrum et lucus ostenditur. Even the temple
of Asklepios in Epidauros was regarded by many as the place of his
grave if we are to believe the Clementine _Hom._ v, 21, _Rec._ x, 24
(sepulcrum demonstrator in Epidauro Aesculapii).]
[55\3: The chthonic character of Asklepios is shown specially by the
fact that not only are snakes sacred and dedicated to him but that
he himself was actually thought of as a snake (cf. Welcker,
_Götterl._ ii, 734). ~o/phis, Gê=s pai=s~ (Hdt. i, 78); deities who
dwell in the earth, and afterwards "Heroes" (in the later sense),
appear in the form of snakes as ~chtho/nioi~. Since such
earth-spirits generally have oracular powers the snake is an
oracular animal; but that is a secondary development. The offer of a
cock, too (as by Sokrates before his departure to the underworld),
points to the chthonic character of Ask., for it was a sacrifice
also made to Heroes. Thus the ~hêrô=|a~ at Athens were frequented by
the priests of Asklepios (_CIA._ ii, 453 b); cf. Köhler, _Ath.
Mitth._ vol. ii, 245 f. (Sacrificial pit, ~bo/thros~, for this
chthonic worship in the Asklepieion at Athens? see Köhler, ib.
254.)]
[56\3: The connexion between Amphiaraos and Asklepios is shown also
by the fact that Iaso, one of the allegorical figures attached to
Asklepios, though generally the daughter of Askl. (e.g. _EM._ 434,
17 ~Iasô/~ with Sylb.; cf. Herond. iv, 6), was probably also
regarded as the daughter of Amph.: Sch. Ar., _Plut._ 701. Hesych.
s.v. (her portrait in the temple at Oropos, Paus. 1, 34, 3). So,
too, ~A/lkandros~ the son of Trophonios (Charax. ap. Schol. Ar.,
_Nub._, 508, p. 500 Bk.) seems to be the same as ~A/lkôn~, the
Asklepiad daimon whose priest Sophokles was. The portraits of
Trophonios followed the type of the Asklepios statues: Paus. 9, 39,
3-4. Troph. son of Valens (= Ischys) and Koronis, and brother of
Asklepios: Cic., _ND._ iii, 56, acc. to the _theologi_. With good
reason, considering their intrinsic affinity, Trophonios,
Amphiaraos, Amphilochos, and the Asklepiadai are mentioned side by
side by Aristid. i, p. 78 D.]
[57\3: Sulla counted Amphiaraos a "god" and hence the territory
belonging to his temple at Oropos was excepted from the lease for
the collection of taxes granted to the Roman _publicani_. The Roman
Senate allowed this to stand, ins. from Oropos ~Eph. Arch.~, 1884,
p. 101 ff.; _Hermes_, 20, 268 ff.; the publicani had denied
immortalis esse ullos qui aliquando homines fuissent, Cic., _ND._
iii, 49. Thus only the fact that he was _now_ a god was claimed by
the other side--it was not denied that he had once been a mortal.
Paus. again 8, 2, 4, mentions Amph. among the ~theoi/~ who
~egi/nonto ex anthrô/pôn~; so too Varro ap. Serv. _A._ viii, 275;
cf. Apul., _D. Soc._ 15 fin.; also Philo, _Leg. ad Gaium_, § 78, ii,
p. 557 M.]
{{115}}
CHAPTER IV
HEROES
§ 1
When about the year 620 Drakon at Athens for the first time
collected and committed to writing the customary law of his country
he also ordained that the gods and the national Heroes should be
honoured together according to ancestral usage.[1\4]
We are thus for the first time introduced to _Heroes_ as beings of a
higher kind, mentioned side by side with the gods, and like them to
be worshipped with regularly offered sacrifice. Their cult, like
that of the gods, is by implication of long standing: it does not
have to be reorganized, but is merely established in the form
ancestral ordinances had given it. We see at this turning-point of
Greek religious development how defective our knowledge is of the
history of religious ideas in primitive Greece. This is our earliest
record, and it has been preserved to us by a mere accident, but it
points backwards and beyond itself to a long previous history in the
worship of such guardian deities of the country--of which, however,
we have hardly a scrap of early evidence.[2\4] We should in fact,
from the meagre remains of the literature that is so important from
this point of view, especially the lyric poetry of the seventh and
early sixth centuries, hardly have derived a suspicion of the
existence of this quite un-Homeric element in the religious life of
Greece.[3\4] When at last the stream of surviving literature begins
to flow more broadly, then, indeed, the Heroes are often referred
to. Pindar's Hymns of Victory and Herodotos' History cover the
generations that lived through the Persian wars and the following
fifty years. From them we can see with overwhelming distinctness how
strong at that time was the belief in the existence and potency of
Heroes even among men of education who had not been too much
influenced by the fashionable enlightenment of the time. In the
beliefs of the people, in the religious customs of countries and
cities, the national Heroes have their recognized place beside the
gods. The representatives of states swear by the gods and the Heroes
of the country:[4\4] it is to the gods and Heroes of Greece that the
pious attribute the victory over the Barbarians.[5\4] So well
established, indeed, was the validity of the Greek belief in Heroes
that even the Persian magi in the army of Xerxes made libation by
night in the Troad to the Heroes buried there.[6\4] {116}
§ 2
If now we inquire into the nature and essence of this species of
higher beings that was as yet unknown to, or disregarded by, the
epic we get little information on the subject from direct statements
as to their nature by writers of antiquity. We can, however, learn a
great deal about them from what we are told of individual Heroes and
more particularly from what we know of the peculiar nature of the
religious worship paid to them.[7\4] The Heroes were worshipped with
sacrifice like the gods; but these sacrifices were very different
from the offerings that were made to the Olympians.[8\4] They differ
in time, place, and character. Sacrifice was made to the gods in
broad daylight, to Heroes towards evening or at night;[9\4] and not
on raised altars, but on low, and sometimes hollow, sacrificial
hearths close to the ground.[10\4] For them were slain animals of
black colour and male sex,[11\4] and in sacrificing, the heads of
the animals were not turned upwards towards heaven as they were when
offered to the gods, but were bent down to the ground.[12\4] The
blood of these animals was allowed to run down into the ground or
into the sacrificial hearth, that the Heroes might have their
"appeasement of blood".[13\4] The carcass was completely burnt, for
no living man might taste of it.[14\4] This peculiar mode of
worshipping the Heroes was in strict usage described by a different
name from that used of the sacrifices to the gods.[15\4] On special
occasions a sacrificial meal of cooked food was prepared, to which
the Hero was invited as a guest.[16\4] They are near by in the earth
itself, and there is no need in their case, as for the Olympians, to
send up the savour of sacrifice in smoke to heaven.
This sacrificial ritual is in those features which distinguish it
from that commonly in use for the gods of Olympos precisely
identical with that by which the gods who dwelt under the earth,
and, later, even the souls of dead men, were honoured. This will
seem quite natural if we regard the Heroes as closely related to the
chthonic deities on the one hand, and to the dead on the other. In
fact, they are nothing else than the spirits of dead men who now
dwell beneath the earth, immortal like the gods of that underworld,
and almost equal to them in power. Their real nature as the souls of
great men of the past, who have died but have not been deprived of
conscious existence, is made plain by another mode of doing honour
to them originally belonging to them and them only--I mean the
yearly repeated celebration of Funeral Games.
Athletic contests for chieftains at the funeral of a prominent {117}
one of their number were known to Homer, and we have already
referred to them among other relics in epic poetry of a once
powerful cult of souls.[17\4] But Homer knew nothing of their
repetition, and certainly not of an annual recurrence of such
funeral celebrations.[18\4] Games celebrated afresh after the lapse
of a definite period became known to the Greeks only when the cult
of Heroes had reached its maturity. Many of these contests were
connected perpetually with the yearly festivals of individual
Heroes, and were intended to honour their memory.[19\4] Even in
historical times, generally on the command of the Delphic oracle,
annual contests were instituted in honour of Heroes.[20\4] It was
the mode of worship proper to Heroes, and men realized that in
holding such contests they were really repeating the funeral
ceremonies of a dead man.[21\4] The cult of Heroes was the earliest
breeding ground of the Agôn, that most characteristic feature of
Greek life and school of the individualism that made the greatness
of Greece. It was not unreasonable that afterwards many of the
victors at the great Agônes were themselves raised by popular
superstition to the number of the Heroes. The greatest Games of all,
to which all Greece assembled, the Pythian, Olympian, Nemean, and
Isthmian, were during the historical period, it is true, celebrated
in honour of gods; but that they had been originally instituted as
Funeral Games of Heroes and only subsequently transferred to higher
guardianship was, at any rate, the general opinion of
antiquity.[22\4]
§ 3
The Heroes are, then, spirits of the dead, and not a species of
inferior deities or "demigods";[23\4] and quite distinct again from
the "daimones" known to later speculative thought and, indeed, to
popular superstition. These latter are divine spirits of a lower
order; but spirits which have always been exempt from death because
they have never entered into the finite existence of men. The Heroes
on the other hand have once been living men; from being men they
have _become_ Heroes, and that only after their death.[24\4]
Furthermore, they have now entered upon a higher stage of existence
as a special class of beings who are named by the _side_ of gods and
men.[25\4] In them we meet with something quite unknown to the
Homeric poems--_souls_ which after their death and separation from
the body have a higher imperishable life.
But though the Heroes have once been men, it does not follow that
all men become Heroes after their death. On the contrary, the
Heroes, even though their number was not fixed {118} and limited,
but continually admitted additions, remained an _exception_, a
select minority which for that reason alone can be contrasted with
ordinary humanity. The chief figures, the outstanding
representatives of this heroic company, we may say, were those whose
lifetime was fixed by legend or history in the distant past--who
were in fact the ancestors of later humanity. The worship of Heroes
is not, then, a cult of souls, but in a narrower sense a cult of
_ancestors_. Even their name, as it appears, distinguishes the
Heroes as men of the past. In the Iliad and the Odyssey "Hero" is
the honourable title of chieftains, and also, generally, of all free
men.[26\4] Poetry of later centuries, so far as it touched upon the
events of the legendary past, continued to use the word "Hero" in
this sense. But when in post-Homeric times the speaker, whether he
is a poet or prose-writer, regards the matter from the point of view
of contemporary life, then by "Hero", if he is referring to a man at
all, he means a man of those days when, according to the Homeric
poems, this honourable title was still in use among living men--he
refers in a word to men belonging to the legendary _past_ celebrated
in poetry.[27\4] In Hesiod's narrative of the Five Ages of Men, the
use of the word Hero is confined to the Champions of the wars at
Thebes and Troy; they are called, as though by their special name,
the "divine race of Heroes".[28\4] For Hesiod the "Heroes" are by no
means the transfigured dead of past generations.[29\4] He knows well
enough of such transfigured dead of a still earlier past, but these
he calls "Daimones". And so, too, when in after times the name of
Hero is applied to these favoured individuals who enjoy a higher
life after their death, the name which in itself did not imply the
higher nature of such departed spirits is evidently intended to show
that the _lifetime_ of those who had received this privilege after
their death occurred in a legendary past. As these men of the
distant past had been "Heroes" during their life, so, too, they must
be called after their death. But the meaning of the word Hero has
undergone a change, and now contains the additional notion of
unending transfigured existence. The worship of the Heroes reveals
itself as something quite new, a form of religious belief and cult,
of which the Homeric poems at least gave no inkling. And, indeed,
the conception of such transfigured ancestral souls living on in a
higher state must have been a novel one, if no special word of
ancient coinage could be found to express it, and a long-standing
word of the epic vocabulary had to be pressed into a new sense.
Whence came this new thing? If we try to derive it from {119} a
natural process of development in the Homeric view of life we shall
find ourselves in the greatest perplexity when it comes to showing
the connecting links between two such widely different conceptions.
It would not avail us much to say that the prestige of the epic was
such that those whom it had honoured in song must have appeared so
glorious and distinguished among mankind that it was natural for
later imagination to transform them to demigods and to worship them
as such. The Homeric poems, so violently opposed to any idea of a
conscious or active existence of the soul after death, could hardly
have brought it about that those very champions whom it had
represented as indeed dead and departed to the distant land of Hades
should be regarded as still living and exercising an influence from
out their graves. Moreover, it is in the highest degree improbable
that in the process of historical development it should have been
just the champions of the epic from whose worship the cult of Heroes
arose; for in cult, at any rate, with negligible exceptions, those
champions played little part. And, indeed, that any cult at all
should have arisen from the mere suggestions of fancy, such as the
epic offered, is in itself unlikely. And it is essentially upon a
religious cult that the belief in Heroes is founded.
In fact after all that has been hitherto shown, what we see most
plainly is the _contrast_ between the belief in Heroes and Homeric
conceptions. The fanciful thought of the translation of individuals
to Islands of the Blest or the underground dwellings did not itself
conflict with the implications of Homeric eschatology. The
miraculous preservation in an immortal existence of men whom the
gods loved did not involve the separation of soul from body, nor the
consequence of that separation--the dim borderland existence of the
disembodied soul. But the belief in Heroes was a different matter;
that involved the continuation of a conscious mode of being, in the
neighbourhood of the living, after death, and in spite of the
separation of soul from body. This directly contradicts Homeric
psychology. We should have to give up the attempt altogether to
bring this new belief into any real relationship with earlier
development--if we could not draw upon what we have learnt from our
previous investigations. In the Homeric poems themselves, in
striking contrast with the general conception there prevailing of
the insubstantiality of the disembodied soul, we found vestiges of a
once-vigorous _cult of the soul_ which implied the existence of a
corresponding belief in the conscious after-life of the soul and its
lingering {120} in the neighbourhood of the living. From the study
of Hesiod's picture of the Five Ages of Men, we saw that, in fact,
vestiges of an ancient belief in the continued and enhanced
existence of dead men, of which no clear trace remained in Homer,
had been preserved at least in occasional remote corners of the
Greek countryside. But it was only the dead of a legendary past who
were regarded by Hesiod as "Daimones": the poet could relate no
similar marvels from more recent periods, and still less of men in
his own lifetime. Thus, we have in this case traces of
_ancestor-worship_ indeed, but not of a general worship of souls
that is elsewhere the normal development of the worship of
ancestors. So, then, in the worship of Heroes, what we have before
us is not a general cult of the soul but a cult of ancestors. We may
express the matter in this way: in the cult of the "Hero" a still
burning spark of ancient belief is kindled to renewed flame--it is
not the appearance of something entirely strange and new, but
something long past and half-forgotten is awakened to new life.
Those Daimones which arose from the men of the earlier golden and
silver ages--whom the poet of the "Works and Days" had situated in
the dimmest and remotest past--what are they but the "Heroes"
worshipped by later ages under a new name and brought down nearer to
the period of contemporary life?
§ 4
How it came about that the cult of ancestors was rescued from
partial, and more than partial, oblivion, and rose to a new and
lasting importance, that, indeed, we cannot say. We can give no real
explanation indicative of the origin and progress of this important
development in Greek religious life. We know neither the time nor
the place of the first serious revival of this newly awakened
primitive worship; nor can we tell the manner or stages of its
diffusion during those obscure years of the eighth and seventh
centuries. We can, however, bring the fact of the revival of
ancestor-worship into relation with a number of other facts which
prove that during those years many hitherto buried or repressed
ideas about the life of gods and men came to the surface again out
of the depths of popular faith and out of an older worship of the
gods that had never quite died out. This revival did not, indeed,
suppress the Homeric view entirely--that never occurred--but it did
set itself on a level with that view. The great movement with which
we shall be dealing in the next chapter also contributed to the
progress of the belief in Heroes. Many other favouring {121}
circumstances may in detail have helped to strengthen that belief.
Even the epic itself had in one point at least approached the ideas
that were receiving a new life in the worship of Heroes. Many of the
local gods who had faded before the new deities of common Hellenic
belief had been reduced to the rank of humanity and joined in heroic
adventure. By a sort of compromise effected with the local cult of
such gods the epic poets had been led, in a few cases, to the
creation of a remarkable series of figures in which the divine and
the human was wonderfully mixed. These champions and seers of old
time, as they had once been mortal men among other men, so now after
their departure must they live on and have influence eternally like
the gods. We can easily see the close resemblance that exists
between such figures as Amphiaraos or Trophonios and the Heroes of
later belief; in fact, both of them, when they were not called gods,
were frequently reckoned among these Heroes. But for all that, they
are only _quasi-Heroes_; prototypes of the real Heroes they can
never have been. They have been translated during their lifetime,
and live on immortally just because they have never tasted death.
They, with those others translated to the Islands of the Blest,
represent the idea of immortality in the only form recognized by the
Homeric poetry. The Heroes of the newly awakening creed, on the
contrary, have died unmistakably; and yet they continue to live on,
though relieved of their bodies. They are entirely distinct from the
translated few of the epic tradition. They emerge out of the
obscurity of the half-remembered past as something strange--as
something, indeed, opposed to the circle of ideas influenced by the
epic.
It was not from poetic imagination or story that the Heroes took
their origin, but from the remains of an ancient pre-Homeric belief
which local worship had preserved alive.
§ 5
The worship of a Hero is everywhere connected with the site of his
grave. That is the general rule proved in innumerable cases. That is
why in the case of a more than ordinarily revered Hero, his grave as
the centre of his worship is set up in some prominent and honourable
place--the market-place of the city, the Prytaneion,[30\4] or, like
the grave of Pelops in the Altis at Olympia, in the very middle of
the holy precinct, in the thick of the festival crowd.[31\4] Or else
the Hero who guarded the city and the land might have his grave in
the wall of the city gate or upon the farthest border of its
territory.[32\4] Where his grave is, there the Hero is fast bound;
that is his {122} dwelling-place.[33\4] This idea prevails
everywhere, though it may not be given such blunt expression as at
Tronis, in the country of the Phocians, where the blood of the
offering made to the Hero was poured down through an opening
immediately into his grave mound.[34\4] It is implied, as a rule, in
these cases that the grave contains the bones of the Hero. The
bones--all that is left of his mortality--chain the Hero to his
grave. Hence, when it was thought desirable to attach a Hero and his
protective power to a city his bones (or what were taken for such)
on the command of an oracle were brought from a foreign land and
laid to rest in his native country. We possess many accounts of such
transference of relics.[35\4] Most of them occurred in the distant
past, but we also read how in the full light of history in the year
476 enlightened Athens brought over the bones of Theseus from
Skyros;[36\4] and not until they were buried in the Theseion was
Theseus properly attached to Athens.
Since the possession of the corporeal remains[37\4] of the Hero
secured the possession of the Hero himself, the cities often
protected themselves against strangers, who might remove the
treasured bones, by keeping the position of the grave a
secret.[38\4] A grave is always necessary to fix the Hero at a
definite place, or, at least, an "empty tomb", which sometimes had
to do duty for a grave.[39\4] In such cases the Hero was perhaps
thought of as bound by a spell to that place.[40\4] As a rule, it is
the remains of his former body that hold him fast. But these remains
are a part of the Hero himself; though dead (and mummified, as we
are told in one case),[41\4] he works and acts just the same; his
psyche, his invisible counterpart and double, hovers in the
neighbourhood of the body and the grave.
These are all very primitive conceptions such as have, as a rule,
only been preserved among peoples who have remained at a very
undeveloped stage of culture.[42\4] When we find them in force among
Greeks of post-Homeric times, we cannot really believe that they
arose then for the first time, in complete contrast with the
clear-sighted freedom of the men of the Homeric age. They have only
re-emerged from the repressive influence of the Homeric rationalism.
It would be natural to think that the same ideas that have been
described as underlying the belief in Heroes were already in the
minds of those prehistoric Greeks who in Mycenae and elsewhere took
such care (even it seems going so far as to embalm them)[43\4] to
preserve the bodies of their princes from destruction, and who put
ornaments and utensils in their graves for future use {123} or
enjoyment. It has been explained above how, in the times of which
Homer's poems give us a picture, the alteration in sentiment as well
as the spread of the custom of completely destroying the bodies of
the dead with fire must have weakened the belief in the confinement
of the soul to this world and to the remains of the body. This
belief never entirely perished. It was preserved alive, perhaps for
a long time only by a few, in those places where there remained a
cult attached to a _grave_. Such a cult would not, indeed, extend to
those whose death had occurred within more recent times, but it did
not allow the old-established worship of the great dead of the past
to die out entirely. Over the royal graves on the citadel at Mycenae
stood a sacrificial hearth,[44\4] which bears witness to the
continuance of the ancient worship of the kings buried there. The
Catalogue of Ships in Homer mentions the "grave of Aipytos", an old
Arcadian local monarch, as a landmark of the district;[45\4] may not
the sanctity of that grave have been preserved? In many places, at
any rate, graves were pointed out and honoured that belonged to
Heroes who owed their existence solely to poetic fancy or were even
mere personifications--abstractions of the names of places and
countries whose ancestors they purported to be. In such cases the
Hero-worship had become purely symbolic, and often perhaps a mere
formality. But from such a fictitious ancestor-worship the cult of
the graves of Heroes cannot possibly have arisen; such fictions are
themselves only intelligible as copies of another and more vivid
worship, of a cult of real ancestors. If no such cult had existed in
actual fact before men's eyes, it would be impossible to understand
how men came to imitate ancestor-worship in the shape of such purely
imaginary creatures. A copy implies the existence of a model; a
symbol requires the contemporary or earlier existence of the reality
symbolized. We should certainly know more of the worship of
ancestors among the ancient royal families if in nearly all the
Greek states monarchy had not been abolished at an early period and
all traces of it suppressed. Sparta alone provides us with a
solitary example of what may once have been the prevailing custom in
all the seats of royal authority. When a Spartan king died his
funeral was celebrated with extreme pomp. His body (which, even when
he had died abroad, was embalmed and brought home to Sparta was laid
beside the other dead of his family, and honour was paid to him, in
Xenophon's words, not as a man, but as a _Hero_.[46\4] In this case,
which undoubtedly represents a traditional usage handed down from
remote {124} antiquity, we have the rudiments of Hero-worship as
applied to the dead of a royal family. The members of noble families
who, like the Eupatridai of Athens, sometimes traced their descent
from a king,[47\4] must also have retained from ancient times the
practice of ancestor-worship. As of all unofficial cults, we hear
little of the cults of the old clans based on blood-relationship and
connexion by marriage (~ge/nê, pa/trai~). But just as out of their
combination first the village communities and then the fully
organized Greek Polis grew up, so, too, the religious cults which
were paid to the ancestors of these unions of kinsfolk set a pattern
for the manifold social groups out of which the developed state was
built up.[48\4]
§ 6
The "clans" that we meet with at Athens and in other Greek states
are, as a rule, groups for which a demonstrable common kinship is no
longer a condition of membership. The majority of such politically
recognized, self-contained clans assemble together for the common
worship of particular gods but many also honour a Hero as well, who
generally in such cases gives his name to the clan. Thus, the
Eteoboutadai at Athens paid honour to Boutes, the Alkmaionidai to
Alkmaion, the Bouzygai to Bouzyges, in Sparta and Argos Talthybios
was worshipped by the Talthybiadai, etc. And in these cases, as the
name of the clan itself shows, the Hero of their common worship was
regarded as the _ancestor_ of the clan.[49\4] Further, this
ancestor-worship and the name derived from a common, even if
fictitious, ancestor, distinguished the clans from the
cult-associations of a different origin which since the time of
Kleisthenes had been put on a footing of legal equality with the
clans in the phratries. The members of these associations (Orgeones)
lacked a common name, the existence of which, therefore, indicated
in the case of the members of a clan a closer bond of union than
mere membership of a religious association which had been chosen at
will, and was not decided by the fact of birth.
Everywhere these clans kept up the outward formalities of
ancestor-worship; and the formality must once have had meaning.
However the publicly recognized clans may have developed their own
special characteristics, in their origin, at least, they must go
back (like the Roman _gentes_) to associations of kinsfolk developed
from the family (extended through the male line and held together by
a real bond of kinship. Even the purely symbolical ancestor-worship
of the later "clans", of which hardly a single one could have shown
the {125} pedigree of its descent from the reputed common ancestor,
must have arisen from the real ancestor-worship of genuine groups of
kinsfolk. The imitation in this case, too, points to the existence
at some time of an original.
In the same way the larger groups into which the Athenian state
since the time of Kleisthenes was divided were unable to dispense
with the practice of association for the cult of a commonly
worshipped Hero. The Heroes of the newly organized _phylai_[50\4]
had their temple, land, priests, statues, and regular cult; and so
also had the Heroes of the smaller purely local divisions, the
demes. Here, too, the fiction of ancestor-worship was kept up; the
names of the phylai, always patronymic in form, represent the
members of each _phyle_ as the descendants of the Hero Eponymos or
Archegetes of the phyle.[51\4] The demes also in many cases have
patronymic titles which for the most part are also known to us as
the names of aristocratic families.[52\4] It is evident that in such
demes the members of individual aristocratic families had settled
down together or near each other. The Archegetes, whether real or
fictitious, of the family must then have been regarded as the
Archegetes of the deme. We thus see how the cult of a family
ancestor, taken over by a wider group of worshippers, might be
preserved and extended--little as the cult might benefit in
sincerity by such political enlargement.
The cult of Heroes everywhere has the same features as the cult of
ancestors; at least, the more influential Heroes, those worshipped
by the greater communities, were everywhere regarded as the
forefathers and progenitors of the groups of countryfolk, citizens,
or kinsmen who honoured them. The fact that the persons of these
prehistoric Heroes owed their existence almost without exception
solely to poetry or fancy allows us to conclude that at the time
when ancestor-worship had its re-birth in Hero-worship, the memory
of the real Archegetai of the country, the ancestors of the ruling
families and clans, together with their cult, had fallen into
oblivion. A great or illustrious name was introduced where the real
name was no longer known. More often, even when the real forefather
of the clan was still well known, the name of a great man of the
primeval past was placed at the head of the list in order to throw
the origin of the family as far back into the past as possible and
connect it the more closely with a divine source.[53\4] Men thus
came to worship a phantom, often a mere symbol, of an ancestor. But
they held fast to the imitation of real ancestor-worship; the
remains of a true cult of ancestors provided the model and were the
real starting-point for the later belief and cult of Heroes. {126}
§ 7
We can no longer follow in detail the process of development and
extension which the idea of the Hero underwent. The accounts which
we possess show us the fully developed product, not the steps which
led up to this result. We first get an idea of the number of
Hero-cults existing in Greece during the greatest period of its
history from the enormous number of graves or cults of Heroes
mentioned by Pausanias in the account of his travels in the age of
the Antonines over the most important countries of the Greece that
was now fast falling into decay. Nearly all the legendary figures
celebrated in epic poetry were now worshipped as Heroes, whether in
their own homes (as Achilles in Thessaly, Aias at Salamis, etc.) or
in other places that either claimed to possess their graves (as the
Delphians did that of Neoptolemos, the people of Sybaris that of
Philoktetes, etc.) or else, through the genealogical relationship of
their leading families with the Heroes, regarded themselves as
closely connected with them (as, for example, the Athenians with
Aias and his sons). In the colonies especially the Hero-cults, like
the ingredients of the population, may have been a motley crew;
thus, in Tarentum the Atreidai, the Tydidai, the Aiakidai, the
Laertiadai, and especially the Agamemnonidai were worshipped in a
combined Hero-cult, and Achilles also had a temple of his own.[54\4]
There were Heroes with famous names who may yet have owed their
subsequent elevation to that position, during the times of the
greatest extent of the cult, in part to their fame in ancient
poetry. Side by side with these were a host of obscurer figures
whose memory had been kept alive by their cult alone, which a small
circle of country or city folk had paid to them from primitive
times. These are the real "national Heroes", of whose worship Drakon
had spoken; as true forebears and real ancestors of their country
they, too, are called "Archegetai".[55\4] We are told the names of
the seven Archegetai of Plataea to whom Aristeides was commanded by
the Delphic oracle to sacrifice before the battle of Plataea; not
one of them is ever heard of again.[56\4] It might happen that the
name of a Hero to whom worship had been paid from time immemorial
might no longer be known even to the dwellers near his grave. In the
market at Elis there stood a little temple whose roof was supported
on wooden pillars; men knew that this was the chapel belonging to a
grave, but no one could give the name of the Hero buried
there.[57\4] In the market at Herakleia on the Black Sea was a
monument of a Hero {127} overshadowed by wild olive-trees; it
contained the body of that Hero whom once the Delphian oracle had
bidden the founders of Herakleia to placate. The learned differed as
to his name; the inhabitants of Herakleia called him simply "the
local Hero".[58\4] In the Hippodrome at Olympia stood a round altar
at which the chariot horses used to shy. It was disputed what Hero
lay buried there, but the people called him, after the effect he had
on the horses, simply Taraxippos.[59\4] In the same way many Heroes,
instead of being called by their real names, were more often
referred to by adjectives which recalled their nature or their power
or some external detail of their appearance.[60\4] At Athens there
was a Hero Physician, a Hero General, and a Hero
Garland-bearer.[61\4] Many a Hero may have been known to the
neighbourhood which worshipped him simply as "the Hero".[62\4] In
such cases it was entirely due to the grave and the cult attached to
the grave that the Hero's memory had been preserved at all. There
might, indeed, be stories current as to his doings and nature as a
"spirit", but what it was that had marked him out in his lifetime
and caused his elevation to a Hero was totally forgotten.
Undoubtedly these are precisely the oldest Hero-cults. In the
instances quoted from Elis, Herakleia and Olympia, first one and
then another of the famous champions of antiquity were supposed to
be buried under that nameless gravestone. But, often enough, the
doubt was suppressed, and by an arbitrary and successful imposition
some famous name out of the heroic legend may have been substituted
as occupant of such ownerless or unclaimed grave sanctuaries.
§ 8
As a rule there was no difficulty in securing great or famous names
when it was necessary to find a patron-Hero for the city. In
particular the founder of the city and its regular worship of the
gods, and the whole divine circle which hedged round the life of the
citizens, was regularly worshipped with high honour as Hero
Archegetes.[63\4] Naturally, they were mostly mythical or even
arbitrarily invented figures to whom the greater or lesser cities of
Greece, as well as their offshoots in foreign lands, did honour as
their "Founder".
But from the times when colonies were frequently dispatched and laid
out in accordance with a carefully thought-out plan, under the
leadership of a single person (generally named by an oracle) who was
given plenipotentiary powers,[64\4] this real _Oikistes_ was himself
usually promoted after his death to the rank of Hero. Pindar speaks
of the sacred grave of the {128} Hero-founder of Kyrene in the
marketplace of the city;[65\4] the inhabitants of the Thracian
Chersonnese made sacrifices to Miltiades the son of Kypselos as
their Oikistes, "as the custom is," and held games annually in his
honour;[66\4] at Katana, in Sicily, Hieron of Syracuse was buried,
and was worshipped with the honours of a Hero as the Founder of the
city.[67\4] At Abdera the Teians on the occasion of the second
founding of the city restored to his position of Hero its original
founder Timesios.[68\4] On the other hand, the original and real
Oikistes of a colony might be deprived of his worship if the
inhabitants quarrelled with the mother country, and another
"Founder" chosen after the event and given the highest honours of a
Hero in his place. This was what happened in the year 422 with
Hagnon and Brasidas in Amphipolis.[69\4]
In these cases Hero-making leaves the sacred mists of antiquity and
enters the light of the contemporary world: faith and cult become
profaned by political motives. The name of Hero, once applied only
to the glorified figures of the far distant past, now that such
Heroizing of the recent dead was possible, must have begun to have
the more general meaning of one who has come to enjoy a higher
nature and enlarged capacities after his death. In fact, any kind of
prominence during a man's lifetime seems at last to have given him a
virtual claim to heroic honours after his death. As Heroes are now
regarded, great kings such as Gelon of Syracuse, law-givers such as
Lykourgos of Sparta,[70\4] and even representatives of poetic genius
from Homer down to Aeschylus and Sophokles,[71\4] no less than the
most famous victors in the contests of bodily skill and strength.
One of the Olympic victors, Philippos of Kroton, was reputed to be
the most beautiful man in Greece of his time. Over his grave the
people of Egesta, so Herodotos (v, 47) tells us, erected a Hero's
temple and paid honour to him with sacrifice as to a Hero merely on
account of his great personal beauty.
Still, religious or superstitious motives were not always absent.
They were particularly to the fore in the numerous cases where the
extent and importance of the world of Heroes were added to on the
recommendation of the Delphic oracle. Ever since the Delphic
priesthood had risen from its obscure beginnings to a recognized
position as the supreme authority in all questions of spiritual
right, the opinion of the oracle had been sought on all occurrences
that seemed to have any connexion with the unseen world. Especially
in the case of prolonged drought or infertility of the soil, or when
pestilential sicknesses had attacked a part of the country, was the
oracle {129} requested to state the origin of the misfortune. In
many cases the answer of the oracle would be that the origin of the
evil lay in the anger of a Hero who was to be placated by sacrifice
and the foundation of a permanent worship; or it would command that
the plague should be averted by the recovery of the bones of a Hero
from a foreign land, which should then be preserved at home and be
the object of an official cult.[72\4] Innumerable cults had their
origin in this way, nor do the examples all belong to a
half-legendary past. When pestilence and dearth broke out in the
island of Cyprus after the death of Kimon, the oracle bade the
inhabitants of Kition "not to slight" Kimon, but to regard him as a
"higher" being, i.e. do him honour as a Hero.[73\4] So, too, when
some one possessed by special religious scruples inquired the cause
of a strange vision that he had had, or of the remarkable appearance
of the body of one lately dead,[74\4] the oracle would often trace
the matter to the action of a Hero who must forthwith be given an
official cult. When a serious undertaking lay before a state,
whether it was the invasion of a foreign land or a decisive battle
in war, the oracle would bid the inquirers first placate the Heroes
of the country that was to be attacked or where the battle was to be
fought.[75\4] Sometimes the oracle of its own accord, without being
applied to, commanded the honours of a Hero to be paid to a dead
man.[76\4]
A peculiar case is that of Kleomedes of Astypalaia. This man had at
the 71st Olympic festival (486) killed his opponent in the boxing
match. He was disqualified by the Hellanodikai from taking his crown
and returned home to Astypalaia full of indignation. There he tore
down the pillar which supported the roof of a boys' school, and on
the destruction of the boys fled to Athene's temple where he hid
himself in a chest. His pursuers vainly sought to open the lid of
the chest and at last the chest itself had to be broken into by main
force. But Kleomedes was not found inside, either alive or dead. The
envoys sent to inquire of the oracle were informed that Kleomedes
had become a Hero, and that he must be honoured with sacrifice since
he was no longer a mortal.[77\4] And so the inhabitants of
Astypalaia paid honour to Kleomedes as a Hero. In this case the
simple conception of a Hero as one raised to divine power after his
death is united with the ancient belief, which had never quite died
out since the great days of the epic, in the _translation_ of
individual mortals who without dying disappear from sight to enter
immortal life with body and soul complete. Such a miracle seemed to
have occurred once again in the case of Kleomedes. He had
"disappeared" and {130} been "carried away".[78\4] He could,
however, only be called a "Hero" because there was no common name to
describe the effect of translation which made men no longer mortals
nor yet gods. The oracle called Kleomedes "the last of the Heroes";
indeed, it might well appear time to close at last the already
over-lengthy list of "Heroes". The Delphic oracle[79\4] had itself
contributed largely to their increase, and with full intent; nor did
it observe for long its own decision to make an end now.[80\4]
It is easy to understand the reasons for the universal acceptance
among the Greeks of the unquestioned authority of the oracle in all
matters connected with the Heroes. The god does not invent new
Heroes or add to the number of local divinities at his own caprice
or by the exercise of his own authority. He merely sees them where
human eyes are not clear-sighted enough. He, the all-seeing,
recognizes them as one spirit does another, and is able to see them
at work when men only feel the results of their activity. Thus, he
enables inquirers to be rid of their difficulties, to understand
supernatural occurrences by the recognition and worship of invisible
powers. For the believer he is in this, as in all other directions
of religious life, "the true Expositor".[81\4] He only points out
what already exists; he does not invent anything new, though the
information that he gives may be something quite new to men. We,
indeed, may be permitted to inquire what motive the shrewd Delphic
priesthood may have had in the creation or renewal of so many
Hero-cults. There is very evident method in their promotion of the
belief in Heroes, as there is in all the activities of the oracle in
religious and political matters. Was it ecclesiastical policy that
made the priests of Delphi, in this as so many other cases, search
out and multiply to the greatest possible extent the objects of
belief and cult? The more widespread and the more deeply ingrained
was the uneasy dread of an invisible all-powerful spirit-world, the
greater became the authority of the oracle that alone could give
guidance in this confused turmoil of ghostly activities.
Superstition had achieved a power that the Homeric age never knew,
and it cannot be denied that the oracle encouraged this
_deisidaimonia_ and did its best to increase it. Still, the priests
of the oracle themselves were undoubtedly subject to the beliefs of
their age; at any rate, they shared the belief in Heroes. They would
think it quite natural, when faced by anxious inquiries as to the
cause of disease or dearth, to confirm the half-expressed
attribution of the evil to the action of an angry Hero. They had
rather {131} to give their sanction to what was already anticipated
than invent something new. They only applied to the particular case
(with free scope in the invention of details) what the popular
belief of the times had already settled in principle. But what it
all meant was that the oracle took under its protection everything
that could promote and strengthen the cult of _souls_: and in so far
as it is possible to speak of a "Theology of Delphi", the popular
belief in the survival of the soul after death and the cult of the
disembodied soul formed two of the most important articles in its
creed. We shall have more to say on this subject hereafter. In any
case, if the priests lived in the atmosphere of such ideas, it was
natural for them in times of need and stress, when strange things
happened, to regard as the author of the disturbance some dead
legendary Hero's ghost or even a powerful spirit of more recent
times, and to direct the faithful accordingly. Thus, the Delphic god
became the patron of the cult of Heroes, just as he was a patron of
the Heroes themselves, and invited them every year at the
_Theoxenia_ to a meal in his own temple.[82\4]
§ 9
Thus encouraged on all sides, Hero-worship began to multiply the
objects of the cult beyond all counting. The great wars of freedom
against the Persians had aroused the deepest and most religious
feelings of the Greeks, and it did not seem too much when whole
companies of those who had fallen for freedom were raised to the
rank of Hero. Thus, even into a very late period, the solemn
procession every year to honour the Greeks who had been left on the
field of Plataea was never omitted; and at the sacrifice the archon
of the city called upon the "brave men who had laid down their lives
for Greece" and invited them to a meal and satisfaction of
blood.[83\4] At Marathon, also, those who had once fallen in battle
and been buried there were worshipped as Heroes.[84\4]
Out of the enormous multitude of those who had thus become Heroes an
aristocracy of Heroes of a higher rank came to be formed, chiefly
composed of those who had been honoured in legend and poetry from
the earliest times and had acquired fame all over Greece. Examples
of these are those whom Pindar[85\4] in one place names together:
the descendants of Oineus in Aetolia, Iolaos in Thebes, Perseus in
Argos, the Dioscuri in Sparta, the many-branched heroic family of
the Aiakidai in Aegina, Salamis, and many other places. Indeed, a
brighter lustre seemed to illumine some of the greater Heroes {132}
and to distinguish them almost in kind from the rest of their
fellows. Thus, Herakles was now elevated to the gods, though Homer
did not even know him as a "Hero" in the later sense, and though in
many places he was still worshipped as a Hero.[86\4] Asklepios is
sometimes a Hero and sometimes a god, as he had been
originally.[87\4] Then many other Heroes began to receive sacrifice
as gods,[88\4] not without the assistance of the Delphic oracle,
which in the case of Lykourgos, at least, seems itself to have given
the lead in the elevation of that Hero.[89\4] The boundary line
between the Hero and the god seems to become more and more
uncertain; sometimes a Hero of the narrowest local observance is
called a "god",[90\4] without our having any reason for thinking of
a formal elevation to divine honour in his case or any corresponding
alteration of ritual. The title of Hero seemed already to have lost
some of its value, though the time had not yet come when to name a
dead man as Hero hardly distinguished him at all from all the other
dead.
§ 10
However much the meaning attached to the name of Hero may have
widened or even deteriorated, the belief in the Heroes lost none of
its significance and long retained its hold on the people. The
belief in such a class of spirits stood almost on a par with the
belief in gods. If the circle of influence possessed by some
particular local-Hero was narrow and restricted, that only made him
seem all the nearer to his worshippers. The spirits of their
ancestors, their own and the country's peculiar possession and
shared with no one else, seemed more intimately theirs than other
invisible powers even of higher rank. Permanent as the gods
themselves, such Heroes were honoured as hardly second to the gods,
"though they cannot equal them in might."[91\4] "Not equal"--for
their efficacy was confined within bounds; it did not reach beyond
the limits of their home and the little band of their worshippers.
They were bound to the soil as the Olympian gods no longer were--(a
Hero who breaks free from local limitations soon achieves divinity).
In particular those Heroes who send up, from beneath the earth where
they dwell, relief in sickness or prevision of the future are
certainly bound to one spot. Only at their graves can such
assistance be expected, for that is their dwelling-place. In their
case the relationship between the belief in Heroes and the belief in
those subterranean deities, of whom something was said in the
previous chapter, is peculiarly plain. Indeed, in so far as their
influence is limited {133} to a single locality and their powers
concerned especially with _iatromantic_ manifestations, these two
classes of spirits essentially coincide.
Such relief in sickness was expected, not only from Asklepios
himself, but from the Asklepiadai, Machaon--who had a grave and
temple at Gerenia on the coast of Laconia--and Podaleirios. The
latter was buried in Apulia, near Mount Garganus. In his heroön
those who sought his aid laid themselves down to sleep on the skin
of the ram that had been previously sacrificed. In sleep they
received other revelations from the Hero besides remedies for the
ailments of man and beast.[92\4] Machaon's son, too, Polemokrates,
healed sicknesses in his temple of Eua in Argolis.[93\4] In Attica
there was a _Heros Iatros_ in the city whose efficacy in curing
disease was witnessed to by innumerable silver ex voto facsimiles of
various parts of the body restored to health by him.[94\4] Another
Hero Iatros, whose name is given as Aristomachos, had an oracle of
healing at Marathon.[95\4] Healing of disease was rarely attributed
to any other than these Asklepiad Heroes. Dream-revelations of other
kinds, however, were vouchsafed from their graves especially by
those Heroes who had been seers also in their lifetime, such as
Mopsos and Amphilochos at Mallos in Cilicia, Amphilochos, again, in
Akarnania, Teiresias at Orchomenos, Kalchas in Apulia near the
just-mentioned heroön of Podaleirios.[96\4] Besides these Odysseus,
too, had a dream-oracle among the Eurytanes in Aetolia,[97\4]
Protesilaos one at his grave-monument at Elaious in the Thracian
Chersonnese,[98\4] Sarpedon in Cilicia and another (alleged) in the
Troad,[99\4] Menestheus, the Athenian leader, far away in
Spain,[100\4] Autolykos in Sinope,[101\4] and perhaps also Anios in
Delos.[102\4] A Heroine called Hemithea had a dream-oracle, from
which she dispensed cures in sickness, at Kastabos in Karia;[103\4]
Pasiphaë gave prophecies in dreams at Thalamai on the Laconian
coast.[104\4] Since from none of these Heroes did the epic tradition
give any particular grounds in legend for expecting a display of
mantic powers, we must suppose that knowledge of the future and
communication of such knowledge to the living was regarded as
belonging naturally to the spiritual nature of the glorified souls
of Heroes. The notices which have come down to us allow us to hear
of a few regular and permanently established Hero-oracles, but there
may have been numbers of them of which we know nothing, and isolated
and occasional manifestations of oracular powers by other Heroes may
not have been entirely out of the question.[105\4] {134}
§ 11
The oracular Heroes are regularly confined to the neighbourhood of
their graves. In addition, what we know of the legends that were
told of the appearances or the unseen activities of these Heroes
shows that, like the spirits that haunt ancient castles or caverns
in our own popular mythology, they were confined within the
boundaries of their native country, the neighbourhood of their
graves or the site of their cult. They are, as a rule, artless
stories of the anger displayed by a Hero whose rights have been
infringed or whose cult neglected. At Tanagra[106\4] there was a
Hero Eunostos, who, having been deprived of his life through the
machinations of a woman, would tolerate no woman in his grove or
near his grave.[107\4] If any of the hated sex intruded there was
danger of an earthquake or drought, or else the Hero was seen going
down to the sea (which washes away all pollutions) to cleanse
himself. In Orchomenos there was a spirit who went about "with a
stone" devastating the neighbourhood. This was Aktaion, whose
earthly remains were therefore buried with much ceremony on the
command of an oracle. A bronze statue of him was also set up and
fastened with chains to a rock, and honoured every year in a feast
of the dead.[108\4] Herodotos solemnly tells us of the wrath of
Minos with the Cretans, who had not avenged his own violent end,
whereas they had gone to the aid of Menelaos.[109\4] There is a
deeper sense in the legend, also related by Herodotos, of Talthybios
who was enraged not for any private grievance but because of a
violation of the moral law and order. He himself as the protector of
heralds and messengers punished the Spartans for their murder of the
Persian envoys.[110\4] But the most awe-inspiring legend of the
revenge of a Hero was told of a local-Hero of the Athenian parish of
Anagyros. A countryman had cut down the Hero's sacred grove.[111\4]
The Hero first caused the death of the man's wife and then inspired
the second wife with a guilty passion for his son, her stepson. The
latter opposed her wishes and when she denounced him to her husband
was blinded by him and banished to a desert island. The father,
having become an object of loathing to all men, hanged himself; the
stepmother threw herself into a well.[112\4] This story is
remarkable for the fact that in it the Hero, like the gods
themselves, is regarded as able to affect men's consciousness, their
feelings, and their resolves. Many of the details may have been
improved upon by a taste accustomed to poetry of a higher
style.[113\4] But as a rule the legends of Heroes bear a {135}
thoroughly popular stamp. They are a kind of vulgar mythology, which
still put forth fresh shoots in this way now that the myths of
ancient gods and champions have become merely traditional and have
been given over to the never-ending operations of the poets. Such
myths were no longer thrown off naturally by the creative instinct
of the people. The gods seemed too far removed, their visible
influence in the affairs of men seemed only credible in the legends
of a far-distant past. The spirits of Heroes hovered nearer to men;
in good fortune and bad men traced their handiwork. In the myths and
legends of the people arising out of the events of the immediate
present they now constitute the supernatural element without which
neither life nor stories would offer any attraction or meaning to
the simple-minded.
We can learn what these legends were like from a single example,
which happens to have been preserved to us and which must stand for
the numbers of similar stories which once must have been current. At
Temesa, in Lucania, there was a Hero who went about destroying any
of the inhabitants that he could lay his hand on. The Temesians, who
had got as far as thinking of leaving Italy, turned in their
distress to the Delphic oracle, and were told that the ghost was the
spirit of a stranger who had once been stoned to death by the
inhabitants of the country for the violation of a maiden.[114\4] A
sacred precinct must be dedicated to him, and a temple built, where
every year the most beautiful maiden in Temesa must be delivered up
to him. The citizens of Temesa did as they were told, and the spirit
left them in peace, but every year the awful sacrifice took place.
To this place there came in the 77th Olympiad a famous boxer,
Euthymos of Locri, returning with his crown of victory back to
Italy. He heard at Temesa of the sacrifice that was about to take
place, and entered the temple where he saw the chosen maiden waiting
for the Hero. Pity and love filled his heart; and when the Hero
arrived the victor of so many single combats dared to try
conclusions with this new foe and finally threw him into the sea and
rid the country of the monster. It is just as in our own fairy tale
of the youth who went forth to learn how to shudder;[115\4] and, of
course, now that the land is delivered there is a brilliant wedding
and the "Knight of Good Courage" marries the beautiful maiden he has
rescued. He lived on to extreme old age, and even then he did not
die but was translated alive and is now himself a Hero.[116\4]
Such champions of the Pan-Hellenic contests, of whom {136} Euthymos
was one, are the favourite figures of popular legend both in their
lifetime and, after their death, as spirits. A story was told also
of one of the contemporaries of Euthymos, Theagenes of Thasos, one
of the most famous victors in the great games, and how after his
death one of his opponents went and thrashed his statue by night
till one night the statue fell on him and killed him. The Thasians
then threw the murderous image into the sea, but were thereupon
plagued with barrenness as a result of the Hero's anger. This went
on until, after the several times repeated command of the Delphic
oracle, they fished up the statue from where it had sunk and
restored it to its old position and sacrificed to it "as to a
god".[117\4] The remarkable thing about this story is the way in
which the crude and primitive notion, common to almost all
image-worshipping peoples, that the strength of a "spirit" resides
in his effigy, is here more than usually striking and applied to the
belief in Heroes. It lies at the bottom of many stories of the
revenge of dumb statues against those who offend them.[118\4] The
statue of Theagenes, indeed, cured fevers even in later ages,[119\4]
as did the statue of another famous boxer, Polydamas of
Skotoussa.[120\4] An Achæan Olympic victor, Oibotas of Dyme, had for
centuries prevented the Achæans from winning in any contest by a
curse.[121\4] When he had been appeased the Achæans, on starting out
to take part in a contest at Olympia, used to do sacrifice to his
statue.[122\4]
§ 12
But the belief in Heroes rose to still greater heights. Not merely
in peaceful athletic contests, but in real need, in struggles when
they were fighting to defend the highest possessions of all--the
freedom and safety of their country--the Heroes were found on the
side of the Greeks. Nowhere do we see more plainly how real and
vivid was the faith of contemporary Greece in the Heroes than in the
stories told of the appeals then made to them and of their
participation in the Persian wars. At Marathon there were many who
saw an apparition of Theseus in full armour fighting in the front of
the battle against the barbarians.[123\4] In the painting of
Panainos (the brother of Pheidias) in the Stoa Poikile at Athens
there was shown among the fighters at Marathon a certain Hero,
Echetlos, of whose appearance at the battle a peculiar story was
told.[124\4] In the war against Xerxes Delphi was preserved by two
of the local Heroes of the land against a Persian raid.[125\4] In
the morning before the battle of Salamis the Greeks prayed to the
gods, but they called directly {137} upon the Heroes to give them
practical help: Aias and Telamon were summoned from Salamis, and a
ship was sent to fetch Aiakos and the other Aiakidai from
Aegina.[126\4] So little were these Hero spirits mere symbols or
great names to the Greeks. Their actual physical participation in
the decisive hour was confidently expected. And, indeed, they came
and helped:[127\4] after the battle had been won a trireme out of
the spoil was dedicated to the Hero Aias as well as to the gods as a
thankoffering.[128\4] A Salaminian local Hero, Kychreus, had also
come to the help of the Greeks, as a snake, in which form the
Heroes, like the earth spirits, frequently appeared.[129\4] After
the battle everyone was fully persuaded that they owed their victory
to the gods and Heroes.[130\4] As Xenophon puts it, it was the
Heroes and their aid which "made Greece unconquerable" in the fight
against the barbarians.[131\4] Less frequently we hear of the active
participation of national Heroes in the fights of one Greek state
against another.[132\4]
Even in the petty details of the life of individuals the Heroes
played their part, helping or hindering, as once in mythical times
the gods had done. Everyone will be reminded of well-known legends
of the gods, and will at the same time be able to measure the
difference between the sublime and the merely idyllic, in reading
Herodotos' naive and circumstantial tale of how Helen once appeared
in person to a nurse at Therapne. The nurse was praying at Helen's
grave for her ill-favoured foster-child, when the Heroine appeared
to her and with a touch of her hand made the child the most
beautiful maiden in Sparta.[133\4] So, too, we read how the Hero
Astrabakos, in the likeness of Ariston, king of Sparta, visited in
secret the king's wife and made her the mother of Demaratos.[134\4]
The heroön of this Astrabakos was situated by the door of Ariston's
house,[135\4] and it was a frequent custom thus to place a Hero's
shrine before the house-door where he might give a special
protection to his neighbour.[136\4]
In all the circumstances of human life, in happiness or in need, for
individuals or the city, the Heroes are thus very near to men. It is
now often said of the Hero worshipped by a city (just as it was said
of the city's gods) that he rules it, is its possessor, or is lord
over it;[137\4] he is its true guardian and protector. It may,
indeed, have been the case in many cities, as it was said to be in
some, that the belief in the city-Hero was more deeply held there
than the belief in the gods worshipped by all Greece in
common.[138\4] The relation of man to the Heroes is closer than it
is to the majestic gods above: {138} the faith in Heroes gave a
different and a more familiar bond of union between men and the
spirit-world above them. The worship of Heroes began as an
ancestor-cult and an ancestor-cult it remained in essence, but it
had now been widened to a cult of certain greater human souls who
had raised themselves above their fellows by peculiar powers
exercised in many, and by no means predominantly moral, directions.
Many of them were of later ages or even of the quite recent past,
and in this lies the peculiar importance of their cult. They show
that the company of the spirits is not fixed and made up; individual
mortals are still continually being raised to that higher circle
after the completion of their earthly life. Death does not end all
conscious existence nor does the gloom of Hades swallow up all life.
But for that reason the cult of Heroes cannot be the origin of the
belief in an immortality belonging to all human souls by their very
nature. Nor can this ever have been its effect. In the beginning,
among the hosts that streamed down to Hades, the special individuals
who had another fate were a small class apart and favoured above all
others--and so it still remained. Though the numbers of the heroic
figures might be increased enormously, yet every individual case of
the transition of a human soul into the ranks of the Heroes was a
fresh and special miracle. Such exceptional cases, however
frequently repeated, could never produce a general rule applying
without distinction to all men alike.
The belief in Heroes in its gradual evolution and extension
unquestionably led far away from the course taken by the Homeric
belief in the things after death. In fact, it pointed in the
opposite direction. But with the belief in Heroes men had not yet
arrived at the belief in an immortality proper to the human soul by
virtue of its own nature, nor yet (which would be something
different again) was a general cult of souls thereby founded. In
order that such beliefs might arise after, but not out of, the cult
of Heroes, and maintain themselves side by side with an undiminished
cult of Heroes, a movement was first necessary that had its origin
in different sources.
NOTES TO CHAPTER IV
[1\4: Porph., _Abst._ 4, 22, p. 268, 23 Nauck.]
[2\4: It is not quite clear whether it is legitimate to see in what
Paus. 2, 2, 2, says about the graves of Neleus and Sisyphos a first
trace of the worship of Hero-relics, as Lobeck does, _Agla._ 284.
The oracle verse from Oinom. ap. Eus., _PE._ 5, 28, p. 223 B, in
which Lykourgos is warned to honour ~Mene/lan te kai\ a/llous
athana/tous _hê/rôas_, hoi\ en Lakedai/moni di/ê|~--is certainly
quite late, later than the ~hê/keis ô= Luko/orge~ that was known
already to Herod.; earlier however than the second century, cf.
Isyllos (_GDI._ 3342), l. 26. Oinomaos got it, like all the oracles
that he used in making his ~Goê/tôn phô/ra~ from a collection of
oracular sayings, certainly not from (or even indirectly from)
Ephoros as has been groundlessly maintained.--Unquestionably the
cult of Helen and Menelaos at Therapne was ancient: see Ross, _Arch.
Aufs._ ii, 341 ff. Connexion with the legitimate pre-Dorian monarchy
was eagerly sought for in Sparta; thus the bones of Orestes and
Tisamenos were brought to Sparta and both honoured there as Heroes.
The cult of Menelaos in Therapne has nothing whatever to do with his
translation to Elysion (Od. ~d~).]
[3\4: One Daites ~hê/rôa timô/menon para\ toi=s Trôsi/n~ is
mentioned by Mimn. _fr._ 18. Still earlier Alc. seems to refer to
the cult of Achilles as a Hero, _fr._ 48 b: ~Achi/lleu, ho\ ga=s
Skudi/kas me/deis~ (see Wassner, _de her. cult._, p. 33).]
[4\4: ~theoi\ ho/soi gê=n tê\n **Plataiï/da e/chete kai\ hê/rôes,
xuni/store/s este~, Thuc. ii, 74, 2; ~ma/rturas theou\s kai\ hê/rôas
egchôri/ous poiê/somai~, Th. iv, 87, 2; cf. Th. v, 30, 2-5.]
[5\4: Hdt. viii, 109: ~ta/de ga\r ouk hêmei=s katergasa/metha alla\
theoi/ te kai\ hê/rôes~.]
[6\4: Hdt. vii, 43.]
[7\4: In the first edition of this book I could not refer to the
copiously documented article by Deneken on "Heros" in Roscher's
_Myth. Lex._ Even now I must be content to refer the reader
generally to the rich collections of material there supplied. The
view taken of the nature and origin of the Hero is, however, one
which I can only reject. According to that account (which in this
follows the current view) the belief in Heroes arose from a weakened
belief in gods, and the race of Heroes was composed of formerly
divine figures who had come to be regarded in the course of time
with diminished awe. But the _cult_ of Heroes was by no means an
attenuated worship of the gods: on the contrary it was fundamentally
contrasted in its essence to the cult of the gods above:
~enagi/zein~ can never have been derived from ~thu/ein~ in however
attenuated a form. Equally little can the Heroes of cult have been
ever (much less frequently) derived from gods directly. The "Heroes"
(as objects of a cult) are invariably elevated souls of men, not
reduced divinities. This rule holds good even though a considerable
number of once divine figures after they had been deprived of their
godhead and made into great _men_, were when they died exalted, as
outstanding human beings, to the rank of Hero. In this respect they
did not differ from the innumerable cases before and beside them of
simple mortals who had never been gods. Only when and because they
had become men and been mortal could such {140} ex-divine personages
become Heroes: no one stepped straight from godhood to Herohood. The
Hero is regularly a promoted human spirit and nothing else.--I
intend here and generally in this book to avoid further polemic
against the currently accepted view of the origin of the Hero out of
degraded godhead and to content myself instead with the statement of
my own positive attitude in these matters.]
[8\4: ~theô=n a/llois a/llai timai\ pro/skeintai kai\ hê/rôsin
a/llai, kai\ hau=tai apokekrime/nai tou= theiou=~, Arr., _Anab._ iv,
11, 3.]
[9\4: Sacrifice to Heroes ~en duthmai=sin auga=n~ and throughout the
night, Pi., _I._iv, 65 ff. ~hupo\ kne/phas~, Ap. Rh. i, 587 (=
~peri\ hêli/ou dusma/s~, Schol.). ~tô=| me\n (Alexa/nori hôs hê/rôï
meta\ hê/lion du/nata enagi/zousin Euameri/ôni de\ hôs theô=|
thu/ousin~, Paus. 2, 11, 7. ~nu/ktôr kata\ e/tos enagi/zousin~, (the
Pheneatai to Myrtilos, Paus. 8, 14, 11. By night Solon sacrificed to
the Salaminian Heroes, Plu., _Sol._ 9.--After noon, ~apo\ me/sou
hême/ras~, must sacrifice be made to the Heroes, D.L. viii, 33;
~toi=s katoichome/nois apo\ mesêmbri/as~, _EM._ 468, 34 (cf. Procl.
in _Hes. Op._ 763, Eust., ~Th~ 65, p. 698, 36). The Heroes also are
among the ~katoicho/menoi~: ~toi=s hê/rôsin _hôs katoichome/nois_
e/ntoma e/thuon, apoble/pontes ka/tô es gê=n~, Schol. A.D., ~A~
459.--In later times sacrifice seems to have been made to the
ordinary dead even in broad daylight (see Stengel, _Chthon. u.
Todtencult_, 422 f.), but to "Heroes", as once to the dead (~Ps~ 218
ff.), always towards evening or at night.]
[10\4: ~escha/ra~, see above, Ch. I. n. 53.]
[11\4: Cf. Stengel, _Jb. f. Phil._, 1886, pp. 322, 329.]
[12\4: Schol. A.D., ~A~ 459. Schol., _Ap. Rh._ i, 587. ~ente/mnein~,
see Stengel, _Zt. f. Gymn._, 1880, p. 743 ff.]
[13\4: ~haimakouri/a~, Pi., _O._ i, 90. Plu., _Aristid._ 21. The
word is supposed to be Boeotian acc. to Schol. Pi., _O._ i, 146
(hence Greg. Cor., p. 215, Schaefer).]
[14\4: Rightly (as against Welcker) Wassner, _de h. cult._, p. 6,
maintains that the ~enagi/smata~ for Heroes were ~holokautô/mata~.]
[15\4: ~enagi/zein~ to heroes, ~thu/ein~ to gods. Pausanias in
particular is careful in his use of the words, but even he, and
Herodotos, too, occasionally says ~thu/ein~ where ~enagi/zein~ would
have been correct (e.g. Hdt. vii, 117, ~tô=| Artachai/ê| thu/ousi
Aka/nthioi hôs ê/rôi~). Others frequently say ~thu/ein~ instead of
~enagi/zein~, which as the more special idea could easily be
included in ~thu/ein~ the more generic word for making sacrifice.]
[16\4: Cf. Deneken, _de theoxeniis_ (Berl. 1881), cap. 1; Wassner,
_de h. cult._, p. 12. The expressions used by primitive peoples
allow us to see the ideas that lie at the bottom of this mode of
offering; cf. Réville, _les rel. des peuples non-civ._ i, 73. The
ritual may be regarded as specially primitive and even earlier than
the practice of burnt offering (cf. Oldenberg, _Rel. d. Veda_, 344
f.).]
[17\4: See above, Ch. I, p. 14 ff.--~epi\ Aza=ni tô=| Arka/dos
teleutê/santi a=thla ete/thê _prô=ton_; ei me\n kai\ a/lla ouk
oi=da, hippodromi/as de\ ete/thê~, Paus. 8, 4, 5.]
[18\4: The same is implied by the observation of Aristarchos that
Homer knows no ~hiero\s kai\ stephani/tês agô/n~, see _Rh. Mus._ 36,
544 f. (as to the observation there put forward that Homer in fact
did not know the word ~ste/phanos~ or its use, cf. further Schol.
Pi., _Nem._ intr., pp. 7, 8 ff., Abel; see also Merkel, _Ap. Rh._
proleg., p. cxxvi: ~eüste/phanos~ derived from ~stepha/nê~ not from
~ste/phanos~: Schol. ~Ph~ 511).]
[19\4: Many such Agones for Heroes are mentioned, esp. by Pindar.]
[20\4: e.g. on the command of the oracle an ~agô\n gumniko\s kai\
hippiko/s~ was founded in honour of the fallen Phocaeans in Agylla,
Hdt. i, 167. {141} Agon for Miltiades, Hdt. vi, 38; for Brasidas,
Thuc. v, 11; for Leonidas in Sparta, Paus. 3, 14, 1.]
[21\4: At the Iolaia in Thebes ~mursi/nês stepha/nois stephanou=ntai
hoi nikô=ntes; mursi/nê| de\ stephanou=ntai dia\ to\ ei=nai _tô=n
nekrô=n_ ste/phos~, Sch. Pi., _I._ iii, 117. (The myrtle ~toi=s
chthoni/ois aphie/rôto~, Apollod. ap. Sch. Ar., _Ran._ 330; as
adorning graves, Eur., _El._ 324, 511.)]
[22\4: General statement: ~etelou=nto hoi palaioi\ pa/ntes agô=nes
epi\ tisi teteleutêko/si~, Sch. Pi., _I_, p. 349 Ab. (~ta\s
_epitumbi/ous_ tautasi\ panêgu/reis~, Clem. Alex. calls the four
great games, _Protr._ ii, p. 29 P.). The Nemean as an ~agô\n
epita/phios~ for Archemoros, Sch. Pi., _N._, pp. 7, 8 Ab.; later
offered to Zeus first by Herakles, ib., p. 11, 8 ff.; 12, 14-13, 4
(cf. Welcker, _Ep. Cycl._ ii, 350 ff.). Victor's crown, since the
Persian wars, of parsley ~epi\ timê=| tô=n katoichome/nôn~, ib., p.
10 (parsley on graves: Schneidewin on Dgn. viii, 57; see below.
~seli/nou ste/phanos pe/nthimos . . . Dou=ris en tô=| peri\
agô/nôn~, Phot. 506, 5). Black dress of the judges, ib., p. 11, 8
ff. Schol. Arg., _N._ iv, v.--Isthmian games as ~epita/phios agô/n~
for Melikertes and then for Sinis or Skiron, Plu., _Thes._ 25. Sch.
Pi., _I._, pp. 350-2 Ab. Crown made of parsley or pine, both signs
of mourning, Paus. 8, 48, 2 (and elsewhere see Meineke, _An. Alex._,
80 ff.). The Pythian games are said to be an ~agô\n epita/phios~ for
Python; the Olympian for Oinomaos or Pelops (Phlegon, **_FHG._ iii,
603; cf. P. Knapp, _Corresp. Würt. Gelehr._ 1881, p. 9 ff.). These
notices cannot all be learned invention. It is a fact, for instance,
that the funeral games of Tlepolemos in Rhodes, known to Pindar,
_O._ vii, 77 ff., were later transferred to Helios (cf. Sch. Pi.,
_O._ vii, 36, 146-7, and Böckh on v, 77).]
[23\4: "Half-gods," ~hêmi/theoi~. The name does not, as is sometimes
declared, imply that the Heroes were spirits who thus constituted a
class of intermediate beings between gods and men. The Heroes were
not called ~hêmi/theoi~; the name was really applied to the kings
and champions of the legendary age, more especially those who fought
at Troy or Thebes (Hes., _Op._, 160; Hom. ~M~ 23; _h. Hom._, 31, 19;
32, 19. Callin., _fr._ i, 19, and often later). It applies to them,
however, as living men not as glorified spirits (thus Pla., _Ap._ 41
A; cf. D.H. 7, 32, 13, ~hêmithe/ôn _genome/nôn_~ [on earth] ~hai
psuchai/~).--The ~hêmi/theoi~ are a species of men not of spirits or
daimones; they are those ~hoi\ pro/tero/n pot' epe/lonto, theô=n d'
ex ana/ktôn ege/nonth' hui=es hêmi/theoi~ (Simon., _fr._ 36; cf.
Pla., _Crat._ 398 D), the sons of gods and mortal women and then
their companions as well (a potiori so named). Even the idea that
the great men of the past, thus called ~hêmi/theoi~, were naturally
made "Heroes" after their death as a consequence of their
half-divine nature which might give them special privileges even
then--this idea has no very ancient authority. Cicero, _ND._ iii,
45, seems to be the first to suggest such a view. That the Greeks of
the best period ever regarded semi-divine origin as a qualification
for becoming a Hero is refuted by the simple fact that for the great
majority of the "Heroes" descent from a god was not claimed. Of
course, poetry was always ready to give a Hero a divine father in
order to enhance his value, cf. Paus. 6, 11, 2; but this was never a
condition of being made a Hero (rather of being raised from Hero to
god).]
[24\4: ~ma/kar me\n andrô=n me/ta, hê/rôs d' e/peita laosebê/s~,
Pi., _P._ v, 94 f.]
[25\4: ~ti/na theo/n, ti/n' hê/rôa, ti/na d' a/ndra?~ Pi., _O._ ii
init. ~ou/te theou\s ou/te hê/rôas ou/te anthrô/pous
aischunthei=sa~, Antiph. i, 27. With "daimones" added: Gods,
daimones, heroes, men: Pl., _Rp._ 392 A; 427 B; _Lg._ iv, 717 AB. In
later times the distinction between ~theoi/, dai/mones, hê/rôes~,
corresponded to a real and popular opinion, see e.g. _GDI_. {142}
1582 (Dodona, cf. also 1566, 1585 b.--There can be no question of
identifying Heroes with the daimones (as Nägelsb., _N. Th._ 104,
does). When philosophers call the _dead_ "daimones" that is from
quite a different point of view. It is a speculative idea peculiar
to Plutarch himself that, in view of the transition from men to
Heroes and from these to daimones, the Heroes themselves might be
regarded as a sort of lower daimon (_DO._ 10, 415 A; _Rom._ 28). A
Schol. on Eur., _Hec._ 165, quite justifiably makes a parallel
between gods and daimones on the one hand and Heroes and men on the
other: the gods are ~hupsêlo/tero/n ti ta/gma tô=n daimo/nôn~ and
this is the relation of ~hoi hê/rôes pro\s tou\s loipou\s
anthrô/pous, hupsêlo/teroi/ tines dokou=ntes kai\ hupere/chontes~.]
[26\4: Aristarchos' remark that in Homer not only kings but ~pa/ntes
koinô=s~ are designated as ~hê/rôes~, was directed against the
mistaken limitation of the word by Ister; see Lehrs, _Aristarch._^3,
p. 101. Before Aristarch., however, the mistaken idea that ~hoi
hêgemo/nes tô=n archai/ôn mo/noi ê=san hê/rôes, hoi de\ laoi\
a/nthrôpoi~ seems to have been general: it is expressed in the
[Arist.] _Probl._ 19, 48, p. 922b, 18; Rhianos, too, held it, see
Schol. ~T~ 41 (Mayhoff, _de Rhiani stud. Hom._, p. 46).--It is
incorrect to say that in the supposed "later" parts of the Odyssey
~hê/rôs~ is no longer used of all free men, but only of the
aristocracy (Fanta, _Staat in Il. u. Od._, 17 f.). In ~d~ 268, ~th~
242, ~x~ 97, the word is used as an honourable title of free men of
superior rank, but there is no suggestion of a restriction of the
word to such use. In addition to which, the word ~hê/rôs~
unmistakably appears in its wider sense also in other parts of the
poem equally and rightly supposed to be late (~a~ 272, ~th~ 483, ~ô~
68, etc.).]
[27\4: So for example esp. when Pausanias speaks of the ~kalou/menoi
hê/rôes~, 5, 6, 2; 6, 5, 1; 7, 17, 1; 8, 12, 2; 10, 10, 1, etc.]
[28\4: ~andrô=n hêrô/ôn thei=on ge/nos~, Hes., _Op._ 159.]
[29\4: Of the "Heroes" of his fourth race the great majority fell
according to Hesiod in the war of Troy or Thebes and died without
any "illumination"; the few, on the other hand, who are translated
to the Islands of the Blest are illuminated indeed, but have never
died. To regard them as the prototypes and forerunners of the Heroes
worshipped in later times (as many do is inadmissible.]
[30\4: Grave in the market: Battos in Kyrene, Pi., _P._ v, 87 ff.,
and frequently. Hero-graves in the Prytaneion at Megara, Paus. 1,
43, 2-3. Adrastos was buried in the market at Sikyon. Kleisthenes,
to play a trick on him, brought from Thebes (the corpse of)
Melanippos, who, when alive, had been his greatest enemy, and placed
him ~en tô=| prutanei/ô| kai/ min hi/druse enthau=ta en tô=|
ischurota/tô|~, Hdt. v, 67. Themistokles had a ~mnêmei=on~ in the
market at Magnesia on the Maiander. Th. 1, 138, 5; i.e. a ~hêrô=|on~
(see Wachsmuth, _Rh. Mus._ lii, 140).]
[31\4: ~tu/mbon amphi/polon e/chôn poluxenôta/tô| para\ bô/mô|~,
Pi., _O._ i, 93; i.e. the great ash-altar of Zeus. The excavations
have confirmed Pindar's description (cf. Paus. 5, 13, 1-2).]
[32\4: Grave built in the gateway: ~en autê=| tê=| pulê=|~ at Elis
Aitolos the son of Oxylos was buried, Paus. 5, 4, 4; cf. Lobeck,
_Agl._ 281 f. Grave at the boundary of the country: Koroibos, the
first Olympic victor, was buried ~Êlei/as epi\ tô=| pe/rati~ as the
insc. stated: Paus. 8, 26, 4. Grave of Koroibos, son of Mygdon, ~en
_ho/rois_ Phrugô=n Stektorênô=n~, Paus. 10, 27, 1.]
[33\4: The idea of the grave as the dwelling-place of the Hero is
shown in a very strange fashion by the story that the Phliasians
before the feast of Demeter ~kalou=sin epi\ ta\s sponda/s~ the hero
Aras and his sons, _looking_ while so doing towards the graves of
these Heroes: Paus. 2, 12, 5.] {143}
[34\4: This hero (Xanthippos or Phokos) ~e/chei epi\ hême/ra| te
pa/sê| tima/s, kai\ a/gontes hierei=a hoi Phôkei=s to\ me\n hai=ma
di' opê=s egche/ousin es to\n ta/phon ktl.~ Paus. 10, 4, 10.
Similarly at the grave of Hyakinthos at Amyklai, Paus. 3, 19, 3. The
meaning of such an offering is the same in Greece as in similar
cases among any "savage" tribe. In Tylor, ii, 28, we read: "In the
Congo district the custom has been described of making a channel
into the tomb to the head or mouth of the corpse, to send down month
by month the offerings of food and drink."]
[35\4: Most of the examples are mentioned by Lobeck, _Agl._ 281 [u],
but he omits the most remarkable case, fully reported by Hdt. i,
67-8, of the transference of the bones of Orestes from Tegea to
Sparta (cf. Paus. 3, 3, 6; 11, 10; 8, 54, 4. The reason is obvious,
cf. Müller, _Dorians_, i, 72). Besides this note: the removal of the
bones of Hektor from Ilion to Thebes, Paus. 9, 18, 5, Sch. and Tz.,
_Lyc._ 1194, 1204; of Arkas from Mainalos to Mantinea, Paus. 8, 9,
3; cf. 8, 36, 8; of Hesiod from Naupaktos to Orchomenos, Paus. 9,
38, 3; of Hippodameia from Midea in Argolis to Olympia, Paus. 6, 20,
7; of Tisamenos from Helike to Sparta, Paus. 7, 1, 8; of Aristomenes
from Rhodes to Messene, Paus. 4, 32, 3. Strange story of the
shoulder bone of Pelops, Paus. 5, 13, 4-6. In all these cases the
removal followed upon a command of the oracle, cf. also Paus. 9, 30,
9-11. Practical stimulus may have been given occasionally by the
discovery of abnormally large bones in dug-up graves; we often hear
of such discoveries, cf. W. Schmid, _Atticismus_, iv, 572 f., and it
was always believed that such gigantic bones were remains of one of
~tô=n kaloume/nôn hêrô/ôn~, Paus. 6, 5, 1 (cf. also 1, 35, 5 ff.; 3,
22, 9). It would be the business of the oracle to determine the name
of the Hero concerned and see that the remains were reverently
preserved. (One example may be given, though from a later period. In
the dried-up bed of the Orontes a clay coffin 11 yards long was
found and a corpse within it. The oracle of the Clarian Apollo on
being applied to for enlightenment as to its origin answered
~Oro/ntên ei=nai, ge/nous de\ auto\n ei=nai tou= Indô=n~, Paus. 8,
29, 4; Philostr., _H._ 669 p. 138, 6-19 K.]
[36\4: Plu., _Cim._ 8; _Thes._ 36; Paus. 3, 3, 7.--In the year 437-6
we hear of the removal by Hagnon and his Athenians, at the command
of the oracle, of the bones of Rhesos from Troy to Amphipolis:
Polyaen. vi, 53. The neighbourhood of the mouth of the Strymon on
the western slopes of Mt. Pangaios was the original home of Rhesos:
he was already known to the Doloneia as the son of Eïoneus; to later
writers as the son of Strymon and (like Orpheus) a Muse--which is
the same thing (see Conon, 4). On M. Pangaios he still lived as an
oracular deity: this must have been the popular belief of the
district which the author of the _Rhesus_ explains after Greek
fashion (ll. 955-66). He is a tribal god of the Edonians, of the
same pattern as Zalmoxis of the Getai, and Sabos or Sabazios of
other Thracian tribes. In the mind of the Greeks he had become since
the poem of the Doloneia entirely detached from the site of his
worship and was a mere mortal champion with whom fancy might do what
it chose (cf. Parth. 36). The restoration of his bones to the
neighbourhood of the lower Strymon (~mnêmei=on tou= Rhê/sou~ in
Amphipolis: Marsyas ~ho neô/teros~ in Sch., _Rhes._ 346), and the
heroic cult which was undoubtedly paid to him in connexion
therewith, may have been a kind of official recognition by the
Greeks of the worship of Rhesos discovered in that neighbourhood by
the Athenian colonists. I see no reason for doubting the historical
fact of the occurrence, though some of the details of Polyaenus'
account have a fabulous colouring. It is true Cicero says of Rhesos,
_nusquam_ {144} _colitur_ (_ND._ iii, 45), and so it may have been
in C.'s time: for the earlier period the close of the tragedy
clearly suggests the cult of R. as a divinity, while the story of
Polyaen. implies his Hero-cult.]
[37\4: Sometimes only single parts of the body, e.g. the
shoulder-blade of Pelops at Olympia (Paus. 5, 13).--In Argos on the
road to the Akropolis their heads were buried in the ~mnê=ma tô=n
Aigu/ptou pai/dôn~, while the rest of their bodies were in Lerne,
Paus. 2, 24, 2.]
[38\4: See Lob., _Agl._ 281. This only can be the meaning of Soph.,
_OC._ 1522 f. (Nauck otherwise.--A strange case is that of
Hippolytos in Troizen: ~apothanei=n auto\n ouk ethe/lousin (hoi
Troizê/nioi) sure/nta hupo\ tô=n hi/ppôn oude\ to\n ta/phon
apophai/nousin eido/tes; to\n de\ en ouranô=| kalou/menon hêni/ochon
tou=ton ei=nai nomi/zousin ekei=non (ekei=noi?) Hippo/luton, timê\n
para\ theô=n tau/tên e/chonta~ Paus. 2, 32, 1. Here it seems as if
the grave were not shown because Hipp. was not regarded as having
died and therefore would not have a grave; he is said to have been
_translated_ and set among the stars. But there _was_ a grave and
the translation story must therefore only be an afterthought. (The
death of Hipp. is spoken of clearly enough by the poets: but what
happened to him after Asklepios had restored him to life again? The
Italian Virbius legend seems to have been little known in Greece.
Paus. 2, 27, 4, knows it from Aricia.)--Very occasionally the
possession of the relics of the Hero was secured by burning the
bones and scattering the ashes in the market place of the city. Thus
Phalanthos in Tarentum, Justin. 3, 4, 13 ff.; Solon in Salamis, D.L.
i, 62; Plu., _Sol._ 32. As a rule the scattering of ashes is
intended to serve a different purpose, cf. Plu., _Lycurg._ 31 fin.;
Nic. Dam., _Paradox._ **16, p. 170 West.]
[39\4: A few examples: ~keno\n sê=ma~ of Teiresias in Thebes, Paus.
9, 18, 4; of Achilles at Elis, Paus. 6, 23, 3; of the Argives who
fought in the war against Troy, at Argos, Paus. 2, 20, 6; of Iolaos
at Thebes, Paus. 9, 23, 1; Sch. Pi., _N._ iv, 32 (in the tomb of
Amphitryon? Pi., _P._ ix, 81); of Odysseus at Sparta, Plut., _Q.
Gr._, 48, 302 C; of Kalchas in Apulia, Lyc. 1047 f.]
[40\4: Perhaps by ~ana/klêsis~ of the ~psuchê/~? see above, Ch. I,
n. 86 (at the foundation of Messene ~epekalou=nto en koinô=| kai\
hê/rôa/s sphisin epanê/kein sunoi/kous~, Paus. 4, 27, 6).]
[41\4: ~kai\ tethneô\s kai\ ta/richos eô\n du/namin pro\s theô=n
e/chei to\n adike/onta ti/nesthai~, Hdt. ix, 120.]
[42\4: No detailed proof of this statement is needed. We will only
remark that the attempt to conceal the grave is often met with among
so-called "savage" tribes and has the same purpose as in the Greek
Hero-cult: cf. on this subject Herbert Spencer, _Princ. of Sociol._
i, p. 176.]
[43\4: See Helbig, _D. hom. Epos aus Denkm._^1, p. 41.]
[44\4: See above, p. 23.]
[45\4: ~B~ 603 ~hoi\ d' e/chon Arkadi/ên hupo\ Kullê/nês o/ros
aipu/, Aipu/tion para\ tu/mbon~.--Cf. Paus. 8, 16, 2-3.--In the
Troad the frequently mentioned ~I/lou sê=ma~, the ~sê=ma
poluska/rthmoio Muri/nês~ which "men" call ~Bati/eia~, were similar
monuments.]
[46\4: The ceremonial announcement of death, the ~katamiai/nesthai~
of the proper persons (as usual the next of kin to the dead); the
assembling of Spartiates Perioikoi and Helots (cf. Tyrt. _fr._ 7)
with their women to the number of several thousands, the extravagant
expression of grief and praise of the dead, the period of mourning
(no business in the market for ten days, etc.)--all this is
described by Hdt. vi, 58. He compares this grandiose funeral with
the pomp customary at the burial of an Asiatic (Persian)
monarch.--The Lycurgan ~no/moi~ by these funeral rites ~ouch hôs
anthrô/pous all' hôs _hê/rôas_ tou\s Lakedaimoni/ôn~ {145}
~basilei=s protetimê/kasin~, Xen., _Rep. Lac._ xv, 9. King Agis I
~e/tuche semnote/ras ê\ kat' a/nthrôpon taphê=s~, Xen., _HG._ 3, 3,
1.--A peculiar circumstance at the burial of a Spartan king is
mentioned by Apollod., _fr._ 36.--The burial places of the royal
Houses of the Agiadai and the Eurypontidai (apart even in their
death), Paus. 3, 12, 8; 14, 2 (cf. Bursian, _Geog._ ii,
126).--Embalming of the body of a king who dies abroad, Xen., _HG._
5, 3, 19: D.S. 15, 93, 6; Nep., _Ages._ 8; Plu., _Ages._
40.--Besides this the participation in primitive times of the whole
people in the funeral of the Herakleid kings in Corinth may probably
be deduced from the story told of the compulsory attendance of the
Megarian subjects of Corinth at the funeral at Corinth of a king of
the Bakchiad family: Sch. Pi., _N._ vii, 155 (cf. _AB._ 281, 27 ff.;
Zenob. v, 8; Dgn. vi, 34). In Crete ~tô=n basile/ôn kêdeuome/nôn
proêgei=to purrichi/zôn ho strato/s~ (as at the funeral of Patroklos,
~Ps~ 131 ff.), Arist. ap. Schol. V., ~Ps~ 130.]
[47\4: ~Eupatri/dai, hoi . . . mete/chontes tou= basilikou=
ge/nous~, _EM._ 395, 50.--Thus the Bakchiadai in Corinth were
descendants of the royal family of the house of Bakchis. The
~Basili/dai~, a ruling family of oligarch nobles in Ephesos (Ael.
_fr._ 48), Erythrai (Arist., _Pol._ 1305b, 19), and perhaps Chios as
well (see Gilbert, _Gr. Alt._ ii, 153), also traced back their
descent to the old kings of those Ionic cities. Respect paid to
those who were descended ~ek tou= ge/nous~ of Androklos at Ephesos,
Stra. 633.--The Aigid Admetos, priest of Apollo Karneios at Thera
was descended ~Lakedai/monos ek basilê/ôn~, _Epigr. Gr._ 191; 192.]
[48\4: Here some reference might have been expected to Fustel de
Coulanges' brilliant and penetrating work _La Cité antique_. In that
book the attempt is made to fix upon ancestor-worship, _la religion
du foyer et des ancêtres_, as the root of all the higher types of
worship (among the Greeks: only that part of the book concerns us
here); and to show how out of these ancestor-worshipping
aggregations, begun by the family, larger communities of
ever-widening membership developed, and finally out of these the
~po/lis~ itself--the highest and most extensive political as well as
religious community of all. For the author of that book the proof of
his theory lies entirely in the simple logical consequence with
which the details and, as far as we know it, the development of both
private and public law follow from the original causes adopted by
him essentially as postulates. A strictly historical proof that
should not have to deduce the original causes from the results but
should start from known beginnings and demonstrate the actual
existence of every step was indeed an impossibility. The whole
historical process must have been already finished when our
knowledge first begins: for Homer shows us the ~po/lis~ and its
component parts (~kri=n' a/ndras kata\ phu=la kata\ phrê/tras
Aga/memnon~) as well as the worship of the gods as fully established
and developed. It is no disparagement of the valuable and fruitful
suggestions made in that book if we say that its leading idea--as
far as Greece is concerned--cannot be considered as more than an
intuition, which though it may be just and true, must remain
unproved. If there ever was a time when ancestor-worship was the
only Greek religion at least we cannot see into that dim epoch long
anterior to all tradition. To that remote period long before both
the all-powerful religion of the gods and the earliest records of
the Greek genius, even the narrow and slippery path of inference and
reconstruction will hardly lead us. Natural as it might seem,
therefore, so far as the subject itself is concerned to deal with
such questions, I have taken no notice in the {146} present work of
any attempts to deduce Greek religion from an original sole worship
of ancestors (such as have been made by many scholars besides F. de
Coulanges both in England and in Germany).]
[49\4: Those worshipped by a ~ge/nos~ regarded as its progenitors,
~gonei=s~: _AB._ 240, 31 ~(ta\ thu/mata di/dôsin) eis ta\ _gone/ôn_
(hiera\) ta\ ge/nê~.--Physical relationship between the ~gennê=tai~,
originally a fact though afterwards only occasionally demonstrable,
is indicated by the ancient name ~homoga/laktes~ applied to the
members of the same clan (Philoch. _fr._ 91-4) and meaning strictly
~pai=des kai\ pai/dôn pai=des~ (Arist., _Pol._ 1252b, 18).--The word
~pa/tra~ with the same meaning as ~ge/nos~ (~Midulida=n pa/tra~,
Pi., _P._ viii, 38), makes it still more clear that the members of
such a group are regarded as the descendants of a single ancestor.
See Dikaiarch. ap. St. Byz. ~pa/tra~.]
[50\4: Whose names were chosen by the voice of the Delphic oracle
out of a hundred submitted to the Pythia. Arist. ~Athp.~ 21, 6. Cf.
Mommsen, _Philol._, N.F. i, 456 f.]
[51\4: Instead of the common ~epô/numoi~ we also find the word
~_archê/getai_~ used of the Heroes of the phylai: Ar. ~Gê=ras~,
_fr._ 126 H.-G. (_AB._ 449, 14); Pl., _Lys._ 205 D, cf. _CIA._ ii,
1191; 1575. It is even plainer that the Hero is regarded as the
ancestor of his ~phulê/~ when he is called ~_archêgo/s_~: thus
Oineus was the ~archêgo/s~ of the Oineïdai, Kekrops the ~archêgo/s~
of the Kekropidai, Hippothoön ~archêgo/s~ of the Hippothoöntidai in
[Dem.] 60, 30-1. The ~archêgo\s tou= ge/nous~ is its physical
forebear and progenitor, Poll. iii, 19: thus Apollo ~archêgo\s tou=
ge/nous~ of the Seleucids, _CIG._ 3595, 26; cf. Isocr. 5, 32. Thus
too the members of a phyle are actually described as the
~suggenei=s~ of their Hero eponymos: [Dem.] 60, 28.]
[52\4: Thus we know of both ~dê=mos~ and ~ge/nos~ of the Ionidai,
Philaïdai, Boutadai (for the intentional distinctness of the
Eteoboutadai see Meier, p. 39), Kephalidai, Perithoïdai, etc.:
Meier, _de gentil. Attica_, p. 35. Such demes were called ~apo\ tô=n
ktisa/ntôn~, others ~apo\ tô=n to/pôn~: Arist. ~Athp.~ 21, 5 (in
which case a name as much like a personal name as possible was
extracted out of the place-name and made into the local Hero: cf.
Wachsm., _Stadt Athen_, ii, 1, 248 ff.). Similar conditions existed
at other places. In Teos the same names occur as ~pu/rgoi (= dê=moi~
and ~summori/ai (= ge/nê~, e.g. ~Kolôti/ôn, tou= Alki/mou pu/rgou,
Alkimi/dês~ (also names which differ ~Nai/ôn, tou= Mêra/dou pu/rgou,
Bruski/dês~), _CIG._ 3064, where see Böckh II, p. 651. In Rhodos a
~pa/tra~ as well as its larger inclusive group (~ktoi/na~) is called
~Amphinei=s~: _IGM. Aeg._ i, 695, ~Amphine/ôn pa/trai; Euteli/dai,
Amphinei=s~, etc. (Ancestor worship ~progonika\ hiera/~ in the
Rhodian ~ktoi=nai~ is vouched for by Hesych. ~ktu/nai~: see Martha,
_BCH._ iv, 144.)]
[53\4: Thus the descendants of Bakchis in Corinth traced their
descent to Aletes (D.S. 7, 9, 4; Paus. 2, 4, 3); the descendants of
Aipytos in Messenia to Kresphontes (Paus. 4, 3, 8), the descendants
of Agis and Eurypon in Sparta to Eurysthenes and Prokles. The real
ancestors were in these cases well known and could not be entirely
eclipsed (being too deeply rooted in cult); thus later, as well as
in the earlier period, these same families are called ~Bakchi/dai,
Aiputi/dai~, not ~Hêraklei=dai~ (D.S., loc. cit., Paus. 4, 3, 8);
the Spartan royal families are still Agidai, Eurypontidai, while the
fictitious ancestors Eurysthenes and Prokles never quite achieved
the status of ~archêge/tai~: Ephoros ap. Str. 366. In many other,
perhaps more numerous, cases the fictitious ancestor may have ousted
the real and once better known from men's minds altogether.]
[54\4: [Arist.] _Mirab._ 106.] {147}
[55\4: See Paus. 10, 4, 10. In an oracle ap. Plu., _Sol._ 9:
~_archêgou\s_ chô/ras thusi/ais _hê/rôas_ enoi/kous hi/laso~.]
[56\4: Plu., _Arist._ 11, names seven ~archêge/tai Plataie/ôn~;
Clem. Al., _Protr._ ii, 35 P., gives four of these (~Kuklai=os~
seems to be a mistake). Androkrates seems to have been the most
prominent; his ~te/menos~ is mentioned by Hdt. ix, 25, his
~hêrô=|on~ Thuc. iii, 24, 1; it stood in a thick grove, Paus. loc.
cit.]
[57\4: Paus. 6, 24, 9-10.]
[58\4: A.R. ii, 835-50, says that this Hero was Idmon the prophet,
others called him Agamestor. Sch. ad 845: ~le/gei de\ kai\
promathi/das, ho/ti dia\ to\ agnoei=n ho/stis ei/ê _epichô/rion
hê/rôa_ kalou=sin hoi Hêrakleô=tai~. He was the local daimon
worshipped on the spot before the colony came, and then taken over
by the colonists for their own. Cf. the case of Rhesos, above, n.
36.]
[59\4: Paus. 6, 20, 15-19. It was a round altar, according to many
~ta/phos andro\s auto/chthonos kai\ agathou= ta\ es hippikê/n~--the
grave and altar being one as was the grave and altar of Aiakos at
Aegina, Paus. 2, 29, 8--whose name was Olenios. Acc. to others it
was the grave of Dameon son of Phlious and of his horse; or the
~keno\n êri/on~ of Myrtilos set up in his honour by Pelops; or of
Oinomaos; or of Alkathoös son of Porthaon, one of the suitors of
Hippodameia--to say nothing of the learned suggestion of the ~anê\r
Aigu/ptios~ given by Paus. l.c. as a last resort. Acc. to Hesych.
~tara/xippos~ it belonged to Pelops himself, acc. to Lyc. 42 f. to a
giant called Ischenos (see Sch. and Tz.). Besides all this a
~tara/xippos~ seems to have been almost indispensable on the
racecourses of the great games. The Isthmus and Nemea had theirs as
well (Paus. § 19)--and Paus. 10, 37, 4, mentions it as something
unusual that the course at Delphi had no ~tara/xippos~. Cf. Pollak,
_Hippodromica_, p. 91 ff., 1890.]
[60\4: ~hê/rôs eu/odos~, _CIG._ 4838b, cf. Welcker, _Rhein. Mus._,
N.F. vii, 618--~kalami/tês hê/rôs~ (Dem. 18, 129, with Sch. and
Hesych. s.v.)--~hê/rôs teichophu/lax en Muri/nê|~, Hesych.--~hê/rôs
epite/gios~, _CIA._ iii, 1, 290, and 1, 194-206, see Hiller v.
Gärt., _Philol._ 55, 180 f.--With place-names ~ho epi\ blau/tê|
hê/rôs~, Poll. vii, 87--~hê/roin em pedi/ô|~, Att. ins. ap., _Leg.
Sacr._ i, p. 5.--In Epidauros on an architrave occurs the inscr.
~hê/rôos klaïkopho/rou~, _F. d'Epid._ i, n. 245. ~tô=|
klaïkopho/rô|~ also occurs in an inscr. from Mt. Ithome, _Leg.
Sacr._, p. 36 (n. 15, l. 11).--Probably to this class belongs the
~hê/rôs pa/nops~ at Athens, Pl. _Lys._ init.; Hesych. Phot. s.v.]
[61\4: ~hê/rôs iatro/s~ in Athens, _CIA._ ii, 403-4, see below.--A
~hê/rôs stratêgo/s~ is mentioned by a (late ins. ~Eph. Arch.~, 1884,
p. 170, l. 53. From their activities are named also the Heroes
Matton, Keraon in Sparta, Deipneus in Achaea (Polemon: Ath. ii, 39
C; iv, 173 F).--The ~Stephanêpho/rou hêrô=|on~ was mentioned by
Antiph., ~stephanê/phoros hê/rôs~ by Hellan., but his name was
unknown: Harp. Phot. Suid. s.v.; _AB._ 301, 19 ff. Cf. Böckh, _Econ.
of Ath._^2, p. 144 Lew.; _CIG._ 1, p. 168.]
[62\4: In Phaleron there was an altar, ~kalei=tai de\
"hê/rôos"~--the learned declared it to be an altar of Androgeos the
son of Minos: Paus. 1, 1, 4.--Cf. 10, 36, 6: ~Charadrai/ois~ (at
Charadra in Phocis) ~Hêrô/ôn kaloume/nôn~ (i.e. they were _called_
"the Heroes") ~eisi\n en tê=| agora=| bômoi/, kai\ autou\s hoi me\n
Dioskou/rôn, hoi de\ epichôri/ôn phasi\n ei=nai hêrô/ôn.--hêrôi,
hêrôï/nê|~ a sacrifice is offered at Marathon: sacrificial Calendar
of the Attic Tetrapolis (fourth century B.C.) in _Leg. Sacr._ i, p.
48. ~hê/rôi, hêrôï/nê|~, ib., p. 2; _CIA._ i, 4: fifth
century.--Decree ordering a record to be set up in the Peiraeus
~para\ to\n hê/rô~, _SIG._ 834, 26; _CIA._ ii, 1546-7: ~hê/rô|
ane/thêken ho dei=na~. Roehl, _IG._ {148} _Ant._ 29: (Mykenai) ~tou=
hê/rôo/s êmi~, cf. Furtwängler, _Ath. Mitth._ 1896, p. 9; ib. 323;
~ane/thêkan tô=| hêrôi~ (Locris).--On the different superimposed
layers of stucco on the so-called **Heroön west of the Altis at
Olympia were the ins. ~Hê/rôos, Hê/rôor~, and once also ~Hêrô/ôn~.
There seems to me to be no reason to suppose that this nameless Hero
was Iamos in particular, the ancestor of the Iamidai (as Curtius
does, _Die Altäre v. Olymp._, p. 25, _Abh. Berl. Ak._ 1881). For
what reason should the name of this highly honoured oracular
Hero--which had by no means been forgotten--be suppressed? The name
of the Hero was not given for the simple reason that it was unknown.
Nameless ~hê/rôes epichô/rioi~, who according to some had set up the
great sacrificial altar of Zeus in Olympia, are mentioned by Paus.
5, 13, 8. In some cases the namelessness of a Hero is explained by
the fear of uttering awful names, which esp. in the case of the
spirits of the lower world are very frequently suppressed or
referred to by a circumlocution (cf. Erinyes and spirits of the
dead, _Rh. Mus._ 50, 20, 3): cf. Ant. Lib. 13, p. 214, 19 W. This
was perhaps why Narkissos was called ~hê/rôs sigêlo/s~, Str. 404. On
the other hand, it was a special form of respect, at the sacrifice
to a Hero, to call out his _name_: ~tô=| Artachai/ê| thu/ousi
Aka/nthioi ek theopropi/ou hôs hê/rôï epounoma/zontes to\ ou/noma~,
Hdt. vii, 117. ~Hu/la| thu/ousin kai\ auto\n ex ono/matos eis tri\s
ho hiereu\s phônei= ktl.~ Anton. Lib. 26 fin. Cf. Paus. 8, 26, 7;
~epikalou/menoi to\n Mui/agron~.--No one will miss the obvious
analogy with the worship of the gods. In many places in Greece
nameless (or merely "adjectival") gods were worshipped, ~a/gnôstoi
theoi/~, as at Olympia, Paus. 5, 14, 8, and elsewhere. At Phaleron
~bômoi\ theô=n te onomazome/nôn agnô/stôn kai\ hêrô/ôn~ (sc.,
~agnô/stôn~?) Paus. 1, 1, 4. (~agnô=tes theoi\~ Poll. viii, 119.
Hesych. s.v.: ~bômoi\ anô/numoi~ in Attica D.L. i, 110.)]
[63\4: ~Tlapole/mô| archage/ta|~ Pi., _O._ vii, 78; _P._ v, 56. The
regular custom is mentioned by Ephorus ap. Str. 366: ~oud'
archêge/tas nomisthê=nai; ho/per pa=sin apodi/dotai oikistai=s~.]
[64\4: ~Dêmoklei/dên de\ katastê=sai tê\n apoiki/an _autokra/tora_~.
Official decree about Brea: _CIA._ i, 31 [Hicks and Hill^2, n. 41,
l. 8].]
[65\4: Pi., _P._ v, 87 ff.]
[66\4: Hdt. vi, 38.]
[67\4: D.S. 11, 66, 4.]
[68\4: Hdt. i, 168.]
[69\4: Thuc. v, 11.--Thus in the fourth century at Sikyon Euphron
the leader of the demos has been murdered by some of the other
party, but ~hoi poli=tai autou= hôs a/ndra agatho\n komisa/menoi
e/thapsa/n te en tê=| agora=| kai\ hôs archêge/tên tê=s po/leôs
se/bontai~, Xen., _HG._ 7, 4, 12.]
[70\4: Worship of the law-givers of Tegea as Heroes: Paus. 8, 48, 1.]
[71\4: In the case of Sophokles the "heroizing" had a special
superstitious reason. He had once received Asklepios as a guest into
his house (and established a worship of A.) and was therefore
regarded as especially favoured by heaven and after his death
worshipped as Hero ~Dexi/ôn~: _EM._ 256, 7-13. (In the temple of
Amynos, an Asklepiad daimon, on the west of the Akropolis an
honorific decree dating from the end of the fourth century B.C. has
been discovered, referring to the ~orgeô=nes tou= _Dexi/ônos_~
together with those of Amynos and Asklepios: _Ath. Mitt._ 1896, p.
299.) In this way many mortals who had entertained the gods as
guests were themselves made Heroes, cf. Deneken, _de Theoxen._ c, ii.]
[72\4: In the examples collected in n. 35 above the removal of the
Hero's bones was in each case commanded by the Delphic oracle.
Typical examples of the foundation of an annual festival of a Hero
on {149} the recommendation of an oracle: Hdt. i, 167; Paus. 8, 23,
7; 9, 38, 5.]
[73/4: Plu. _Cim._ 19--his authority is Nausikrates ~ho rhê/tôr~ the
pupil of Isokrates. The god ordered ~mê\ amelei=n Ki/mônos~. Kimon's
spirit was thus expressing its anger at the "neglect" by sending
pestilence and ~gê=s aphori/a~--he wanted a cult.]
[74\4: Appearance at the battle of Marathon, command of the oracle
~tima=n Echetlai=on hê/rôa~, Paus. 1, 32, 5.--Swarm of bees in the
severed head of Onesilos at Amathos; the oracle orders his head to
be buried ~Onêsi/lô| de\ thu/ein hôs hê/rôi ana\ pa=n e/tos~, Hdt.
v, 114.]
[75\4: Before the battle of Plataea: Plu., _Arist._ 11. Before the
occupation of Salamis the oracle ordered Solon ~archêgou\s hê/rôas
_hi/laso_~, Plu. _Sol._ 9.]
[76\4: The Persian Artachaies, of the family of the Achaimenidai,
was given a burial of great pomp after his death, by Xerxes at
Akanthos: ~thu/ousi Aka/nthioi ek theopropi/ou hôs hêrôi
epounoma/zontes to\ ou/noma~, Hdt. vii, 117 (--the ~Artachai/ou
ta/phos~ remained a well-known spot, Ael., _HA._ xiii, 20). It is
hardly likely that the unusual size of the Persian of which Hdt.
speaks was the cause of his being made a Hero by the oracle.]
[77\4: Paus. 6, 9, 6-7. Plu., _Rom._ 28. Oinom. ap. Eus., _PE._ 5,
34, p. 230 C (Vig.). Celsus _c. Xt._ also refers to the miracle,
Or., _Cels._ iii, 33, p. 292 L. Cf. iii, 3, p. 256; iii, 25, p. 280.]
[78\4: Kleomedes ~moi/ra| tôi\ daimoni/a| _die/ptê_ apo\ tê=s
kibôtou=~, Cels. ap. Orig., _Cels._ iii, 33, p. 293 L. Oinom. ap.
Euseb., _PE._ 5, 34, 1, (p. 296 Giff.): ~hoi theoi\ _anêrei/psanto/_
se hô/sper hoi tou= Homê/rou to\n Ganumê/dên~. Thus the gods, acc.
to the popular opinion derided by Oinom., gave Kleomedes
_immortality_, ~athanasi/an e/dôkan~, p. 297 Giff.]
[79\4: We rarely hear of other oracles directing Heroes to be
worshipped. But cf. Xenag. ap. Macr. 5, 18, 30: on the occasion of a
failure of the crops at Sicily ~e/thusan Pediokra/tê| tini\ hê/rôi
prosta/xantos autoi=s tou= ek Palikô=n chrêstêri/ou~.--This Hero is
probably the same as Pediakrates, one of the six ~stratêgoi/~ of the
~egchô/rioi Sikanoi/~ in Sicily who were slain by Herakles and
~me/chri tou= nu=n hêrôïkê=s timê=s tucha/nousin~. D.S. 4, 23, 5:
from Timaeus?]
[80\4: The lines of the oracle about Kleomedes may very well be
ancient (~e/schatos hêrô/ôn ktl.~) simply on the ground that its
assertion had not been fulfilled. If oracles that come true are
rightly regarded as subsequent to the events which they profess to
foresee, then it is only reasonable to regard an oracle which is
proved incorrect by later events as _earlier_ than the events which
contradict its prophecy.]
[81\4: ~hou=tos ga\r ho theo\s peri\ ta\ toiau=ta pa=sin anthrô/pois
pa/trios exêgêtê\s en me/sô| tê=s gê=s epi\ tou= omphalou=
kathê/menos exêgei=tai~, in the words of Plato, _Rp._ 427 C.]
[82\4: ~gi/netai en Delphoi=s hê/rôsi xe/nia, en hoi=s dokei= ho
theo\s epi\ xe/nia kalei=n tou\s hê/rôas~, Sch. Pi. _N._ vii, 68.]
[83\4: Plu., _Arist._ 21.--Grave of the Megarians who had fallen in
the Persian wars, erected in the market of that city: _CIG._ 1051 (=
Sim., _fr._ 107 _PLG._), Paus. 1, 43, 3. We hear nothing of the
Hero-worship of these men, but it is natural to suppose it.--Thus in
Phigaleia in the market place there was a common grave of the
hundred Oresthasians who had died fighting for Phigaleia, ~kai\ hôs
_hê/rôsin_ autoi=s enagi/zousin ana\ pa=n e/tos~, Paus. 8, 41, 1.]
[84\4: Paus. 1, 32, 4: ~se/bontai de\ hoi Marathô/nioi tou/tous,
hoi\ para\ tê\n ma/chên ape/thanon _hê/rôas_ onoma/zontes~. They lay
buried on the field of battle, Paus. 1, 29, 4; 32, 3. Every night
could be heard the neighing {150} of horses and the sound of battle.
Those who attempted to witness the doings of the spirits suffered
for it, Paus. l.c. The sight of the spirits made men blind or killed
them. This is well known of gods--~chalepoi\ de\ theoi\ phai/nesthai
enargô=s~. As to the results of seeing a Hero cf. the story in Hdt.
vi, 117.]
[85\4: Pi., _I._ iv, 26 ff.; cf. _N._ iv, 46 ff.]
[86\4: Hdt. ii, 44, has recourse to the idea that there was a
difference between the god Herakles and the Hero Herakles the son of
Amphitryon: ~kai\ doke/ousi de/ moi hou=toi ortho/tata Hellê/nôn
poie/ein, hoi\ dixa\ Hêra/kleia hidrusa/menoi e/ktêntai kai\ tô=|
me\n hôs athana/tô| Olumpi/ô| de\ epônumi/ên thu/ousi, tô=| de\
hete/rô| hôs hê/rôï enagi/zousi~. Combination of ~thu/ein~ and
~enagi/zein~ in one sacrifice to Herakles, at Sikyon: Paus. 2, 10,
1. Herakles ~hê/rôs theo/s~ Pi., _N._ iii, 22.]
[87\4: Varying worship of the same person as Hero and as god, e.g.
Achilles. He was a god in Epirus for example (called upon as
~A/spetos~, Plu., _Pyr._ 1) in Astypalaia (Cic., _ND._ iii, 45) in
Erythrai (third century ins. _SIG._ 600, 50, 75), etc. As Hero he
was worshipped in Elis where an empty grave was erected to him ~ek
mantei/as~, and where at his annual festival at sunset the women
~ko/ptesthai nomi/zousin~, i.e. lament over him as dead. Paus. 6,
23, 3.]
[88\4: I shall not multiply examples and only note Plu., _M. Virt._,
p. 255 E: ~tê=| Lampsa/kê| pro/teron hêrôïka\s tima\s apodido/ntes,
hu/steron hôs theô=| thu/ein epsêphi/santo~.]
[89\4: In the well-known lines ~hê/keis ô= Lu/ko/orge ktl.~ Hdt.
i, 65.]
[90\4: Thus Eupolis calls the Hero Akademos ~theo/s~, as Sophokles
does the Hero Kolonos, and others do the same, see Nauck on Soph.,
_OC._ 65.]
[91\4: ~hoi hê/rôes kai\ hai hêrôi/des toi=s theoi=s to\n auto\n
e/chousi lo/gon~ (i.e. for dream-interpretation), ~plê\n ho/sa
duna/meôs apolei/pontai~, Artemid. iv, 78.--Paus. 10, 31, 11: the
ancients considered the Eleusinian mysteries as ~tosou=ton
entimo/teron~ than all other religious ceremonies ~ho/sô| kai\
theou\s epi/prosthen hêrô/ôn~.]
[92\4: Machaon's ~mnê=ma~ and ~hiero\n ha/gion~ at Gerenia, Paus. 3,
26, 9. His bones had been brought by Nestor when he came home from
Troy: § 10. Cf. Schol. Marc. and Tz. Lyc. 1048. The first to
sacrifice to him was Glaukos the son of Aipytos: Paus. 4, 3,
9.--Podaleirios. His ~hêrô=|on~ lay at the foot of the ~lo/phos
Dri/on~ by Mt. Garganus 100 stades from the sea, ~rhei= de\ ex
autou= pota/mion pa/nakes pro\s ta\s tô=n thremma/tôn no/sous~, Str.
284. The method of _incubation_ given in the text is described by
Lyc. 1047-55. He also speaks of a river Althainis (so called because
of its medicinal properties, cf. _EM._ 63, 3, from Schol. Lyc.),
which cured disease if one sprinkled oneself with water from it.--?
from Timaeus, cf. Tz. on 1050. (Cf. also the spring by the
Amphiaraion at Oropos: Paus. 1, 34, 4.)]
[93\4: Paus. 2, 38, 6.--The brother of Polemokrates, Alexanor, had a
**heroön at Titane in the territory of Sikyon: Paus. 2, 11, 7; 23,
4; but we hear nothing of sick-cures (though his name would lead us
to suspect such).--Other Asklepiadai: Nikomachos, Gorgasos, Sphyros
(Wide, _Lac. Culte_, 195).]
[94\4: Sanctuary of ~Hê/rôs iatro/s~ near the Theseion: Dem. 19,
249; 18, 129; Apollon., _V. Aesch._, p. 265, 5 f. West. Decree about
melting down silver votive-offerings (third and second century),
_CIA._ ii, 403-4.--Acc. to Usener (_Götternamen_, 149-53) ~Iatro/s~
is to be regarded as the _proper_ name of this Hero (really a
functional "_Sondergott_") and not as an adjectival description of a
nameless Hero (as in ~hê/rôs stratêgo/s, stephanêpho/ros,
klaïkopho/ros~--this last in two different places, like ~hê/rôs
iatro/s~, see above, n. 61). Acc. to {151} his view ~Iatro/s~ was
given the adj. title ~hê/rôs~ to distinguish him from a ~theo\s
Iatro/s~. But this would only be possible if there existed a god who
was not merely an ~iatro/s~ and so called by this title, like
~Apo/llôn, Poseidô=n iatro/s~, but whose _proper name_ was
~Iatro/s~. But there was no such god. Usener (151) infers the
existence of a god ~Iatro/s~ out of the proper name ~Iatroklê=s~.
But this would only be justifiable if there were not a whole host of
proper names compounded with ~-klê=s~, the first part of which is
anything but a god's name (list in Fick, _Griech. Personennamen_^2,
p. 165 ff.).--There seems no real reason for understanding the name
~hê/rôs iatro/s~ differently from the analogous ~hê/. stratêgo/s,
hê/. teichophu/lax~, etc.--There existed besides even ~nu/mphai
iatroi/, peri\ Êlei/an~. Hesych.]
[95\4: _CIA._ ii, 404, distinguishes the Hero referred to by the
decree as the ~hê/rôs iatro\s ho en a/stei~. This clearly implies a
second ~hê/rôs iatro/s~, outside Athens. But the Rhet. Lex. in _AB._
262, 16 f. (cf. Sch. Dem., p. 437, 19-20 Di.), speaks of a ~hê/rôs
iatro/s~ called Aristomachos ~ho/s eta/phê en Marathô=ni para\ to\
Dionu/sion~, who it is clear cannot be the ~hê/rôs iatro\s~ that
Demosthenes meant--for he is ~ho en a/stei~; but the description
applies very well to the Hero Physician worshipped in Attica outside
the ~a/stu~. See L. v. Sybel, _Hermes_, xx, 43.]
[96\4: Cenotaph of Kalchas in Apulia near the heroön of Podaleirios,
Lyc. 1047 ff.--his body was said to be buried in Kolophon:
~No/stoi~; Tz. Lyc. 427; Schol. D.P. 850. ~egkoi/mêsis~ at his
heroön, sleeping on the skin of the sacrificed ram: Str. 284; the
same as, acc. to Lycophron, in the temple of Podaleirios. It almost
looks like a mistake in either Strabo or Lyc. But the ritual may
quite well have been the same in both temples and we find it again
in the dream-oracle of Amphiaraos in Oropos, Paus. 1, 34, 5.--At the
present day the Archangel Michael is worshipped at Monte Sant'
Angelo beneath Mt. Garganus. He appeared there during the fifth
century and in a cave which is perhaps rightly regarded as the
former site of the incubation-oracle of Kalchas: Lenormant, _à
travers l'Apulie_, i, p. 61, Paris, 1883. S. Michael had in other
cases also taken over the duties of the ancient _incubation_ mantic,
and continued them in a Christian form--though the task belonged
more often to SS. Cosmas and Damian--e.g. in the Michaelion in
Constantinople, the ancient ~Sôsthe/nion~: see Malal., pp. 78-9
Bonn.; Soz., _HE._ ii, 3.]
[97\4: Lyc. 799 f. Arist. and Nicand. in Schol. ad loc. Was there a
legend that made Odysseus die there? Lyc. himself, it is true, gives
quite a different story a little later (805 ff.), much to the
amazement of his scholiasts. Perhaps in 799 f. he was thinking, in
spite of the dream oracle, only of a ~keno\n sê=ma~ of Odysseus in
Aetolia (as in the case of Kalchas).]
[98\4: Grave of Prot.: Hdt. ix, 116 ff.; Lyc. 532 ff. ~hiero\n tou=
Prôtesila/ou~ Thuc. viii, 102, 3. Oracle: Philostr., _Her._ 678, p.
146 f. K. It was esp. also an oracle of healing: ib., 147, 30 f. K.]
[99\4: An oracle "_Sarpedonis in Troade_" is mentioned in a cursory
enumeration of oracular sites by Tert., _An._ 46. It is difficult to
imagine how Sarpedon, the Homeric one--no other can be meant
here--whose body had been so ceremoniously brought to Lykia, can
have had an oracle in the Troad. It may be merely a slip of the pen
on Tertullian's part.--At Seleucia in Cilicia there was an oracle of
Apollo Sarpedonios, D.S. 32, 10, 2; Zos. 1, 57. Wesseling on D.S.
ii, p. 519, has already called attention to the more detailed
account in the _Vit. S. Theclae_ of Basilius bishop of Seleucia; see
the extracts given by R. Köhler, _Rhein. Mus._ 14, 472 ff. There the
oracle is described {152} as a dream-oracle of Sarpedon himself who
was consulted at his grave in Seleucia. It is also certain, as
Köhler remarks, that Sarpedon, the son of Europa and brother of
Minos, is meant. (This Cretan Sarpedon appears first in Hesiod and
is quite distinct from the Homeric one: Aristonic. on ~Z~ 199.
Indeed, Homer knows no other brother of Minos except Rhadamanthys:
~X~ 322. In spite of this he was often regarded as the same as the
Homeric Sarpedon who came from Lykia [cf. the name Zrppädoni on the
Obelisk of Xanthos: _Lyc. Inscr._ tab. vii, l. 6]; acc. to
[Apollod.] 3, 1, 3, he lived through three ~geneai/~, cf. Schol. V.,
~Z~ 199: which seems a marvellous feat much in the manner of
Hellanikos. Others made the Cretan Sarp. into the grandfather of the
Lykian: D.S. 5, 79, 3.) The oracle belonged properly to Sarpedon;
Apollo seems merely to have been an intruder here and to have taken
the place of the Hero as he did with Hyakinthos at Amyklai. That
Sarpedon, however, was not therefore quite forgotten is shown by the
Christian notice of him. Perhaps Apollo was regarded as merely the
patron of the oracle whose real guardian was still Sarpedon. It
certainly indicates community of worship when Ap. is there called
~Apo/llôn Sarpêdo/nios~; so too in Tarentum--brought thither from
Sparta and Amyklai--there was a ~ta/phos para\ me/n tisin
Huaki/nthou prosagoreuo/menos, para\ de/ tisin Apo/llônos
Huaki/nthou~ (in which no alteration is necessary), Plb. 8, 30, 2.
In Goityn there was a cult of Atymnos (Solin. 11, 9, p. 73 Mom.),
the beloved of Apollo (or of Sarpedon): he too was worshipped as
Apollo Atymnios (Nonn., _D._ 11, 131; 258; 12, 217).]
[100\4: The inhabitants of Gadeira sacrificed to Men.; Philostr.,
_VA._ 5, 4, p. 167, 10 K. ~to\ Menesthe/ôs _mantei=on_~ on the
Baetis is mentioned by Str., p. 140. How it got there we do not
know.]
[101\4: Str. 546. Autol. came there as a sharer in the expedition of
Herakles against the Amazons and with the Argonauts. A.R. ii,
955-61. Plut., _Luc._ 23.]
[102\4: For Anios see Meineke, _An. Alex._ 16-17; Wentzel in
Pauly-Wissowa _Anios_. Apollo taught him the mantic art and gave him
great ~tima/s~: D.S. 5, 62, 2. He is called ~ma/ntis~ also by Clem.
Al., _Strom._ i, p. 400 P. Perhaps he was also a mantic Hero in the
cult that was paid to him at Delos; in giving a list of the
~dai/monas epichôri/ous~, Clem. Al., _Protr._ ii, p. 35 P., mentions
also ~para\ d' Êlei/ous A/nion~, which Sylburg corrected to ~para\
Dêli/ois~. A priest of Anios ~hiereu\s Ani/ou~ at Delos is given
_CIA._ ii, 985 D 10; E 4, 53.]
[103\4: D.S. 5, 63, 2. There she is identified with Molpadia,
daughter of Staphylos. In that case ~hêmithe/a~ would more probably
be an adjectival title of a Heroine whose real name was unknown,
like the names of the unknown Heroes mentioned above, nn. 60-2. The
daughter of Kyknos of the same name is quite a different person.]
[104\4: Plut., _Agis_, 9, cf. Cic., _Div._ i, 43. At Thalamai we
hear of a dream-oracle of _Ino_ in front of which was a statue of
Pasiphaë: Paus. 3, 26, 1. This probably means, as Welcker, _Kl.
Schr._ iii, 92, says, that the same oracle had once belonged to
Pas., but had then been afterwards dedicated to Ino. (Not of course
that Pasiphaë = Ino, and this is not suggested by W., but merely
that Ino may have taken the place of Pas.) A ~mantei=on tê=s
Pasiphi/lês~ is also mentioned by Apollon., _Mir._ 49: see also
Müller, _FHG._ ii, 288 [see Keller, _Paradoxogr._, p. 55, 15].]
[105\4: Something of the kind seems to be suggested by Pi., _P._
viii, 57: I praise Alkmaion ~gei/tôn ho/ti moi kai\ ktea/nôn phu/lax
emô=n hupa/ntase/ t' io/nti ga=s omphalo\n par' aoi/dimon
manteuma/tôn t' epha/psato suggo/noisi {153} te/chnais~. Those
much-discussed words I can only interpret as follows. Alkmaion had a
~hêrô=|on~ near Pindar's house: he could only be "Guardian of his
possessions" if he were either the guardian spirit of his neighbour
or if Pindar had deposited money for safe keeping in his temple--the
custom is well known, see Büchsenschütz, _Besitz in Cl. Alt._, p.
508 ff. As Pindar was once thinking of going to Delphi "Alk. applied
himself to the prophetic arts traditional in his family"
(~te/chnais~ to be connected with ~epha/ps.~, a construction common
in Pind.): i.e. he made him a revelation in a dream--on what subject
Pindar does not say--as was customary in the family of the
Amythaonidai, though not generally undertaken by Alkmaion (elsewhere
who unlike his brother Amphilochos nowhere seems to have had a
dream-oracle of his own. (It seems to be a mere slip when Clem. Al.,
_Str._ i, p. 400 P. attributes the Oracle in Akarnania to Alk.
instead of Amphil.)]
[106\4: Plu., _Q. Gr._, 40, 300 D.]
[107\4: Thus no herald might approach the heroön of Okridion in
Rhodes, Plu., _Q. Gr._, 27, 297 C. No flute-player might approach,
nor the name of Achilles be mentioned in the heroön of Tenes at
Tenedos, ib., 28, 297 D. How an old grievance of a Hero might be
continued into his after-life as a spirit is shown by an instructive
example given by Hdt. v, 67.]
[108\4: Paus. 9, 38, 5. The fetters were no doubt intended in such
cases to fasten the statue (as the abode of the Hero himself) to the
site of his worship. Thus in Sparta an ~a/galma archai=on~ of
Enyalios was kept in fetters. About this the ~gnô/mê tô=n
Lakedaimoni/ôn~ was that ~ou/pote to\n Enua/lion pheu/gonta
oichê/sesthai/ sphisin enecho/menon tai=s pe/dais~, Paus. 3, 15, 7.
Similar things elsewhere: Lob., _Agl._ 275; cf. again Paus. 8, 41,
6. The striking effect of the statue fastened to the rocks may then
very well have given rise to the (aetiological) legend of the
~pe/tran e/chon ei/dôlon~.]
[109\4: Hdt. vii, 169-70.]
[110\4: Hdt. vii, 134-7.]
[111\4: Sanctity of trees and groves dedicated to a Hero: Ael.,
_VH._ v, 17: Paus. 2, 28, 7; but esp. 8, 24, 7.]
[112\4: The story of the wrath of the Hero of Anagyros is told, with
a few variations in detail, by Jerome ap. Suid. ~Ana/g. dai/môn~ =
Apostol. ix, 79; Dgn., _Prov._ iii, 31 (in cod. Coisl., p. 219 f.
Götting.); cf. Zenob. ii, 55 = Dgn. i, 25. Similar stories of a
~dai/môn Kili/kios, Ai/neios~, are implied but not related by
Macarius, iii, 18 (ii, p. 155 Gött.).]
[113\4: The story in Suid. goes back to Hieron. Rhod. ~peri\
tragô|diopoiô=n~ (_fr._ 4 Hill.), who compared the story with the
theme of the Euripides _Phoenix_.]
[114\4: According to Paus. the ghost was explained to be one of the
companions of Odysseus. Strabo says more particularly Polites, who
was one of these. But a copy of an ancient picture representing the
adventure called the daimon Lykas and made him black and
grim-looking and dressed in a wolf-skin. The last is probably merely
symbolic and represents _full_ wolf-shape such as belonged to the
Athenian Hero Lykos: Harp. ~deka/zôn~. Wolf-shape given to a
death-bringing spirit of the underworld, as often: cf. Roscher,
_Kynanth._ 60-1. This must have been the more ancient form of the
legend and the daimon was only subsequently changed into a Hero.]
[115\4: The story in its general outline recalls esp. the other
Greek legends in which similar rescues occur; we are reminded not
merely of the stories of Perseus and Andromeda or Herakles and
Hesione, but also of the fight of Herakles with Thanatos for the
sake of Alkestis, {154} in Eurip., _Alc._, and of Koroibos' struggle
with the ~Poi/nê~ in Argos. But the story of Euthymos and the Hero
of Temesa agrees even in its details with a story coming from a far
distant locality, Krisa at the foot of Mt. Parnassos, where lived
the monster Lamia, or Sybaris, who was overthrown by Eurybatos--as
it is told in Nikander's ~Heteroiou/mena~, ap. Ant. Lib. viii--and
is even to this day related as a fairy-tale; see B. Schmidt. _Gr.
Märchen_, 142, 246 f. It is unnecessary to suppose imitation of
either legend by the other; both independently reproduce the same
fairy-tale motif, which is in fact very common everywhere. The
monster overcome by the champion is regularly a chthonic being, a
fiend from below: Thanatos, Poine, Lamia (which is the generic name,
~Su/baris~ being apparently the special name of this particular
Lamia) and the ghostly "Hero" of Temesa.]
[116\4: Paus. 6, 6, 7-11, the main source; Str. 255; Ael., _VH._
viii, 18; Plut. Paroem. ii, 31; Suid. ~Eu/thumos~. The "translation"
occurs in Paus. Ael., and Suid. According to Aelian he went to the
River Kaikinos near his old home Locri and disappeared:
~aphanisthê=nai~. (The river-god Kaikinos is regarded as his real
father: Paus. 6, 6, 4.) Perhaps the heroön of Euthymos may have been
near the river. "Heroizing" of Euthymos by a flash of lightning is
confirmed by his statue: Callim., _fr._ 399; Pliny, _NH._ 7, 152;
Schol. Paus. _Hermes_, 29, 148. Inscription on base of statue of E.
at Olympia: _Arch. Zeit._, 1878, p. 82.]
[117\4: Paus. 6, 11, 2-9; D. Chr. 31, 340 M. [i, 247 Arn.]. Cf.
Oinom. ap. Eus. _PE._ 5, 34, p. 231-2 V. Oinomaos 232 C refers to a
similar legend of the _pentathlos_ Euthykles and his statue, at
Locri.]
[118\4: The story of Mitys (or Bitys) in Argos is known from Arist.
_Po._ 9, p. 1452a, 7 ff. (_Mirab._ 156). A few more such stories are
recorded in Wyttenbach, Plu. _M._ vii, p. 316 (Oxon.); cf. also
Theoc. 23. Just as in the story of Theagenes, the statue was
punished as responsible for the murder, so, too, the attribution of
a fetichistic personality to inanimate objects lies at the bottom of
the ancient customs observed in the Athenian murder laws, by which
judgment was given in the Prytaneion ~peri\ tô=n apsu/chôn tô=n
empeso/ntôn tini\ kai\ apokteina/ntôn~: Poll. viii, 120, after Dem.
23, 76, cf. Arist. ~Athp.~ 57, 4. Such judgments cannot originally
have been merely symbolical in meaning.]
[119\4: Luc., _D. Conc._ 12; Paus. 6, 11, 9.]
[120\4: Luc., l.c. On Polydamas see Paus. 6, 5, and among many
others Eus. _Chron. Olympionic._, Ol. 93, p. 204 Sch.]
[121\4: His victory was won in Ol. 6 (see also Eus. _Chron._, Ol. 6,
p. 196); the statue erected to him only in Ol. 80; Paus. 7, 17, 6.]
[122\4: Paus. 7, 17, 13-14.]
[123\4: Plu., _Thes._ 35.]
[124\4: Paus. 1, 15, 3; 32, 5.]
[125\4: Hdt. viii, 38-9.]
[126\4: Hdt. viii, 64. The difference should be noted: ~_eu/xasthai_
toi=si theoi=si kai\ _epikale/sasthai_ tou\s Aiaki/das
_summa/chous_~. So, too, we are told in Hdt. v, 75, that both the
Tyndaridai ~epi/klêtoi ei/ponto~ the Spartans into the field. (The
Aeginetans sent the Aiakidai to the help of the Thebans, but as they
proved unprofitable the Thebans ~tou\s Aiaki/das apedi/dosan~. Hdt.
v, 80).]
[127\4: Plu., _Them._ 15.]
[128\4: Hdt. viii, 121.]
[129\4: Kychreus: Paus. 1, 36, 1. The Hero himself appeared as a
snake, as also e.g. Sosipolis in Elis before the battle, Paus. 6,
20, 4-5; Erichthonios, Paus. 1, 24, 7: for ~hoi palaioi\ ma/lista
tô=n zô/ôn to\n dra/konta toi=s hê/rôsi sunô|kei/ôsan~, Plu.,
_Cleom._ 39. The temple snake, {155} the ~Kuchrei/dês o/phis~ kept
at Eleusis, was undoubtedly the Hero himself; though acc. to the
rationalizing account in Str. 393-4 it had merely been reared by
Kychreus.]
[130\4: Themistokles in Hdt. viii, 109.]
[131\4: Xen., _Cyn._ i, 17.]
[132\4: The Dioscuri helped the Spartans in war, Hdt. v, 75; the
Locrian Aias the Locrians in Italy: Paus. 3, 19, 12-13; Conon 18
(artistically elaborated and no longer naive legend but both taken
from the same source).]
[133\4: Hdt. vi, 61 (hence Paus. 3, 7, 7); grave of Helen at
Therapne, Paus. 3, 19, 8.]
[134\4: Hdt. vi, 69. Thus, too, the Theagenes mentioned above was
regarded in Thasos not as the son of Timosthenes, ~tou= Theage/nous
de\ tê=| mêtri\ Hêrakle/ous suggene/sthai pha/sma eoiko\s
Timosthe/nei~, Paus. 6, 11, 2.--Everyone will be reminded, too, of
the fable of Zeus and Alkmene. But it should be noticed how near
such stories as that so naively told by Herod. approach the risky
novel-plot in which some profane mortal visits in disguise an
unsuspecting woman and plays the part of a god or spirit-lover. That
in Greece, too, such stories were current we may perhaps deduce from
Eur., _Ion_, 1530 ff. Ov., _M._ iii, 281; says outright: multi
nomine divorum thalamos iniere pudicos. An adventure of this sort is
told by the writer of [Aeschines] _Ep._ 10, and he is able to
produce two similar cases which he certainly has not invented
himself (8-9).--In more recent times both western and Oriental
nations have delighted in telling such stories; a typical Oriental
example is the story of "the Weaver as Vishnu" in the Panchatantra
(see Benfey, _Pantsch._ i, § 56); in the West there is the story of
Boccaccio dealing with Alberto of Imola as the angel Gabriel,
_Decam._ iv, 2--Very suspicious, too, seems the account of a miracle
that occurred in Epidauros: a barren woman comes to the temple of
Asklepios to seek advice by ~egkoi/mêsis~. A big snake approaches
her and she has a child. ~Eph. Arch.~ 1885, pp. 21-2, l. 129 ff.]
[135\4: ~ek tou= hêrôi/ou tou= para\ tê=|si thu/rê|si **tê=|si
aulei/ê|si hidrume/nou~, Hdt. vi, 69.]
[136\4: Hero ~epi\ prothu/rô|~, Callim., _Ep._ 26; a Hero ~pro\
pu/lais, pro\ do/moisin~, late epigram from Thrace, _Epigr. Gr._
841; ~hê/rôas plêsi/on tê=s tou= ido/ntos oiki/as hidrume/nous~,
Artemid. iv, 79, p. 248, 9 H. This, too, is how Pindar's words about
the Hero Alkmaion as his ~gei/tôn~ are to be understood: _Pyth._
viii, 57, see above, n. 105. An Aesopian fable dealing with the
relations of a man with his neighbour-Hero begins ~hê/rôa/ tis epi\
tê=s oiki/as e/chôn tou/tô| polutelô=s e/thuen~, 161 Halm.; cf. also
Babr. 63.--A similar idea is at work when a son put up a monument to
his father at the doorway of his house--see the fine lines of Eur.,
_Hel._ 1165 ff.]
[137\4: ~Ku/prô| e/ntha Teu=kros _apa/rchei_~. Aias ~_e/chei_~
Salamis and Achilles his island in the Pontus; ~The/tis de\
_kratei=_ Phthi/a|~, and so, too, Neoptolemos in Epirus: Pi., _N._
iv, 46-51; ~_amphe/pei_~ used of a Hero, _P._ ix, 70; ~toi=s theoi=s
kai\ hê/rôsi toi=s _kate/chousi_ tê\n po/lin kai\ tê\n chô/ran tê\n
Athênai/ôn~: Dem. 18, 184.]
[138\4: Cf. Alabandus whom the inhabitants of Alabanda sanctius
colunt quam quemquam nobilium deorum: Cic., _ND._ iii, 50 (in
connexion with an anecdote relating to the fourth century)--Tenem,
qui apud Tenedios sanctissimus deus habetur, Cic., _V._ ii, 1, 49.]
{{156}}
CHAPTER V
THE CULT OF SOULS
Greek civilization as we see it reflected in the Homeric poems
strikes us as so variously developed, and yet so complete in itself,
that if we had no further sources of information, we should
naturally suppose that the characteristic culture of the Greeks
there reached the highest point attainable under the conditions set
by national character and external circumstance. In reality the
Homeric poems stand on the border line between an older development
that has come to complete maturity and a new, and in many ways
differently constituted, order of things. The poems themselves offer
an idealized picture of a past that was on the point of disappearing
entirely. The profound upheavals of the following centuries can be
measured by their final results; we can guess the underlying forces
from a study of the individual symptoms. But the fact remains that
in the very imperfect state of our information about this period of
transformation, we can do little more than recognize the existence
of all the conditions necessary for a complete reorganization of
Greek life. We can see how the once less-important races in Greece
now come into the foreground of history; how they set up new
kingdoms by the right of conquest on the ruins of the old, and bring
into prominence their own special ways of thinking. Colonization
over a wide area meant the expansion of Greek life; while the
colonies themselves, as is so often the case, traversed all the
stages of development at a much faster rate. Commerce and industry
developed, calling forth and satisfying new demands. New elements of
the population came to the fore, governments began to fall and the
old rule of the kings gave way to Aristocracy, Tyranny, Democracy.
In friendly and (in the West especially) hostile relationship the
Greeks came into contact more than formerly with foreign peoples in
every stage of civilization who influenced them in many directions.
All these great movements must have produced many fresh currents in
intellectual life too. And in fact the attempt to get free from
tradition, from the long-standing culture that seemed, when
reflected in the Homeric poems, so permanent and {157} complete in
itself, is seen most clearly in the sphere of poetry. The poets
threw off the tyranny of the epic convention. They ceased to obey
its formal verse-rhythm. And with the freedom thus gained from its
vocabulary of stock words, phrases, and images, it was inevitable
that the point of view also should change and gain in width. The
poet no longer turns his gaze away from his own time and his own
person. He himself becomes the central figure of his poetry, and to
express the ferment of his own emotions he invents for himself the
most natural rhythm, in close alliance with music which now becomes
an important and independent element in Greek life. It is as though
the Greeks had just discovered the full extent of their own
capacities and dared to make free use of them. In every branch of
the plastic arts the hand of the artist wins in the course of the
centuries an ever greater capacity to give visible shape to the
imagined world of beauty. Even the ruins of that world reveal to us
more plainly and impressively (because less mixed with conscious
reflexion) than any literary achievement, the thing that is of
permanent value in Greek art.
It was impossible that religion, alone unaffected by the general
atmosphere of change, should remain unaltered in the old paths. But
here, even more than in other directions, we must admit that the
inward reality of the change remains hidden from us. We can see
indeed many external alterations, but of the directing spirit which
called them forth we hardly catch more than a glimpse. It is easy,
by comparing the later condition of religion with the Homeric, to
see how enormously the _objects_ of religious worship have
multiplied. We can see how much more sumptuous and elaborate
ceremonial has become and observe the development in beauty and
variety, in conjunction with the fine arts, of the great religious
festivals of the different cities and peoples of Greece. Temples and
sculpture bear unmistakable witness to the increased power and
importance of religion. That an inward and far-reaching change had
come over religious thought and belief might have been already
guessed from the fame and importance which belonged to the oracle at
Delphi, now coming into real power; and from the many new
developments in Greek religious life taking their origin from this
spiritual centre. At this time there grew up, under the influence of
a deepening moral sense, that new interpretation of religion that we
meet with in its completed form in Aeschylus and Pindar. The age was
decidedly more "religious-minded" than that in which Homer lived. It
is as though the Greeks then went through a period such as {158}
most civilized nations go through at some time or other, and such as
the Greeks themselves were to repeat more than once in after
centuries--a period in which the mind after it has at least half
succeeded in winning its freedom from disquieting and oppressive
beliefs in invisible powers shrinks back once more. Under the
influence of adversity it feels the need of some comforting
illusions behind which it may take shelter and be relieved in part
of the burden of responsibility.
The obscurity of this period of growth hides also from our sight the
origin and development of beliefs about the soul very different from
the Homeric. The results of the process are however visible enough
and we can still discern how a regular cult of the disembodied soul
and eventually a belief in immortality fully worthy of the name were
being built up at this time. These things are the result of
phenomena which partly represent the re-emergence of elements in
religious life which had been submerged in the previous period, and
partly the entry of fresh forces which in conjunction with the
resuscitated old give rise between them to a third and new creation.
I
CULT OF THE CHTHONIC DEITIES
The chief new feature revealing itself to comparative study in the
development of religion in the post-Homeric period is the worship of
_chthonic_ deities, that is, of deities dwelling in the interior of
the earth. And yet it is an undoubted fact that these divinities are
among the oldest possessions of Greek religious faith. Indeed, bound
as they are to the soil of the country, they are the true local
deities, the real gods of home and country. They are also not
unknown to Homer; but epic poetry had transferred them, divested of
all local limitation, to a distant subterranean region, inaccessible
to living men, beyond the limits of Okeanos. There Aïdes and the
terrible Persephoneia rule as guardians of the dead. From that
distant and unapproachable place they can have no influence upon the
life and doings of men on earth. Religious cult, too, only knows
these deities in connexion with particular localities and particular
groups of worshippers. Each of these worships the deities of the
underworld as denizens of their soil and their countryside alone.
They are untroubled by any considerations of a general and uniform
kingdom of the gods such as the epic had set up; nor are they
disturbed by similar and conflicting claims made by neighbouring
{159} communities. And only in these local cults are the gods of the
lower world seen in their true nature as they were conceived by the
faith of their worshippers. They are the gods of a settled,
agricultural, inland population. Dwelling beneath the soil they
guarantee two things to their worshippers: they bless the
cultivation of the ground and ensure the increase of the fruits of
the soil to the living; they receive the souls of the dead into
their underworld.[1\5] In certain places they also send up from the
spirit-world revelations of future events.
The most exalted name we met with among these dwellers below the
earth is that of Zeus Chthonios. This is at once the most general
and the most exclusive designation of the god of the lower world;
for the name "Zeus" had in many local cults thus preserved the
generalized meaning of "god" in combination with a particularizing
adjective. The Iliad also once speaks of "Zeus of the lower world";
though by this is meant none other than the ruler of the distant
realm of the dead, Hades. Hades too, in the Hesiodic Theogony is
once called "Zeus the Chthonian".[2\5] But the agricultural poem of
Hesiod bids the Boeotian countryman, when preparing his fields for
sowing, pray for a blessing to the Chthonic Zeus. Zeus Chthonios was
also sacrificed to in Mykonos for the "fruits of the earth".[3\5]
But, more frequently than under this most general and exalted
title,[4\5] we meet with the god of the living and the dead under
various disguises. The gods of the underworld were generally
referred to by affectionate or cajoling nicknames that laid stress
on the lofty or beneficent character of their rule and threw a veil
over the darkest side of their nature with conciliatory
euphemism.[5\5] Thus Hades had many flattering titles and special
names.[6\5] So, too, in many places Zeus of the underworld was
worshipped as Zeus Eubouleus or Bouleus,[7\5] at other places,
especially Hermione, as Klymenos.[8\5] Zeus Amphiaraos, Zeus
Trophonios we have dealt with already in their capacity of Heroes,
but they are really nothing else but such earth deities with
honourable titles, who have been deprived to some extent of their
full status as gods[9\5] and have on that account developed all the
more strongly the oracular side of their powers. Hades, the ruler of
that distant kingdom of darkness, is one of this class of
manifestations of Zeus Chthonios that vary in name according to the
different localities of their worship. The king of the shadows in
Erebos as he appears in Homer has no altars or sacrifices made to
him[10\5]; but these things belong to him as the local god of
particular places. In the Peloponnese there were local centres {160}
of his worship in Elis and Triphylia,[11\5] sites of a very ancient
civilization; and it is probable enough that tribes and clans having
their origin there contributed by their wanderings to the spread of
their native cult of the chthonic deity in other Greek countries as
well.[12\5] Hades, too, was for his Peloponnesian worshippers a god
of the fertility of the earth just as much as a god of the
dead.[13\5] And in the same way he was the lord of the Souls as
well, in those places where "in fear of the name of Hades"[14\5] he
was called, in honour of his beneficent powers, Plouton, Plouteus,
or Zeus Plouteus.
The welfare of the living and the dead was also the concern of the
female deity of the underworld called by the name of the earth
itself Ge or Gaia. At the places where she was worshipped she was
regarded as one who brought fruitfulness to the fields, but she held
sway over the souls of the dead as well, in conjunction with whom
prayers and sacrifice were offered to her.[15\5] Her temples
remained in honour, especially at Athens and at the primeval centre
of ancient worship of the gods, Olympia.[16\5] But her personality
had never been quite reduced to definite and intelligible outline
from the enormous vagueness natural to primitive deities.
Earth-goddesses of more recent and intelligible form had supplanted
her. She retained longest her mantic powers which she exercised from
beneath the earth, the abode of spirits and souls, at ancient
oracular sites--though even here she often had to give way to
oracular gods of another description, such as Zeus and Apollo. A
poet indeed mentions her once side by side with the great ruler of
the lower world,[17\5] but in actual worship she was seldom found
among the groups of male and female deities of chthonic nature such
as were worshipped together at many places. Above all, at Hermione
there flourished from primitive times a solemn cult of the
lower-world Demeter in conjunction with the lower-world Zeus, under
the name of Klymenos, and with Kore.[18\5] At other places Plouton
and these two goddesses were worshipped together, or Zeus Eubouleus
and the same two, etc.[19\5] The names of the underworld god vary
indefinitely, but the names of Demeter and her divine daughter
appear every time unchanged. Either alone or together, and
worshipped in connexion with other related deities, these two
goddesses have by far the most important place in the cult of the
underworld. The fame and widespread popularity of their cult in all
Greek cities of the mother-country and in the colonies proves more
than anything else that since Homeric times a change must have taken
place in the sphere of religious emotion and service of the gods.
{161}
Homer gives no hint of the character or importance of the later cult
of Demeter and Persephone. For him Persephone is simply the grim
unapproachable Queen of the dead, Demeter invariably (and solely) a
goddess of the fertility of crops[20\5]; she stands apart indeed
from the rest of the Olympians, but no reference to a close
association with her daughter is ever made.[21\5] Now, however, both
goddesses appear in various and changing activity, but always
closely associated, and it seems as if they had come to share some
of their previously distinct characteristics. Both are now chthonic
deities who together have in their protection the growth of the
crops and the care of the souls of the dead. How in detail the
change came about we can no longer discover. It may be that, in the
times of the great migrations, from various centres of the worship
of the two goddesses, such as had existed from great antiquity in
the Peloponnese especially,[22\5] there issued forth this faith that
differed so essentially from the Homeric-Ionic view of things. It
must have spread just as in later times the special variety of the
cult of the closely associated goddesses that was practised in
Eleusis was widely propagated by regular missions. It also seems
that Demeter, in whose name there was early a tendency to recognize
a second "Mother Earth," in many places took the place of Gaia in
religious cult, and thereby entered into closer connexion with the
realm of the souls below the earth.
§ 2
As the numbers of the underworld beings increased, and their cult
grew and expanded, these divinities began to have a very different
meaning for the living from what they once had for the Greeks of the
Homeric age. The upper and the lower worlds are drawn closer to each
other; the world of the living borders upon that world after death
over which the chthonic gods hold sway. The ancient belief that the
earth-caverns of their own land, on which men dwelt and worked, were
the near and accessible abode of divinity, now reappeared here and
there, and was no longer completely awed into silence by the poetic
lustre of the all-embracing divine world of Olympos. We have spoken
in a previous chapter of Amphiaraos at Thebes, Trophonios in the
Lebadean cave, and Zeus in the cave on Mt. Ida; and again of that
Zeus who was seen enthroned by those who descended into a cave in
Epirus. These are all vestiges of the same belief which originally
underlay all local cults of underworld deities. The realm of {162}
chthonic gods, of spirits and departed souls, seemed to be close at
hand. _Ploutonia_, i.e. direct inlets to the underworld, existed at
many places,[23\5] as also did _Psychopompeia_, clefts in the rock
through which the souls can pass out into the upper world. In the
middle of the city of Athens, in a natural chasm on the Areiopagos,
underworld beings were reputed to have their home.[24\5] The most
striking denial of the separation between the living and the
underworld, such as was demanded by Homeric theology, was at
Hermione. Here, behind the temple of Chthonia lay a sacred precinct
of Plouton or Klymenos with a chasm in the ground through which
Herakles had once brought up Kerberos to the earth--and an
"Acherusian Lake".[25\5] So near did the spirit world seem here,
that the people of Hermione did not give their dead the usual coin
to pay the fare of Charon, the ferryman of the dead:[26\5] for
_them_, in whose own country lay the river Acheron, no tract of
water lay between the land of the living and the dead.
More important than these cases of contact between the dark
underworld and the world of the living--for the localization of the
underworld still remained for the most part matter of fancy--is the
fact that the creatures of that world are again drawing closer to
the senses of men. The thoughts of men turn more frequently to the
other world at so many festivals and anniversaries; the gods who
rule below desire and repay the veneration of mankind, both of the
individual and the city. And in the train of the chthonic gods the
souls of the dead, always closely bound to them, receive a cult
which in many particulars goes beyond anything customary in the
Homeric Age.
II
FUNERAL CEREMONIES AND WORSHIP OF THE DEAD
The first duty that the survivors owe to their dead is to bury the
body in the customary manner. This age takes the matter more
seriously than the Homeric people had done. Whereas in Homer denial
of burial to enemies fallen in war is often mentioned, it is now
regarded as a religious duty that is seldom neglected to give back
the bodies of the fallen foe for burial. To deny the honour of
burial to members of one's own city is an outrage of the most
extreme kind; everyone knows what terrible vengeance for such a
neglect of duty was taken, by the excited populace at Athens, on the
generals after Arginousai. Nothing can release a son from the duty
of burying his father and offering him the regular gifts at his
{163} grave.[27\5] And if the relations, in spite of everything,
neglect their task the law at Athens requires the Demarch to see to
the burial of his fellow demesman.[28\5] Religious requirements,
however, go beyond the law. At the solemn agricultural festival of
Demeter the Bouzyges at Athens invoked a curse on all who should
leave a corpse unburied.[29\5] This matter, which the chthonic
deities take under their protection, is no mere sanitary police
regulation. It is not any such consideration, but solely the
"unwritten laws" of religion which are obeyed by Antigone when she
covers the dead body of her brother with a little dust: even such
symbolical burial is enough to avert the "abomination" (~a/gos~).
Motives of pure piety may have played their part, but the really
fundamental idea underlying all such practices was the one already
met with in the Iliad:[30\5] that the soul of the unburied person
can find no rest in the hereafter. The ghost haunts the
neighbourhood, its rage afflicts the land in which it is detained
against its will; and the withholding of burial "is worse for the
**withholder than for him to whom burial is refused".[31\5]
Condemned criminals, indeed, are thrown by the state, unburied, into
a pit;[32\5] the sacrilegious and traitors to their country are
denied burial in the ground of that country.[33\5] This is a
formidable punishment, for even though the outlaw is buried in a
foreign country,[34\5] his soul cannot be permanently tended there.
Only the family of the dead in their own home can give their
departed kinsman the honour due to him in the cult of the souls, and
only they at the spot where his remains lie buried.[35\5]
What we know of the details of the funeral ceremonies, differs very
little in essence from what had survived into the Homeric age as
customs no longer fully explained by contemporary belief. The new
features that we meet with may also, for the most part, be very
primitive usage restored to currency. Some of the particular details
make the solemnity of the act more apparent.
After the eyes and mouth have been closed by the next of kin the
body is washed and anointed by women of the family, and clothed in
clean garments. It is then laid out upon a bier in the interior of
the house for the ceremonial lying-in-state. In Athens marjoram was
strewn under the body, for superstitious reasons,[36\5] and also
four broken-off vine branches; in the grave, also, the corpse lay on
vine branches.[37\5] Underneath the bier were placed ointment
vessels of the peculiar slim shape that the graves have restored to
us again in such numbers. At the door of the room, for the benefit
of those leaving the house who had incurred religious defilement by
coming in contact {164} with the corpse, was placed a bowl full of
pure water brought in from another house.[38\5] Cypress branches
fixed upon the house door outside warned the scrupulous that a
corpse was in the house.[39\5] The head of the dead person was
generally decked with garlands and fillets, in a manner unknown to
the Homeric age, as a sign, it appears, of respect for the higher
sanctity of the departed.[40\5]
The lying-in-state of the dead, lasting the whole of one day, was
certainly not intended originally to serve the purpose of a public
"notification of death", such as later writers attribute to
it.[41\5] The funeral dirge was sung at the bier of the dead man,
and to give opportunity for this ceremony was its real purpose. The
habit of the old Attic government of the Eupatridai had increased
the pomp of funeral ceremonies in every direction, and had
encouraged an extravagant cult of the souls of the departed. Solon's
legislation had to restrain and limit such exaggeration in many
ways, and in particular, the tendency to increase unduly the
lamentation sung over the dead body required to be kept within
bounds. Only the women of the immediate family of the dead might
take part in it, for to them alone the cult of the departed belonged
as a duty.[42\5] The violent expression of grief, the tearing of the
cheeks, beating the breast and head, was forbidden,[43\5] as also
was the singing of "poems",[44\5] i.e. in all probability regular
funeral dirges specially written for the purpose such as Homer made
the women sing round Hektor's bier. To extend the subject of the
funeral dirge to apply to others beside the person then being buried
had to be made absolutely illegal.[45\5] This prohibition must also
have been applied already to the gathering at the graveside. But to
sacrifice animals before the procession to the grave was a very
ancient custom, and it seems as if Solon **forbade this too.[46\5]
In other states, also, legislation was necessary to put a curb on
the tendency to overdo the violence of the expressions of grief for
the dead[47\5] which were common in the antiquity of the Greeks as
among many of the "uncivilized" tribes who carry them to the point
of exhaustion. It was not simple piety or natural human grief (never
particularly given to violent or excessive demonstration) that
caused these things. It was rather the ancient belief that the soul
of the dead was still invisibly present, and would be pleased at the
most violent expressions of grief for its loss.[48\5] The dirge,
carried to this extreme, belongs in fact to the _cult_ of the
departed spirit. The restraints placed upon the traditional
lamentation may in their turn--in so far as they were effective--
have been derived not from considerations of good {165} sense (which
rarely have much influence in such matters) but from religious or
superstitious reasons.[49\5]
The lying-in-state of the body seems invariably to have lasted for
one day only.[50\5] In the early morning of the third day[51\5]
after death the corpse, together with the bier on which it lay, was
borne out of the house. Legislation was in some places necessary to
check excessive ostentation at the funeral procession.[52\5] What
pomp and ceremony was customary in the time of the old aristocratic
rule at this part of the cult of the dead, we may gather (if it
corresponded at all to reality) from the picture of a funeral
procession represented on a very archaic "Dipylon vase".[53\5] There
the body is carried on high on a wagon drawn by two horses: men
carrying swords surround it, and a whole company of women, making
lamentation and beating their heads, follow the procession. At
Athens the attendance in the procession was confined, in the case of
women at least, to those of the immediate kinsfolk (for three
generations). The men, who had their place in front of the women
seem to have been admitted without such restriction.[54\5] The
admission of hired companies of Karian women and men, singing the
national dirges, seems at Athens not to have been forbidden.[55\5]
At Keos and elsewhere, the laws ordered processions to the grave to
be conducted in silence.[56\5] On the whole, the discipline of
respectable city life reduced the "excessive and barbaric",[57\5]
which must once have been the rule in the display of mourning, to a
discreet symbolism.
On the details of the burial procedure our information is
incomplete. Occasional expressions used by Greek authors allow us to
conclude--and this is confirmed by the excavation of graves in Greek
countries--that besides the custom, exclusively prevailing in
Homeric times, of cremation, the more ancient practice of burying
the body unburnt was still kept up.[58\5] The body was not intended
to be completely destroyed. Out of the ashes of the funeral pyre the
son carefully gathers the remains of his father's bones[59\5] in
order to bury them, enclosed in an urn or a box. If on the other
hand the body remains unburnt, it is either enclosed in a coffin
made of baked clay, or wood[60\5]--a custom clearly betraying its
foreign origin, or else--and this must have been certainly the older
and more purely native Greek usage--it is let down into the earth
without a coffin, and laid upon a bed of leaves;[61\5] at other
times, if the nature of the ground allows, it may rest unburied in a
rock-chamber, upon a bed of stonework.[62\5]
The soul, though now set free, keeps up some connexion with the body
it once inhabited. It is for its use and pleasure {166} that an
ample provision of household implements and vessels is laid beside
the corpse (though no longer the whole of the dead man's possessions
as once was usual); and graves since opened have restored such
things in large numbers to our gaze.[63\5] But the Greeks never
seriously believed that such a phantasmal existence could be
prolonged to eternity. Elaborate expedients for the perpetual
preservation of the corpse (by embalmment and other means, such as
were employed in the case of bodies buried in the Mycenæan
shaft-graves)[64\5] were unknown in these later times--except as a
peculiar archaism in the burial of Spartan kings.
§ 2
Once the body is buried, the soul of the dead enters the invisible
company of the "Better and Superior".[65\5] This belief, which
Aristotle regarded as of primeval antiquity in Greece, emerges very
clearly in the cult-observance of these post-Homeric centuries from
the obscurity which the Homeric age had imposed upon it. The soul of
the dead has its special cult-group composed naturally enough of the
descendants and family of the dead, and of them only. There even
survived a dim memory of the time when the body of the dead was
buried inside the house, which thus became the immediate centre of
his cult.[66\5] That must quite certainly have been during an age
which knew little or nothing of the almost painful sensitiveness to
the idea of ritual "purification" such as prevailed in later times.
At least, we have no reason for supposing that the Greeks (like many
so-called "savage" peoples among whom the custom prevails of burying
the corpse within the dead man's own hut) deserted the house that
had now become haunted, and left it to the undisturbed possession of
the ghost of the dead man buried there.[67\5] To bury the dead
within the walls of the city, at least, was **considered
unobjectionable in later times by certain Dorian states.[68\5] Even
where religious scruples and the practical convenience of city life
combined to fix the place for burials outside the city walls,
families kept their graves together often in a single extensive plot
with a wall built round it.[69\5] Where a country estate belonged to
a family, this generally also included the graves of its
ancestors.[70\5]
Wherever it was situated, the grave was holy, as being the place
where later generations tended and worshipped the souls of departed
members of their family. Grave columns indicated the holiness of the
spot;[71\5] trees and sometimes a complete {167} grove surrounded
the grave, as they did so often the altars and temples of the
gods.[72\5] These were intended to serve as pleasant retreats for
the souls of the beloved dead.[73\5]
Sacrificial offerings began for the most part at the actual time of
the funeral. The custom of pouring libations of wine, oil, and honey
at the grave was probably in general use.[74\5] Even the sacrifice
of animals, such as was made at the funeral pyre of Patroklos and
even of Achilles, cannot have been unusual at an earlier period.
Solon expressly forbade the sacrifice of an ox at the grave.[75\5]
At Keos, permission is just as expressly given for a "preliminary
sacrifice to be offered at the funeral in accordance with ancestral
custom".[76\5] When the funeral ceremony is over, the members of the
family, after a solemn rite of religious purification,[77\5] put on
garlands (they had previously avoided this[78\5]) and begin the
funeral feast.[79\5] This also was a part of the cult of the dead.
The soul of the dead man was regarded as being present--even as
playing the part of host.[80\5] It was awe felt for the invisible
presence that originally inspired the custom of speaking only praise
of the dead at the funeral feast.[81\5] This feast was an
entertainment given in the house of the dead man to the surviving
members of his family. The dead man had a meal to himself alone,
which was offered at the grave[82\5] on the third and on the ninth
day after the funeral.[83\5] On the ninth day it appears that
ancient usage brought the period of mourning to an end.[84\5] Where
it was extended to a longer period the earlier series of offerings
to the dead was prolonged proportionally. Sparta had a period of
mourning lasting eleven days.[85\5] At Athens, in addition to the
sacrifice on the third and ninth days, another funeral feast which
might be repeated several times,[86\5] was held on the thirteenth
day.[87\5]
Even after the ceremonies attached to the funeral itself were at
last over, the relations of the dead were by no means released from
the duty of tending not merely the grave, but the soul of the
deceased member of their family. In particular the son and heir had
no more sacred duty to perform than the offering of "the customary
things" (~ta\ no/mima~) to the soul of his father. These consisted
above all of libations to be made to the dead on certain fixed and
recurrent festivals. On the 30th of the month there was a
traditional feast of the dead.[88\5] Besides this, every year at the
"Genesia", when the birthday of the dead came round, the occasion
was regularly celebrated with sacrifice.[89\5] The day on which he
first entered this life is still of importance to the psyche of the
dead man. It is plain that no impassable gulf was fixed between life
and {168} death: it almost seems as though life went on quite
uninterrupted by death.
Besides these variable feasts of the Genesia, celebrated as they
occurred by the individual families, there was at Athens a festival,
also called the Genesia, at which the whole citizen body did honour
to the souls of their dead relatives on the 5th Boëdromion.[90\5] We
hear also of the Nemesia as a feast of the dead in Athens[91\5]
(probably intended for the averting of the anger of the dead--always
a subject of apprehension), and of various festivals of the dead in
other Greek States.[92\5] At Athens the chief festival of all the
dead occurred at the close of the Dionysiac feast of the
Anthesteria, in the spring, of which it formed the concluding day.
This was the time when the dead swarmed up into the world of the
living, as they did in Rome on the days when the "mundus patet", and
so still in the belief of our own (German) country people at
"Twelfth-tide". The days belonged to the souls (and their master
Dionysos): they were days of "uncleanness"[93\5] unsuited to the
business of city life. The temples of the gods were closed during
that period.[94\5] As protection against the ghosts invisibly
present, the citizens employed various old and tried precautionary
measures; they chewed hawthorn leaves on their morning walk, and
smeared their doorposts with pitch. In this way the ghosts were kept
at arms length.[95\5] Each family made offering to its own dead, and
the offerings they made have remained for the most part the
appropriate gifts of the dead on their feast-days in many lands down
to modern times. A special offering was made to the dead[96\5] on
the last day of the feast, the Chytrai, which was sacred to none of
the Olympians, but to Hermes the leader of the dead. To this
god--but "for the dead"--were offered cooked vegetables and seeds in
pots (which gave their name to this day of the festival).[97\5] It
seems probable that as a sacrifice to the dead honey-cakes were
thrown into a cleft of the earth in the Temne of Ge Olympia.[98\5]
Indoors, too, the swarming ghosts entered and were entertained. They
were not, however, permanently welcome guests, and finally they were
driven out of the house in a manner parallelled at the close of
festivals of the dead among many nations of old and modern
times.[99\5] "Begone ye Keres, Anthesteria is over" were the words
used in sending away the souls, and it is remarkable that in this
formula they were given their primeval name--a name whose original
sense had been forgotten by Homer, but not by the language of the
common people of Attica.[100\5]
Individuals may have found still further opportunities of {169}
bringing gifts to their own dead and showing their reverence for
them. The cult paid by the family to the spirits of their ancestors
is hardly distinguished, except by the greater limitation of the
circle of worshippers, from the worship of underworld deities and
Heroes. In the case of the souls, however, nature itself united the
sacrificers and worshippers (and no one else) with the object of
their devotion. If we wish to form some idea of the way in which
(under the influence of a civilization that tended to reduce all
primitive grandeur to mere idyll) the worship of the dead altered
its character in the direction of piety and intimacy--we need only
look at the pictures representing such worship (though rarely before
the fourth century) on the oilflasks which were used at funerals in
Attica and then laid by the side of the dead in the grave. These
slight sketches breathe a spirit of simple kindliness; we see the
mourners decking the grave monument with wreaths and ribbons;
worshippers approaching with gestures of adoration, bringing with
them many objects of daily use--mirrors, fans, swords, etc., for the
entertainment of the dead.[101\5] Sometimes the living seek to give
pleasure to the spirit of the dead by the performance of
music.[102\5] Gifts, too, of cakes, fruit, and wine are being
made--but the blood of the sacrificial animals is never
spilt.[103\5] There was a time when more solemn--and less
comfortable--thoughts prevailed;[104\5] and of these we learn
something from the much older sculptured reliefs, found on
sepulchral monuments in Sparta, which give the dead a more
awe-inspiring attitude. The ancestral pair sit in state and are
approached by members of the family (represented as much smaller
figures) offering their worship. These bring with them flowers,
pomegranates, and sometimes even animals for sacrifice, a cock, a
pig, or a ram. Other and later types of such "banquets of the dead"
show the dead person standing up (not infrequently by the side of a
horse or lying upon a couch and accepting the drink-offering made to
him by the survivors.[105\5] These reliefs allow us to see at what a
distance the departed spirits are supposed to stand from the living:
the dead do, indeed, seem now to be "better and stronger" beings;
they are well on the road to becoming "Heroes". Drink offerings such
as those we see offered on these reliefs--a mixture of honey-water,
milk, and wine, and other liquids, offered in accordance with
precise ritual--always formed a regular part of sacrifices made to
the dead.[106\5] Besides these, animals, too, were slain, especially
sheep (less often oxen) of black colour. These must be completely
burnt, as being intended for the sole enjoyment of the dead--a
custom {170} observed at all sacrifices made to the spirits of the
underworld.[107\5]
The whole of this very material cult depended upon the
assumption--which was sometimes distinctly expressed--that the soul
of the dead is capable of receiving, and is in need of, a physical
satisfaction from the gifts made to it.[108\5] It is consequently,
not thought of as deprived of the power of sense-perception. Even in
the grave it can feel what is going on in its neighbourhood.[109\5]
It is not a good thing to attract its attention; it is best to pass
by the graves of the dead in silence.[110\5] The common people
thought of the dead, according to a famous phrase of Plato's, as
"hovering" suspended over their graves, the site of their
cult.[111\5] The pictures on the Attic oilflasks illustrate this
belief, for they represent the souls of the dead flying above the
grave-monument, and the diminutive size of these winged figures is
evidently intended to represent their somewhat contradictory
immaterial materiality, and to express their invisibility for mortal
eyes.[112\5] Sometimes, indeed, the souls become visible, and then,
like the underworld gods and the Heroes, they prefer the shape of a
snake.[113\5] Nor are they absolutely bound to the immediate
neighbourhood of the grave; they sometimes revisit their old
habitations among the living, and not only on those days of the dead
in the month Anthesterion. The Greeks, like other people, were
acquainted with the custom of allowing what fell to the ground to
lie there undisturbed for the spirits that hovered about the house
to carry away if they liked.[114\5] The dead man's spirit, being
thus invisibly present, can overhear if anyone speaks ill of it:
either with the idea of defending the helpless, or, on the contrary,
to avoid incurring the wrath of invisible but potent spirits, a
Solonian law forbade abusive language to be addressed to a dead man.
That is the real meaning of the old warning _de mortuis nil nisi
bene_, as popular belief understood it. The descendants of a dead
man were bound to prosecute anyone who slandered their
ancestor:[115\5] this also is among the religious duties owed by the
living to the soul of the dead.
§ 3
Like all other cults, the cult of the dead had more to do with the
relations of the daimon to the living than with his nature and
essence considered abstractly, and in itself: a dogmatic account of
this nature was neither offered nor required by his worship. Still,
the cult was founded upon a general {171} conception, merely evading
more exact definition, of the nature of the departed spirit. Men
sacrificed to the souls of the dead, as to the gods[116\5] and
Heroes, because they regarded them as invisible Powers,[117\5] a
special class of "Blessed Ones", as the dead were beginning to be
called even in the fifth century. They attempted to propitiate
them,[118\5] or at least to avert their easily awakened
displeasure.[119\5] Their help was also sought in all times of need;
but most especially, like the chthonic gods into whose realm they
have entered, they can prosper the fruits of the earth[120\5] and
lend assistance at the entry of a new soul into life. For this
reason libation is made to the souls of ancestors at a
marriage.[121\5] The Tritopatores also, who were invoked at wedding
celebrations in Attica that the marriage might prove
fruitful,[122\5] were nothing else than the souls of the
ancestors.[123\5] We know them also to have been referred to as
wind-spirits,[124\5] and in this there appears, plainly or
obscurely, an isolated fragment of the most ancient belief of the
people: the departed spirits of the dead become spirits of the air;
the ghosts that travel on the winds are the liberated souls of the
dead.
§ 4
Though it is good and profitable in one's own interest to enlist the
sympathy and retain the goodwill of these invisible spirit powers by
sacrifice, yet their worship is to a much greater degree conditioned
by a sentiment of piety which no longer seeks its own advantage, but
the greater honour and welfare of the dead. Such piety certainly
takes on a curious form, but it is this which gives its special
character to the cult of the souls, and the ideas which lie behind
that cult. The souls of the dead are dependent upon the cult paid to
them by the members of their family who still live on in this world;
their fate is determined by the nature of this cult.[125\5] The
beliefs which nourished the cult of the dead are totally distinct
from the mode of thought prevailing in the Homeric poems according
to which the souls are banished into the distant realm of Hades and
cut off eternally from all attention or care that the living might
pay them. It differs again from the beliefs which the mysteries
implanted in the minds of their worshippers; for in this case it was
not their _merit_--whether religious or moral--which secured to the
disembodied souls their position in the future life. These two
streams of religious belief flowed side by side, but never met. The
nearest analogue to the cult of the souls and its appropriate
beliefs was undoubtedly the cult {172} of Heroes, but even here the
difference is profound. It is no longer a special privilege
miraculously bestowed upon a few favoured individuals; every soul
has a right to the attentive care of its own family, and in each
case its fate is settled, not by the character displayed or deeds
done during its lifetime, but by the relation to itself of those who
survive. As a consequence everybody on the approach of death thinks
of the "future state" of his soul, and that means the cult which he
would like to make sure will be offered to his departed spirit.
Sometimes for this purpose he makes a special foundation, or
bequest, which is provided for in his will.[126\5] Of course, if he
leaves a son behind him, the care of his spirit will be amply
provided for; until that son comes of age, a guardian will offer the
appropriate gifts.[127\5] Even slaves to whom he has given their
freedom will be sure to take part in the permanent and regular cult
of their former master.[128\5] One who has no son to leave behind
him will make haste to take a son from another family into his own
house, who, together with his property will inherit also the duty of
offering a regular and enduring cult to his adopted father, and his
new ancestors, and of caring for the needs of their souls. This is
the real and original meaning of all adoption; and how seriously
such provision for the proper care of the souls of the departed was
taken, can best and most clearly be seen from the testamentary
speeches of Isaeus, in which with a completeness of art that almost
conceals itself expression is given to the genuine and simple
feelings of the homely Athenian bourgeoisie whom no enlightenment
had ever disturbed in the beliefs of their fathers.[129\5]
All cult, all prospect of a full life and future well-being--for so
we may express the naive conception--of the soul on its separation
from the body, depends upon the holding together of the family. To
the family itself the souls of its former ancestors are, in a
limited sense, of course, gods--_its_ gods.[130\5] It can hardly be
doubted that here we have the root of all belief in the future life
of the soul, and we shall be tempted to subscribe to the belief--as
a guess tending in the right direction--of those who see in such
family worship of the dead one of the most primitive roots of all
religious belief--older than the worship of the higher gods of the
state and the community as a whole; older even than the worship of
Heroes, and of the ancestors of large national groups. The family is
older than the state,[131\5] and among all peoples that have not
passed beyond family-organization and formed states, we find this
type of belief about the soul invariably present. Among {173} the
Greeks, who in the course of their history learnt so much that was
new without ever quite discarding the old, this belief lived on in
the shadow of the great gods and their cults, even in the midst of
the tremendous increase in the power and organized influence of the
state. But these larger and wider organizations cramped and hindered
its development. Left to itself, and given more freedom to grow,
such belief might possibly have elevated the souls of the family
ancestors to the position of all-powerful spirits of the house under
whose hearth they had once been laid to rest. The Greeks, however,
never had anything to correspond exactly with the Italian _Lar
familiaris_.[132\5] The nearest equivalent to it would be the Good
Daimon which the Greek household honoured. Careful examination shows
this Daimon to have been originally the soul of an ancestor who has
become the good spirit of his house--but the Greeks themselves had
forgotten this.[133\5]
§ 5
We cannot at this late date trace the reawakening of the cult of
souls in post-Homeric times or the varying stages it may have gone
through in its development. Still, some of the facts are plain.
Indications have already been noticed that point to the view that
the cult of the dead was carried on in the days when the
aristocratic regime still held sway in Greece with greater pomp and
seriousness than in the centuries--the fifth and sixth--beyond which
our knowledge hardly extends. In these earlier times, we are forced
to conclude, there must also have been a livelier belief in the
power and importance of the souls corresponding with the greater
vigour of religious cult. It seems as if at this time ancient usage
and belief broke violently through the suppression and neglect under
which they lay in the times that speak to us in the Homeric poems.
There is no reason to suppose that any one member of the Greek
peoples was specially responsible for the change. At the same time,
different districts in accordance with their varying natural
proclivities and civilization differed in the cult they paid their
dead. In Attica, with the spread of democracy, the ideas at the
bottom of such practice tended more and more in the direction of
mere affectionate piety. In Laconia and Boeotia[134\5] and in other
places where primitive life and customs maintained themselves for a
long time, more serious notions of the nature and reality of the
disembodied spirits remained in force and a more serious cult was
paid to them. Elsewhere, as in Locris and on the island of
Keos,[135\5] the {174} cult of the dead seems to have maintained
itself only in a very much weakened form. When advancing culture
made individuals less dependent on the traditional beliefs of their
own country many temperamental variations and gradations in belief
and conception made their appearance. Homeric ideas on the subject,
universally familiar from poetry, may have entered into the question
and added to the confusion; even where the cult of the dead was
practised with the greatest fervour, ideas radically incompatible
with that cult--as that the souls of the worshipped dead are "in
Hades"[136\5]--are sometimes revealed unintentionally. At quite an
early period we find expressions of the view, which goes beyond
anything said in Homer, that nothing at all survives after death.
Attic orators, for example, are allowed to speak to their audience
in a tone of hesitation and doubt about hopes commonly cherished of
continued consciousness and sensation after death. Such doubts,
however, only affect the theoretic consideration of the soul's
future life; the _cult_ of the souls was still carried on inside the
family. Even an unbeliever, if he were in other respects a true son
of his city and deeply rooted in its ancient customs, might in his
last will and testament provide seriously for the perpetual cult of
his own soul and those of his near relatives--as Epicurus did in his
will, to the astonishment of after ages.[137\5] Thus, even unbelief
still clung to _cult_ as to other old established customs, and in
many an individual the cult still tended to awaken the _beliefs_
which alone could justify it.
III
TRACES OF THE CULT OF SOULS IN THE BLOOD-FEUD AND SATISFACTION FOR
MURDER
§ 1
In the renewal and development of the cult offered to the dead, an
important part was again played by that priestly association which
exercised such a decisive influence on the public worship of
invisible powers in the Greek states--the priesthood of the Delphic
oracle. On the occurrence of disturbing portents in the sky recourse
was had to the god, who gave orders that in addition to the gods and
Heroes "sacrifice should be made to the dead also on the appointed
days, in accordance with custom and tradition, by their
relatives."[138\5] Individuals in doubt as to what the sacred law
{175} required in the observance due to a departed soul applied at
Athens to one of the "Exegetai"--probably one of that college of
Exegetai that had been founded under the influence of Delphi.[139\5]
The god protected the rights of the dead, too; the fact that his
decisions confirmed the sanctity of the cult of the dead must have
contributed a good deal to the consideration and awe in which that
cult was held by the living.[140\5]
The decrees of Delphi were even more influential where they
concerned a cult to be offered not to one who had died in peace, but
to a person who had been robbed of his life through an act of
violence. The treatment of such cases shows with striking
distinctness the change which had come over the beliefs about the
dead since the Homeric period.
In Homer, when a free man has been killed, the State takes no share
whatever in the pursuit and punishment of the murderer. It is the
duty of the nearest relatives or the friends of the murdered
man[141\5] to carry on the blood-feud against the assailant. As a
rule the latter puts himself out of reach of reprisals by flight. He
withdraws to a foreign country which is unconcerned in his action.
We hear nothing of any distinction between premeditated murder and
unintentional or even justifiable homicide;[142\5] and it seems
probable that at that time, when no regular inquiry was made into
the nature of the individual case, the relatives of the murdered man
took no account of the different varieties of killing. If the guilty
man can escape by flight from those whose duty it is to avenge his
deed, they on their part may forgo the full toll of vengeance, which
would have required the death of the murderer, and may be satisfied
with the payment of compensation, after which the doer of the deed
is allowed to remain in his own country undisturbed.[143\5] The
requirements of vengeance are thus in essence fulfilled, but the
retaliatory murder of the murderer can be bought off. This decided
relaxing of the ancient notion of vengeance can only be accounted
for by an equally decided weakening of the belief in the continued
consciousness, power, and rights of the murdered man, upon which the
requirement of vengeance was founded. The soul of the dead is
powerless; its claims can be easily satisfied by the payment of
"weregild" to the living. In such a satisfaction as this, the
departed soul is in reality not concerned at all; it remains a
simple business transaction between living people.[144\5] In the
midst of the general declension of the beliefs about the
dead--amounting almost to complete extinction--which is found
throughout the Homeric poems, this weakening of belief in one
particular point is not very surprising. But {176} in this case, as
in the general study of Homeric beliefs about the dead, it is clear
that the conception of the soul as powerless, shadowlike, and feeble
is not the primitive or original one; it has foisted itself
gradually in the course of years upon a more ancient mode of
conception in which the dead had undiminished sensibility and could
influence the condition of the living. Of this older conception we
have emphatic witness in the duty--not forgotten even in Homeric
Greece--of prosecuting the blood-feud.
In later times the pursuit and punishment of homicide was organized
in accordance with quite different principles. The _State_
recognized its interest in the reprisals made for such a breach of
the peace: we may take it as certain that in Greek cities generally
the state took a share in the regular investigation and punishment
of murder in its courts of justice,[145\5] though here, too, it is
only in the case of Athenian law that we have precise information.
At Athens, in accordance with the ancient code dealing with the
legal prosecution of murder (which never fell into disuse after
Drakon had established it by his penal legislation), the exclusive
right--and the unavoidable duty--of prosecuting the murderer
belonged to the next of kin of the murdered man. (In special cases
only it was extended to include the more distant relatives, and even
the members of the _phratria_ to which he had belonged.) It is clear
that this duty of making an accusation which fell upon the next of
kin, preserves a relic of the ancient duty of the blood-feud which
has been transformed by the requirements of the public welfare. It
is the same narrow circle of relationship, extending to the third
generation, united by a strict religious bond, to which alone
belonged the right to inherit property and the duty of performing
the cult of the dead. This circle of relatives is here again called
upon to "succour" the unfortunate who has been violently done to
death.[146\5] The reason for this duty--a duty evidently derived
from the ancient blood-feud--is easy to understand: it, too, is a
department of the cult of the dead which was binding as a duty upon
exactly that circle of relatives. It was no mere abstract "right",
but a quite definite personal claim, made by the dead man himself,
that the surviving relatives were required to satisfy. At Athens
even in the fourth and fifth centuries the belief still survived in
undiminished vigour that the soul of one violently done to death,
until the wrong done to him was avenged upon the doer of it, would
wander about finding no rest,[147\5] full of rage at the violent
act, and wrathful, too, against the relatives {177} who should have
avenged him, if they did not fulfil their duty. He himself would
become an "avenging spirit"; and the force of his anger might be
felt throughout whole generations.[148\5] Implacable revenge is the
sacred duty of those--his representatives and executors--who are
specially called upon to fulfil the needs of the dead soul. The
state forbids them to take the law into their own hands; but it
commands them to seek redress at the tribunals of justice. It will
take over the duties of judge and executioner itself; but a decided
consideration will be shown to the relatives of the murdered man at
the hearing of the case. In duly conducted criminal procedure the
courts specially appointed for this purpose will decide whether the
deed is to be considered one of wilful murder, unintentional
manslaughter, or justifiable homicide. In making these distinctions
the state has struck a blow at that older code of the blood-feud in
which the right of vengeance belonged entirely to the family of the
murdered man. According to that code, as we cannot but conclude from
Homer, nothing but the fact of the violent death of a relative was
considered, not the character or motive of the deed itself. Now,
however, the murderer is liable to a death penalty which he can
avoid before the verdict is given by going into voluntary and
perpetual exile. He disappears and leaves the country--at the
boundaries of the country the state's authority ceases, and so does
the power of the indignant spirit of the dead, which is bound to its
native soil--like that of all local deities, whose influence is
confined to the place where they are worshipped. If, by such flight
over the frontier, "the doer of the deed withdraws himself from the
person injured by him--i.e. the angry soul of the dead
man"[149\5]--his life is thereby saved, even if he himself is not
justified. This alone is meant by the permission of such voluntary
exile. Involuntary homicide[150\5] is punished by banishment for a
limited period, after the expiration of which the relations of the
dead man are to grant a pardon to the murderer on his return to his
native land.[151\5] If they voted for it unanimously[152\5] they
could even do this before he went into banishment, in which case
this would not take place at all. There can be no doubt that this
pardon had to be granted by them in the name of the dead man as
well, of whose rights they were the representatives; indeed, the man
himself lying mortally wounded could before his death, even in the
case of wilful murder, pardon his assailant and thereby excuse his
relatives the duty of prosecution;[153\5] to such an extent was the
injured soul's wish for vengeance the only point at issue, {178}
even in the legal procedure of a constitutionally governed state,
and not in the least the lawless act of the murderer as such. When
there is no desire for vengeance on the part of the victim requiring
to be satisfied, the murderer goes unpunished. When he suffers
punishment, he suffers it for the satisfaction of the soul of the
murdered man. He is no longer slain as a sacrifice to his victim;
but when the relations of the dead exact vengeance from him by
legally constituted processes, that, too, is a part of the cult
offered to the soul of the dead.
§ 2
It is true that the state directs the blood-feud required of the
relatives of the dead man along constitutional channels that shall
not contravene the laws of the community; but it does not in the
least intend to abolish the fundamental idea of the ancient family
vendetta. It reasserts the original claim to vengeance of the victim
violently done to death--a claim closely bound up with the cult of
the dead--by forbidding the old custom, common in Homeric times, of
buying off the blood-guiltiness of the murderer by a compensatory
payment made to the relatives of the dead man.[154\5] It does not
destroy the religious character of the whole transaction; it uses
its own processes to secure the fulfilment of the requirements of
religion. That is why the head of all criminal jurisdiction is the
King Archon, the constitutional Administrator of all the _religious_
functions of the ancient royal government. The religious basis of
the oldest Athenian criminal jurisdiction is particularly evident.
It has its seat on the Areiopagos, the hill of the Curse-Goddesses,
over the sacred chasm in which they themselves, the "Venerable
Ones", have their dwelling. The judicial office is closely bound up
with the service of the goddesses.[155\5] At the commencement of the
proceedings both parties take an oath in the name of the
Erinyes.[156\5] Each of the three days at the end of the month, upon
which legal proceedings in these courts took place,[157\5] was
sacred to one of the three goddesses.[158\5] To them sacrifice was
made by those who were acquitted in those courts;[159\5] for it is
the goddesses who have given them absolution just as it is the
goddesses who demand the punishment of the guilty. They still do it,
as once they had done in the typical case of Orestes, in which they
themselves had been the accusers.[160\5] In this Athenian worship
the Erinyes had not vet entirely lost their true and original
character. They had not become the mere guardians of law in general,
as which they were sometimes {179} represented by poets and
philosophers who thus extended and weakened immeasurably their once
much narrower significance. They are formidable daimones, dwelling
in the depths of the earth from which they are conjured up by the
curses and maledictions of those who have no earthly avenger left.
Hence they are more particularly the avengers of murder committed
within the family itself; they punish the man who has slain the very
person whom he would have been called upon to avenge, if that person
had fallen at the hand of another murderer than himself. When the
son has slain his father or mother, who shall then carry out the
blood-feud incumbent upon the nearest relation of the dead? This
nearest relation is the murderer himself. It is the Erinys of the
father or the mother who sees to it that the dead shall still
receive due satisfaction. She breaks out from the kingdom of the
dead to seize the murderer. She is ever at his heels in pursuit,
leaving him no rest night or day. Vampire-like she sucks his
blood:[161\5] he is her destined victim.[162\5] Even in the judicial
procedure of the fully organized state it is the Erinyes who demand
revenge for murder at the courts of law. Their absolute power
extends in widening circle to all murder, even when it is committed
outside the limits of the family; though it was only the imagination
of the poetically or philosophically minded that ever transformed
them completely to champions of justice of all kinds, in heaven and
upon earth. In the cult and beliefs proper to individual cities they
remained the auxiliaries attached to the souls of murdered men.
These gruesome daimones had their origin in the worship of the dead,
and they lived on in connexion with the undying worship of which
they were a part. Indeed, if we examine closely the sources of
information at our disposal, we can see even through their
inadequacy and obscurity that the Erinys was nothing else but the
soul itself of the murdered man, indignant at its fate and seizing
its revenge for itself--till later ages substituted for this the
conception of the ghost from hell taking over to itself the rage of
the dead man's soul.[163\5]
§ 3
Thus, the whole procedure at murder trials was directed rather to
the satisfaction of invisible powers--the injured souls of the dead
and the daimones that represent them--than of the state and its
living members. In essence it was a religious act. As a result all
was not at an end when the human verdict on the case had been given.
On his return from exile the man guilty of involuntary homicide,
besides receiving the {180} pardon of the relatives of the dead man,
had still a double duty to perform; he had to be purified and to
offer propitiatory sacrifice.[164\5] Purification from the blood of
the slain was necessary even in the case of the unpunished agent of
what the state regarded as justifiable homicide;[165\5] it restored
the man, hitherto regarded as "unclean", to participation in the
religious gatherings of state and family which could not have been
approached by an unpurified person without suffering defilement. The
Homeric poems know nothing of any such religious purification of
those who have incurred the stain of blood.[166\5] Analogous
occurrences in the religious usage of allied peoples make it,
however, almost impossible to doubt that the notion of religious
uncleanness belonging to a man who has had any dealings with uncanny
powers was of primeval antiquity among the Greeks, too. It can only
have been suppressed in the Homeric view of the matter; just as that
view also suppressed the usages of expiation. These were intended to
propitiate the indignant soul of the dead and the gods who protected
it, by means of solemn sacrifice; but in the Homeric picture of the
world they never appear, for the ideas on which they were based had
themselves been swept away.
The details of purification and expiation--the former serving the
interests of the state and its religious needs, the latter intended
as a final appeasement of the injured powers of the unseen
world--were closely united in practice and are often confused in the
accounts which have come down to us. A hard and fast distinction
between them cannot be drawn. So much at all events is clear; the
expiatory rites indispensable when murder had been committed had the
closest possible similarity with the ritual of sacrifice to the gods
of the underworld.[167\5] And, in fact, the deities invoked at such
rites of expiation--Zeus Meilichios, Zeus Apotropaios, and the
rest--belong to the underworld circle of gods.[168\5] To them,
instead of the murderer himself, a victim was offered to appease the
anger felt by them as the patrons of the departed soul. The Erinyes,
too, have sacrifice made to them at expiations[169\5]--everything in
these matters is connected with the kingdom of the dead and its
inhabitants.
But it was the Delphic Oracle that saw to the details of
purification and expiation after murder. The necessity of such
rights was impressed on men by the example set in the story of
Apollo's own flight and purification after the slaying of the
earth-spirit at Pytho. These events were symbolically enacted over
again regularly every eight years.[170\5] At Delphi, {181} too,
according to Aeschylus, Apollo himself purified Orestes the
matricide from the pollution of his crime.[171\5] At Athens one of
the oldest propitiatory sites was called after one of Apollo's
titles, the Delphinion.[172\5] The Oracle must often have directed
its inquirers to placate not merely the Heroes, but also the angry
souls of murdered (and not heroized) men by means of expiatory
sacrifices: as it bade the murderers of Archilochos and the Spartan
king Pausanias.[173\5] Propitiatory sacrifice in this sense does not
belong to the Apolline cult as an exclusive possession; it belongs,
also, to other, mostly lower-world, deities; but it was the Oracle
of Apollo that set the seal on its sanctity. At Athens the Exegetai
founded under the influence of the Delphic Oracle were the official
administrators of this expiatory ritual.[174\5] Plato was certainly
following the customs of Greek cities when in the "Laws" he declares
that his state shall take its regulations for purification and
propitiation from Delphi.[175\5]
§ 4
The Oracle, then, of the omniscient God sanctified and recommended
these rites of expiation; the state regulated its judicial procedure
in murder cases on the lines of the old family blood-feud. It was
natural, then, that the ideas on which these religious and political
institutions were based--the conviction of a continued existence
enjoyed by the murdered man's soul and of his consciousness and
knowledge of what occurred among the living who survived, his anger
and his powers--that these ideas should attain to something like the
position of an article of faith. The confidence with which these
beliefs were held still manifests itself to us in the speeches at
murder trials in which Antiphon, suiting his language to his real or
imagined public, tries to arouse terror and awe, as at the presence
of indubitable realities, by calling upon the angry soul of the dead
man and the spirits that avenge the dead.[176\5] About the souls of
murdered men indeed, regarded as more than other spirits unable to
find rest, a strange and ghostly mythology grew up, of which we
shall have some specimens later on. How primitive such beliefs could
be we may gather with startling clearness from occasional records of
purely savage customs[177\5] which are derived from them--customs
which cannot possibly have been freshly invented in the Greece of
this enlightened period, and must be either primitive Greek savagery
come to light again, or else barbarisms only too easily welcomed
from less civilized neighbours. In any case they imply the most
materialistic view of the survival {182} of the murdered man, and of
the revenge that might be taken by his soul.
It is evident that what men believed about the souls of murdered men
must have had an important influence upon the general belief in a
future life as it took shape in the mind of the people. But the
extent of such an influence can be more exactly measured in the
story which Xenophon tells about the dying Kyros; as the strongest
grounds for the hope that an after-life will be the portion of _all_
souls after their separation from the body, the dying king points to
the unquestioned facts which, as all admit, prove a special
after-life for the souls "of those who have suffered injustice". In
addition to this he lays stress on the argument that the worship of
the dead would not have been preserved intact to his own time if
their souls had been entirely deprived of all active power.[178\5]
Thus we see how the _cult_ of the souls of the dead was the chief
source of the _belief_ in a continued life after death.
NOTES TO CHAPTER V
I
[1\5: This dual efficacy of the ~chtho/nioi~ is explained naturally
enough by their nature as underground spirits. There is no reason
for supposing that their influence on the fertility of the fields
was a later addition (as Preller does, _Dem. u. Perseph._ 188 ff.,
followed by many). Still less have we any grounds for regarding the
protection of souls and the care for the fertility of crops as a
sort of allegorizing parallel (soul = grain of seed) as has been
usual since the time of K. O. Müller.]
[2\5: ~Zeu\s katachtho/nios~, ~I~ 457. ~theou= chthoni/ou . . .
iphthi/mou Aï/deô~, Hes. _Th._ 767 f. Evidently there is no
distinction here between ~katachtho/nios~ and ~chtho/nios~, as
Preller, _Dem. u. Pers._ 187, wishes to make out.]
[3\5: Hes. _Op._ 465, ~eu/chesthai de\ Dii\ chthoni/ô| Dêmê/teri/
th' hagnê=| ktl.~ It is impossible even by far-fetched methods of
interpretation (such as Lehrs makes use of, _Popul. Aufs._^2 298 f.)
to make this ~Zeu\s chtho/nios~ into anything else than a Zeus of
the underworld. The god of the lower world, totally distinct from
the Olympian Zeus (~Zeu\s _a/llos_~, Aesch., _Supp._ 231), is here a
dispenser of blessings to the farmer. In the sacrificial regulation
from Mykonos (_SIG._ 615) it is prescribed to offer: ~hupe\r karpô=n
(kampô=n~ on the stone) ~Dii\ Chtho/ni/ô| Gê=| Chthoni/ê| DERTA
me/lana etê/sia? xe/nô| ou the/mis~ (where ~derta\~ = _hostias pelle
spoliatas_, see Prott, _Leg. Sacr._ i, p. 17; though the addition of
the colour of the no longer visible skin seems remarkable)--~hupe\r
karpô=n~ here belongs to ~Dii/~, etc., as the division-mark on the
stone before ~hupe\r~ shows: see _BCH._ 1888, p. 460 f. Evidence of
this sort makes it clear how unjustifiable it would be to rule out
all fructifying influence from the "idea of the chthonic" and to
regard the chthonic deities as simply the power of death and
destruction in the world of nature and men, as is done by H. D.
Müller (who is met by serious difficulty in this passage from the
_Op._: _Mythol. d. griech. St._ ii, 40). It is, indeed, scarcely
necessary to seek for an abstractly formulated "idea of the
chthonic"; but if this fructifying and life-giving force does belong
to the nature of the ~chtho/nioi~ as such, what becomes of H. D.
Müller's ingeniously thought-out and violently defended view
according to which the chthonic only constitutes one side of the
nature of certain deities who have in addition a different,
Olympian, side in which they are positively creative and
beneficent?]
[4\5: ~Zeu\s chtho/nios~ at Corinth, Paus. 2, 2, 8; at Olympia, 5,
14, 8.]
[5\5: Thus Persephone is called ~Hagnê/, De/spoina~, etc. (Lehrs,
_Pop. Aufs._^2 288), also ~Melitô/dês, Meli/boia~; ~Melindi/a~,
consort of Hades, Malalas, p. 62, 10, Di. [8th ed., Bonn.] (?
~Meli/noia~, as Hekate is ~Meilino/ê~, Orph., _H._ 71). ~Ari/stê
chthoni/a~, _P. Mag. Par._ 1450.--Hekate is ~Kalli/stê, Eukoli/nê
(kat' anti/phrasin hê mê\ ou=sa eu=kolos~, _EM._), the Erinyes
~Semnai/, Eumeni/des~; their mother ~Euônu/mê (= Gê=~): Ister ap.
Sch. Soph., _OC._ 42 (from a similar source, Sch. Aeschin. i, 188),
etc. Cf. Bücheler, _Rh. Mus._ 33, 16-17.]
[6\5: ~Polude/ktês, Polude/gmôn, Agêsi/laos~ (_Epigr. Gr._ 195; see
Bentley ad Callim., _Lav. Pall._ 130; Preller, _Dem. u. Pers._ 192;
Welcker, _Götterl._ ii, 482), ~Euklê=s~ (Bücheler, _Rh. Mus._ 36,
332 f.).--~Eu/kolos~ (corresponding to the ~Eukoli/nê~ above as a
title of Hades must be rejected if Köhler's correction of _CIA._ ii,
3, 1529, is right: ~Hêdu/los--Euko/lou~.] {184}
[7\5: Cult of ~Zeu\s Eubouleu/s~ at Amorgos, Paros (insc. cit. by
Foucart, _BCH._ vii, 402), of ~Zeu\s Bouleu/s~ at Mykonos, _SIG._
615 (~Zeu\s Boulai=os~, _Ins. Perg._ i, 246, l. 49, does not belong
here); of ~**Eu/boulos~ (original title of Hades: Orph., _H._ xviii,
12) in Eleusis (side by side ~ho theo/s, hê thea/~): _SIG._ 20, 39;
_CIA._ ii, 1620 c.d. (The Athenian legend makes Eubouleus into a
mortal herdsman: Clem. Al., _Protr._ ii, pp. 14-15 P.; Schol. Luc.,
_De Merc._, 2, p. 275, 27 Rabe.) ~Eubouleu/s~ simply = Hades: Nic.,
_Al._ 14; epitaph from Syros, _Epigr. Gr._ 272, 9, and frequently.
So, too, the ~Zeu\s Eubouleu/s~ (Hesych. s. ~Eub.~) worshipped in
Kyrene must have been a ~Zeu\s chtho/nios~. Eubouleus is also a
title of Dionysos as Zagreus (Iakchos), i.e. the Dionysos of the
underworld.--Incidentally, what is the origin of this designation of
the god of the underworld as "good counsellor" (_boni consilii
praestitem_ as Macr. 1, 8, 17, translates ~Euboulê=a~)? It can
hardly have been because he was specially able to take counsel on
his own behalf (this is the sense in which D.S. 5, 72, 2, takes the
title; but rather because he was an _oracle_ god, and as such
dispensed good counsel to inquirers. Thus the oracle-god Nereus is
called ~eu/boulos~ in Pi., _P._ iii, 92; so also _I._ vii, 32:
~eu/boulos The/mis~.]
[8\5: Lasos _fr._ 1 (_PLG._ iii, 376), etc.--Consecration to
~Klu/menos~ from Athens: _CIG._ 409.--Hesych. ~Periklu/menos; ho
Plou/tôn~ (it is no accident that gave the name Periklymenos to the
magically gifted son of Neleus). Klymenos = Hades, _Epigr. Gr._ 522
a 2.]
[9\5: The name ~Trephô/nios~, ~Trophô/nios~ itself also points to
the fact that assistance to the fertility of the earth was expected
of this ~Zeu\s chtho/nios~. In the later cult of Trophonios not a
trace of such a belief survives.]
[10\5: ~en oudemia=| po/lei Ha/idou bômo/s estin. Aischu/los
phêsi/n; mo/nos theô=n ga\r Tha/natos ou dô/rôn era=| ktl.~ (_fr._
161 Sidg.): Schol., AB. on ~A~ 158.]
[11\5: In Elis ~hiero\s tou= Ha/idou peri/bolo/s te kai\ nao/s~,
Paus. 6, 25, 2. Cult of Demeter and Kore and of Hades in the very
fertile Triphylia, Str. 344.]
[12\5: Kaukones from Pylos, the Nelidai at their head, reach Attica:
connexion with the cult of the ~chtho/nioi~ in Phlya in Eleusis: see
K. O. Müller, _Kl. S._ ii, 258. Such accounts may have an historical
foundation. The elaborate accounts by H. D. Müller, _Mythol. Gr._ 1,
c. 6, and O. Crusius, _Ersch-Gruber_ "Kaukones"--operate with too
many uncertain factors for the results to have any certainty.]
[13\5: ~Ha/idês . . . toi=s entha/de tosau=ta agatha\ ani/êsin~:
Pl., _Crat._ 403 E. ~ho Ha/idês ou mo/non ta\s psucha\s sune/chei,
alla\ kai\ toi=s karpoi=s ai/tio/s estin anapnoê=s kai\ anado/seôs
kai\ auxê/seôs~: Schol. B.L., ~O~ 188.]
[14\5: ~hoi polloi\ phobou/menoi to\ o/noma Plou/tôna kalou=sin
auto/n (to\n Ha/idên)~, Pl., _Crat._ 403 A.]
[15\5: At the Genesia (Nekysia sacrifice for Ge and the dead,
Hesych. ~Gene/sia.--choai\ Gê=| te kai\ phthitoi=s~, A. _Pers._ 220:
calling to Hermes, Ge, and Aïdoneus in "spirit-raising", _Pers._ 628
ff., 640 ff. cf. _Ch._ 124 ff.--appeal to Hermes and ~Gê=
ka/tochos~ on _defixiones_: _CIG._ 538-9.]
[16\5: ~Gai=os~ in Olympia, Paus. 5, 14, 10; cf. E. Curtius, _Altäre
v. Olymp._, p. 15. At Kos it would seem to have been stated that Ge
was worshipped ~mo/nê theô=n~, Ant. Lib. 15 (acc. to Boios). Side by
side with ~Zeu\s Chtho/nios~ was worshipped ~Gê= chthoni/ê~ at
Mykonos, _SIG._ 615, 26.]
[17\5: ~po/tnia Gê= Zagreu= te, theô=n panupe/rtate pa/ntôn~,
_Alkmaionis fr._ 3 (Kink.).]
[18\5: Cult of Klymenos and Demeter ~Chthoni/a~ (her festival
~Chtho/neia~: see also Ael. _HA._ xi, 4) in Hermione, Paus. 2, 35, 4
ff. Pausanias also thinks (3, 14, 5) that the cult of Dem.
~Chthoni/a~ was brought to Sparta {185} from Hermione, which may be
right. Kore as ~Meli/boia~ is also mentioned in this connexion by
Lasos of Herm. _fr._ 1, _PLG._ iii, 376. Dedicatory inscriptions
(_CIG._ 1194-1200) also mention, side by side with Demeter Chthonia,
Klymenos, and Kore as well. Once (_BCH._ 1889, p. 198, n. 24) only
~Da/matri, Klume/nô|~. Demeter was clearly the chief goddess: cf.
_CIG._ 1193.--From the community of the worship of Damater Chthonia
in both Hermione and Asine it may be justifiable to conclude that
this cult belonged originally to the Dryopians who combined with the
Dorians in Hermione and were driven by them out of Argolic Asine.
There is no warrant whatever for the fanciful derivation of the
Demeter-cult of these neighbourhoods from "Pelasgians" submerged by
Dryopian invaders.]
[19\5: There was a common worship of: Zeus Eubouleus, Demeter, and
Kore at Amorgos; Zeus Eub., Demeter Thesmophoros, Kore, Here, Babo
at Paros; Plouton, Demeter, Kore, Epimachos, Hermes in Knidos;
Plouton and Kore in Karia. See the citations given by Foucart,
_BCH._ vii, 402 (with whose own pronouncements I cannot, however,
agree at all). In Delos, Demeter, Kore, Zeus Eubouleus: _BCH._ 24,
505 n. 4. So, too, in Corinth Plouton, Demeter, and Kore: Paus. 2,
18, 3; Hades Demeter and Kore in Triphylia, Str. 344. Observe also
the group of divinities at Lebadeia in the cult of Trophonios: Paus.
9, 39.--At Eleusis side by side with Demeter and Kore Plouton also
was worshipped: _CIA._ ii, 834 b. But there existed even there other
groups of ~chtho/nioi~ worshipped in conjunction, ~tô\ theô/~ once
more joined with Triptolemos, and a second triad: ~ho theo/s, hê
thea/~, and Eubouleus, _CIA. Suppl._ i, 27b, p. 59, ff. ii, 1620 bc;
iii, 1108-9. This second triad, which is not mentioned on the inscr.
_CIA._ i, 5 (from the beginning of the fifth century), may have only
been subsequently added to the Eleusinian official cult (see Ziehen,
_Leg. Sacr., Dissert._ pp. 9-10). It is a waste of time to try and
identify the vague appellations ~theo/s~ and ~thea/~ with the names
of definite chthonic deities (as e.g. Kern attempts, _Ath. Mitth._
1891, pp. 5-6). Acc. to Löschcke, _D. Enneakrunosepis. bei Paus._,
pp. 15-16, these Eleusinian divinities were imported into Athens,
established in the chasm of the Eumenides, and instead of ~ho
theo/s, hê thea/~ and Eubouleus, were called Hermes, Ge, and
Plouton. But the correlation of these divinities worshipped there in
conjunction with the ~Semnai/~ (acc. to Paus. 1, 28, 6) with the
Eleusinian group depends entirely upon the identification of the
~Semnai/~ with Demeter and Kore. This, however, is based on nothing
more than a guess of K. O. Müller's (_Aesch. Eum._, p. 176 [160 f.
E.T.]), which would still be very much in the air even if the
theories about "Demeter Erinys" with which it is connected did not
rest on such insecure foundations. (To identify the
Eleusinian-Athenian Eubouleus with Plouton is impossible, if only
because of the fact that in the chthonic cult of those places
~Eubouleu/s~, originally the name of an underworld god, has
developed into the name of a Hero who now has a place _alongside_
the chthonic deities.)--With the cautious appelations ~ho theo/s, hê
thea/~ we may compare the appeal on a _defixio_ from Athens, _CIG._
1034: ~dai/moni chthoni/ô| kai\ tê=| chthoni/a| kai\ toi=s
chthoni/ois pa=si ktl.~]
[20\5: Cf. Mannhardt, _Mythol. Forsch._ 1884, p. 225 ff.]
[21\5: It cannot, however, be denied that already in Homer
Persephone is the daughter of Demeter and Zeus. Adducing ~X~ 326 and
~l~ 217 K. O. Müller (_Kl. Sch._ ii, 91) has disposed conclusively
of Preller's doubts: in spite of which H. D. Müller in his
reconstruction of the Demeter-myth clings firmly to the view that
the goddess carried {186} away by Hades was only afterwards made the
daughter of Demeter.--The Homeric poems seem to know of the rape of
Persephone by Aïdoneus but not the story of her periodical return to
the upper world--which is the most important feature in the
Eleusinian creed. What Lehrs says on this much-discussed subject is
completely convincing (_Pop. Aufs._^2, p. 277 f.).]
[22\5: The cult of Demeter is old in Phthiotis too (--~Pu/rason,
Dê/mêtros te/menos~, ~B~ 695 f.--~e/chousai Antrô=na petrê/enta~,
_h. Cer._ 490). Also in Paros and Crete. That it is possible to
trace the extension of the worship of Demeter in detail (as many
have tried to do, is one of the current illusions on this subject
that I cannot share.]
[23\5: _Aornon_ and ~nekuomantei=on~ (~psuchopompei=on~ Phot.
~Theoi\ Molottikoi/~ cf. Append. prov. iii, 18 L.-S.; Eust. ~k~ 514,
p. 1667) at Ephyre on the River Acheron in Thesprotia: well known
from Hdt.'s story of Periander (v, 92). Here the place of Orpheus'
descent to the lower world was localised, Paus. 9, 30, 6; cf. also
Hyg. 88, p. 84, 19-20 Schm.--Entrance to Hades at Tainaron, through
which Herakles dragged up Kerberos (Schol. D.P. 791, etc.), with
~psuchomantei=on~: cf. Plu., _Ser. Num. Vind._ 17, p. 560 E (cf.
Stat., _Th._ ii, 32 ff., 48 f., etc.).--Similar entrance to Hades at
Hermione, see below; ~kataba/sion ha/|dou~ at Aigialos = Sikyon:
Call. _fr._ 110.--At Phigaleia in Arcadia a ~psuchomantei=on~ at
which King Pausanias inquired, Paus. 3, 17, 9.--More famous is the
~psuchomantei=on~ at Herakleia Pont.: see _Rh. Mus._ 36, 556 (this
also was a place where Kerberos appeared above, Mela i, 103). Hither
Pausanias came for guidance, acc. to Plu., _Ser. Num._ 10, p. 555 C;
_Cimon_ 6.--The ~Ploutô/nion~ and ~psuchomantei=on~ at Cumae in
Italy had a long-standing reputation (mentioned as early as Soph.,
_fr._ 682 [748 P.]): cf. _Rh. Mus._ 36, 555 (an Italian Greek
applies to ~ti psuchomantei=on~, Plu., _Cons. Apoll._ 14, p. 109
C).--Next the Asiatic ~Ploutô/nia~ and ~Charô/neia~: at Acharaka in
Karia, Str. 649-50; at Magnesia on the Maiander, ~a/ornon spê/laion
hiero/n, Charô/nion lego/menon~, Str. 636; at Myous, Str. 579. This
is what ~to\ en La/tmô| o/rugma~ must have been, mentioned among
other ~Charô/nia~ by Antig. Caryst. 123; the ~Ki/mbros kalou/menos
ho peri\ Phrugi/an bo/thunos~ also mentioned there, may very well
have been the place in Phrygia spoken of by Alkman ap. Str. 580:
~bo/thunos Kerbê/sios e/chôn olethri/ous apophora/s~ (suggested by
Keller on Antig). Perhaps the latter place--named after the
Korybantes (?) see Bergk on Alcm. _fr._ 82--is the same as the cave
at Hierapolis.--Better known than any was the oracular cavern at
Hierapolis in Phrygia into which only the Galli of the Great Mother,
the _Matris Magnae sacerdos_, can go without being overcome by the
vapours issuing from it: Str. 629-30, Plin. ii, 208. There existed
under a temple of Apollo a direct ~kataba/sion ha/|dou~, accessible
at least to the faithful ~tetelesme/noi~: see the very remarkable
account of Damasc., _V. Isid._ ap. Phot., p. 344b, 35-345a, 27 Bk.
(Cult of Echidna in Hierapolis, see Gutschmid, _Rh. Mus._ 19, 398
ff.; this is also a chthonic cult: ~ne/rteros E/chidna~, Eur. _Ph._
1023; Echidna among the monsters of Hades: Ar., _Ra._ 473).--These
are the mortifera in Asia Plutonia, quae vidimus, Cic., _Div._ i, 79
(cf. Gal. iii, 540; xvii, 1, 10).--Entrances to Hades were regularly
to be found at those places where the cave was shown by which
Aidoneus made his exit or his entrance in carrying off Kore. Thus at
Eleusis, ~to/thi per pu/lai eis' Aï/dao~, Orph., _H._ 18, 15, Paus.
1, 38, 5; at Kolonos, Sch. S., _OC._ 1590-3; at Lerna, Paus. 2, 36,
7; at Pheneos (a ~cha/sma en Kullê/nê|~: Conon 15), and probably in
Crete too (cf. Bacch. _fr._ 53 Jebb, ap. Sch. Hes., _Th._ 914); at
Enna in Sicily a ~cha/sma **kata/geion~: D.S. 5, 3, 3; Cic., _Verr._
iv, 107; {187} at Syracuse at the spring Kyane, D.S. 5, 4, 2; at
Kyzikos, Prop. 3 (4), 22, 4.]
[24\5: The ~Semnai/~ live there in a ~cha/sma chthono/s~, Eur.,
_El._ 1266 f., on the eastern slope of the hill.]
[25\5: Paus. 2, 35, 10. The precinct of the temple was an Asylon,
Phot. ~Hermi/onê~; _AB._ 256, 15; Znb. ii, 25 (Ar.
~Babul.~).--Kerberos is brought up from below at Hermione: Eur.,
_HF._ 615. An Acheron, and even an ~Acherousia\s li/mnê~, was to be
found in Thesprotia, Triphylia, Herakleia on the Pontus, Cumae, and
Cosentia in Bruttium--all sites of ancient cults of Hades and
reputed as in close proximity to the underworld.]
[26\5: Strabo viii, 373--the same is reported by Call. _fr._ 110 of
the inhabitants of ~Aigialo/s~ (prob. = Sikyon, where there was a
cult of Demeter, Paus. 2, 11, 2-3; cf. 2, 5, 8. Hesych. ~_epôpi/s_;
Dêmê/têr para\ Sikuôni/ois~), where, at any rate, there was a
~kataba/sion ha/|dou~.--The name "Hermione" seems almost to have
acquired a generic sense. In the Orphic _Argonautica_ a city
Hermioneia is said to be situated in the fabulous north-west of
Europe in the neighbourhood of the gold-bearing river Acheron, where
(as always on the margin of the ~oikoume/nê~) there dwell ~ge/nê
dikaiota/tôn anthrô/pôn, hoi=sin apophthime/nois a/nesis nau/loio
te/tuktai~, etc. (1135-47). Thus Hermione in this case lies
immediately in the country of souls and blessedness, which the
ancient inhabitants of the Peloponnesian city rather supposed to be
in the neighbourhood of their own country.--Hesych. strangely:
~_Hermio/nê_; kai\ hê Dêmê/têr kai\ hê ko/rê en Surakou/sais~. Was
there a place called Hermione there too? See Lob., _Paralip._ 299.]
II
[27\5: If a father makes money by his son's unchastity, the son is
released from the duty of providing food or shelter for his father
while the latter is alive--~apothano/nta d' auto\n thapte/tô kai\
ta=lla poiei/tô ta\ nomizo/mena~: Solonian law ap. Aeschin.,
_Tim._ 13.]
[28\5: Dem. 43, 57-8.]
[29\5: Sch. Soph., _Ant._ 255. Philo ap. Euseb., _PE._ viii, 358 D;
359 A. See Bernays, _Berichte Ber. Ak._ 1876, p. 604, 606 f.]
[30\5: ~Ps~ 71 ff.]
[31\5: Isoc. 14, 55.]
[32\5: The ~ba/rathron~ at Athens, the ~Kaia/das~ at Sparta. But the
bodies were often given up to the relatives to bury, and in any case
the refusal of burial can only have been temporary--it is incredible
that they could have wished to leave the bodies to putrify in the
open air.]
[33\5: Athenian law, Xen., _HG._ 1, 7, 22; common Greek institution
at least as against temple-robbers, D.S. 16, 25. Examples of the
enforcement of this law in the fifth and fourth centuries discussed
by W. Vischer, _Rh. Mus._ 20, 446 ff.--Suicides in some places were
refused burial honours (in Thebes and Cyprus); even in Athens it was
customary to cut off the hand of the suicide and bury it separately
(Aeschin., _Ctes._ 244). This is the punishment of ~auto/cheires~.
Self-starvation was considered less shocking and that is perhaps why
it occurs so frequently as a method of suicide. Cf. Thalheim, _Gr.
Rechtsalt._ p. 44 f. Perhaps also the religious objection of the
Pythagoreans (and Platonists) to taking this means of escape from an
existence that has become unbearable rests upon popular feeling and
belief--it was not shared at all by the enlightened of later ages.
(There is, however, nothing in ancient beliefs that points to the
idea that the body of the suicide should be allowed only burial, not
burning. Acc. {188} to the ~Ilia\s mikra/~ Aias after taking his own
life was buried, not burnt, ~dia\ tê\n orgê\n tou= basile/ôs~--_fr._
3: [Apollod.] _Epit._ v, 7. There is no ground for supposing that
the fable of Philostr., _H._ 721, p. 188 K., acc. to which Kalchas
declared the burning of the bodies of suicides to be not ~ho/sion~,
is taken out of an ancient poem; as Welcker does _Kl. Schr._
ii, 291.)]
[34\5: Cf. the words of Teles ~peri\ phugê=s~ ap. Stob., _Fl._ 40, 8
(iii, p. 738, 17 ff. Hens.), and the answer of Krates Cyn. to
Demetrius of Phaleron ap. Plu., _Adul._ 28, p. 69 CD. It is worth
remarking that in the fourth and even third centuries it was still
necessary to reply to the idea ~ho/môs de\ to\ epi\ xe/nês taphê=nai
o/neidos~. When later on the cosmopolitanism preached by the Cynics
(and after their model by Teles) becomes really common property it
seems no longer necessary to introduce special grounds of
consolation for having to be buried in foreign soil into pamphlets
~peri\ phugê=s~. At least this is not done by the Stoic Musonius or
the Platonizing Plutarch. Cf. also Philodem. _Mort._, p. 33-4 Mekl.]
[35\5: This is the reason why so often the bones or ashes of those
who die abroad are collected and brought home for burial by their
relations. Exx. ap. Westermann on Dem., _Eubul._ 70; cf. also Plu.,
_Phoc._ 37.]
[36\5: Ar., _Ec._ 1030. Origanon (wild marjoram, white thyme
possesses apotropaic power: it keeps away evil spirits. The ancients
knew of the virtue possessed by these plants of scaring snakes,
ants, and other vermin--Aristot., _HA._ 4, 8, 534b, 22; Plin. 10,
195; Thphr., _CP._ 6, 5, 4; Diosc., _MM._ iii, 29 = i, p. 375 Spr.;
_Gp._ 12, 19, 9: cf. Niclas ad _Gp._ 13, 10, 5. Modern superstition
employs them against goblins and water sprites, witches and ghosts,
Grimm, p. 1214; p. 1820, n. 980. If marjoram and gentian are laid by
women in child-bed ghosts and devils can do them no harm "for they
shun such herbs": J. Ch. Männlingen ap. Alwin Schultz, _Alltagsleben
e. d. Frau im 18 Jahrh._, p. 195 f. The two purposes are closely
connected. The pungent odour of herbs and burning stuff keeps away
snakes as do nocentes spiritus monstra noxia: Pall. 1, 35 = 11, 3,
p. 49 Sohn. The same thing applies to monstra noxia if they try to
approach the corpse in the shape of snakes or insects (just as the
ghost in Apul., _M._ ii, 25, approaches the corpse in the shape of a
weasel; where we also read that the versipelles which threaten the
corpse et aves et rursum canes et mures immo vero etiam muscas
induunt: ii, 22). So, too, the marjoram has a kathartic effect on
the corpse, i.e. it is a means of keeping off underworld spirits.]
[37\5: Ar., _Ec._ 1031. The corpse lay on vine branches in several
of the recently discovered Dipylon graves at Athens: _Athen. Mitt._
1893, pp 165, 184. Superstitious reasons (as in the cases where
olive leaves are used as a bed: see below) are to be suspected in
this case, too, but can hardly be proved: cf. **Fredrich,
_Sarkophagstud._, Nach. Gött. Ges. Wiss. Ph. Cl. 1895, pp. 18, 69;
Anrich, _Gr. Mysterienw._ 102, 3. Apart from this the ~a/mpelos~
does not seem to have lustral effect.]
[38\5: ~lê/kuthoi, tou/strakon~: Ar., _Ec._ 1032 f.; ~che/rnips epi\
phthitô=n pu/lais~: Eur., _Al._ 98 ff. The bowl was called
~arda/nion~: Sch. Ar., _Ec._ 1033; Poll. viii, 65 (cf. Phot. 346, 1
~orda/nion~). It contained water fetched from _another_ house:
Hesych, ~o/strakon~--obviously because the water in the house where
the corpse lay was regarded as polluted. (Thus when the fire, for
example, is "polluted", fresh fire is brought in from outside: Plu.,
_Q. Gr._ 24, p. 297 A; _Arist._ 20.) Those who left the house
purified themselves with it: Hesych. ~arda/nia~, cf. {189}
~pêgai=on, pêgai=on hu/dôr~. A laurel branch (as holy-water
sprinkler, as commonly in lustrations) was placed in it: Sch. Eur.,
_Al._ 98.]
[39\5: Serv., _A._ iii, 680: apud Atticos funestae domus huius
(cupressi) frondo velantur. The object may have been to warn the
superstitious against approaching the "unclean" house: it is a
characteristic of the ~deisidai/môn, ou/te epibê=nai mnê/mati, ou/te
epi\ nekro\n ou/t' epi\ lechô\ elthei=n ethelê=sai~, Thphr., _Ch._
16. This at least was the reason given at Rome for a similar custom:
Serv., _A._ 3, 64; 4, 507.]
[40\5: Crowning of the dead with garlands, afterwards a general
custom, is first mentioned in the ~Alkmaiôni/s~ (epical, but hard to
date precisely: _fr._ ii, p. 76 Kink.). On the "Archemoros" vase a
woman is about to place a myrtle-wreath on the head of Archemoros.
The myrtle is sacred to the ~chtho/nioi~, and hence the myrtle-crown
belongs to the Mystai of Demeter as well as to the dead: see
Apollod. ap. Sch. Ar., _Ran._ 330; Ister ap. Sch. Soph., _OC._ 681.
Grave-monuments too were crowned and planted especially with
myrtles; Eur., _El._ 324, 512; cf. Thphr., _HP._ 5, 8, 3; Vg., _A._
iii, 23. Not only the dead but graves too were frequently crowned
with ~se/linon~, parsley: Plu., _Timol._ 26; _Smp._ 5, 3, 2, p. 676
D; Diogen. viii, 57, and others; cf. above, chap. iv, n. 21. The
crowning invariably implies some form of consecration to a god. Acc.
to Tertul., _Cor. Mil._ 10, the dead were crowned quoniam et ipsi
idola statim fiunt habitu et cultu consecrationis; which at least
gets nearer the real sense of the practice than the view of Sch.
Ar., _Lys._ 601: ~ste/phanos edi/doto toi=s nekroi=s hôs to\n bi/on
diêgônisme/nois~.]
[41\5: Pl., _Lg._ 959 A. Poll. iii, 65. A still stranger reason
added ap. Phot. ~pro/thesis~.]
[42\5: Permission to attend either the ~pro/thesis~ of the corpse
(and the funeral lamentation) or the funeral procession (the
~ekphora/~) given only to women of kinship ~mechri\ anepsio/têtos~:
Law ap. Dem. 43, 62-3: i.e. within the ~agchistei/a~, to which alone
the duty of the cult of the dead belonged in principle. Only these
women of the immediate kin are ~miaino/menai~ in the case of death:
cf. Hdt. vi, 58; this is the reason for the restrictions laid down
by the funeral regulation from Keos (_SIG._ 877, 25 ff.), which
makes an even narrower selection within the ranks of the
~agchistei/a~. (From l. 22 ~mê\ hupotithe/nai~, etc., the law speaks
of the ~pro/thesis~, even though at the beginning only the
~ekphora/~ is in question.)]
[43\5: ~amucha\s koptome/nôn aphei=len~. Plu., _Sol._ 21. The
democratizing of life in Attica after Solon's time may have
contributed to the carrying out there of provisions restricting the
elaborate funeral rites of the old aristocratic period. The practice
of ~ko/ptesthai epi\ tethnêko/ti~ appears, however, to have remained
in use: beating of the head at funeral lamentations is a favourite
motif in Attic vase-paintings (the so-called "Prothesis" vases); cf.
_Monum. dell' Instit._ viii, 4, 5; iii, 60, etc. See Benndorf,
_Griech. Sicil. Vasenb._ 1.]
[44\5: ~to\ thrênei=n pepoiême/na~, Plu., _Sol._ 21: by which is
meant funeral hymns carefully prepared beforehand and perhaps
ordered from professional ~thrê/nôn sophistai/~, not spontaneous
expressions of grief breaking out as though involuntarily.]
[45\5: Plu., _Sol._ 21: ~kai\ to\ kôku/ein a/llon en taphai=s
hete/rôn aphei=len~. This must surely mean: Solon forbade dirges to
be sung at a funeral of one person in honour of another, different
from the person actually being buried. (~hete/rôn~ is only used for
variety after ~a/llon~ and simply = ~a/llôn~: as frequently by Attic
writers: ~mê\ proïe/menon a/llon hete/rô| tê\n allagê\n~, Pl., _Lg._
viii, 849 E: ~he/teron--a/llon~ Isoc. 10, 36, etc.). {190} The
tendency to extend the funeral hymns to include others besides the
dead man is implied by a prohibition in a funeral ordinance of the
~patri/a~ of the ~Labua/dai~ at Delphi (fifth-fourth century B.C.),
_BCH._ '95, p. 11, l. 39 ff. ~tô=n de\ pro/sta tethnako/tôn en toi=s
sama/tessi mê\ thrênei=n mêd' ototu/zen~ (at the funeral of another
person). Was Homer thinking of something of the kind in ~T~ 302:
~Pa/troklon pro/phasin~--?]
[46\5: In Athens it had once been the custom ~hierei=a prospha/ttein
pro\ tê=s ekphora=s~, i.e. while still in the house of the dead
person: [Pl.] _Min._ 315 C. Such a sacrifice _before_ the ~ekphora/~
(which is not described till l. 1261 ff.) is implied by Euripides,
_Hel._ 1255, at the burial of the dead body found in the sea:
~prospha/zetai me\n hai=ma prô=ta nerte/rois~--where ~prospha/gion~
is used inaccurately of sacrifice at the grave, in which case the
~_pro/_~ is meaningless; as also in the insc. from Keos (_SIG._ 877,
21). ~pro/sphagma~ is also thus used, Eur., _Hec._ 41. Plu. (_Sol._
21) says of Solon: ~enagi/zein de\ bou=n ouk ei/asen~. Possibly
Solon **forbade the sacrifice of animals _before_ the ~ekphora/~,
since the author of the Ps.-Platonic _Minos_ seems also to refer to
such a prohibition.]
[47\5: The Solonian restrictions says Plu. (_Sol._ 21) have been for
the most part adopted in our (i.e. the Boeotian) ~no/moi~--as acc.
to the indubitable witness of Cicero, Solon's funeral regulations
had been reproduced **eisdem prope verbis in the tenth of the Twelve
Tables by the Decemviri. Limits set to ceremonial mourning in
Sparta: Plu., _Lyc._ 27 (whence _Inst. Lac._, 18, p. 238 D), in
Syracuse by Gelon: D.S. 11, 38, 2; cf. "Charondas", Stob., _Fl._ 44,
40 M. = iv, 2, 24, p. 153, 10 H. Some degree of restriction was
imposed on their members (about the beginning of the fourth century
B.C.) by the ~patri/a~ of the ~Labua/dai~ in Delphi in the
~tethmo/s~ published in the _BCH._ '95, p. 9 ff.]
[48\5: We have a very naive expression of the ideas lying behind
such violent lamentations, self-inflicted injuries, and other
excessive demonstrations of grief in the presence of the dead body,
when e.g. in Tahiti people wound themselves and then "call out to
the soul of the dead man to witness their attachment to him"
(Ratzel, _Hist. of Mankind_, i, 330); cf. Waitz-Gerland, _Anthrop._
vi, 402.]
[49\5: It is a very ancient idea common to many different nations
that too violent expressions of grief for the dead man may disturb
his rest and make him return: see Mannhardt, _Götter der deutschen
Völker_, 1860, p. 290 (for Germany in partic. see Wuttke, _Deut.
Volksabergl._^2, § 728, p. 431; Rochholz, _D. Glaube u. Brauch_, i,
207). Similar superstition in Greece is referred to in Lucian,
_Luct._ 24 (in which the lateness of the witness does not prevent
the belief from being ancient). The survivors who prolong beyond
reason their laments are asked: ~me/chri ti/nos oduro/metha? e/ason
anapau/sasthai tou\s tou= makari/ou dai/monas~.--In Pl., _Mx._ 248
B, the dead say ~deo/metha pate/rôn kai\ mête/rôn eide/nai ho/ti ou
thrênou=tes oude\ olophuro/menoi hêma=s hêmi=n ma/lista
chariou=ntai~--thus violent grief is intended in Greece, too, to
please the dead: see last note--~alla\ . . . hou/tôs _acha/ristoi_
ei=en a\n ma/lista~: while acc. to "Charondas", Stob., _Fl._ iv, 2,
24, p. 153 H.: ~_acharisti/a esti\ pro\s dai/monas chthoni/ous_
lu/pê hupe\r to\ me/tron gignome/nê~.]
[50\5: ~ekphe/rein to\n apothano/nta tê=| husterai/a| hê=| a\n
prothô=ntai, pri\n hê/lion exe/chein~, Solonian law in D. 43, 62;
cf. Antipho, _Chor._ 34. Klearch. ap. Proclus _in Pl. _Rp.__ ii, 114
Kroll: Kleonymos in Athens, ~tethna/nai do/xas tri/tês hême/ras
ou/sês kata\ to\n no/mon proute/thê~, i.e. it was the morning of the
third day, immediately before the ~ekphora/~, the ~pro/thesis~
having occupied the whole of the second day (quite differently taken
by Maass, _Orpheus_, 1895, p. 232, 46; but hardly correctly. It is
scarcely probable that a man ~tethna/nai do/xas~, i.e. seeming to
those {191} around him to be dead, should be recognized by these
same people and treated as merely in a trance--as in fact, was the
case). So, too, in the analogous story of Thespesios of Soli in
Plutarch, _S. Num. Vind._ 22, p. 563 D, ~tritai=os, ê/dê peri\ ta\s
tapha\s auta/s, anê/negke~ (Philostr., _VA._ 3, 38, p. 114, 28 K.:
the wife of the man who has just died ~peri\ tê\n eunê\n hu/brise,
tritai/ou keime/nou~ [sc. ~tou= andro/s~] ~gamêthei=sa hete/rô|~:
i.e. immediately before the ~ekphora/~, while the dead man still was
in the house). Similar customs are implied for the Greeks in Cyprus
ap. Ant. Lib. 39, 5, p. 235, 21 West. [= p. 122, 7 f. Mart.]:
~hême/ra| de\ tritê| to\ sô=ma proê/negkan eis emphane/s (eis
toumphane/s~?) ~hoi prosê/kontes~. Further, acc. to Plato's view as
given in _Lg._ 959 A, there should be ~tritai/a pro\s to\ mnê=ma
ekphora/~.]
[51\5: Before sunrise: D. 43, 62 (more distinctly commanded by a law
of Dem. Phal.: Cic., _Lg._ ii, 66). On the other hand, it was
considered a disgrace to be buried during the night: ~ê= kako\s
kakô=s taphê/sê|, nukto\s ouk en hême/ra|~, Eur., _Tro._ 448.]
[52\5: So in particular the funeral-law from Keos, _SIG._ 877; cf.
Plu., _Sol._ 21; Bergk, _Rh. Mus._ 15, 468. Funeral-law of the
Labyadai at Delphi, l. 29 f.: ~strô=ma de\ he\n hupobale/tô kai\
poikepha/laion he\n potithe/tô~ (for the dead).]
[53\5: Reproduced _Monum. dell' Instituto_, ix, 391 [and in
Rayet-Collignon, _Céramique grecque_, Pl. i].]
[54\5: The law in D. 43, 62 (cf. 64), makes restrictions in the
attendance at a funeral which are to apply to women only (and only
then for those under 60): men seem therefore to be granted
permission indiscriminately. We are told too in Plu., _Sol._ 21,
that at the ~ekkomidê/~ Solon had _not_ forbidden ~ep' allo/tria
mnê/mata badi/zein~--for men that is, we must suppose. The men went
in front in procession; the women followed: D. 43, 62. Evidently the
same applied in Keos: _SIG._ 877, 20.--Pittakos as aesymnetes in
Mitylene forbade absolutely accedere quemquam in funus aliorum,
Cic., _Lg._ ii, 65.--Funeral-law of the Labyadai (Delphi, l. 42 ff.:
from the burial ~api=men woi/kade he/kaston, e/chthô homesti/ôn kai\
patradelpheô=n kai\ pentherô=n kêkgo/nôn kai\ gambrô=n~, i.e. the
next-of-kin of the dead in ascending and descending order.]
[55\5: This is referred to as still-existing custom by Plato, _Lg._
800 E; cf. Sch. ad loc.; Hesych. ~Kari=nai~. Menand. ~Kari/nê~,
Mein., _Com._ iv, p. 144 (Karo-phrygian funeral-flutes: Ath. 174 F:
Poll. iv, 75-9).]
[56\5: ~to\n thano/nta de\ phe/ren katakekalumme/non siôpê=| me/chri
epi\ to\ sê=ma~, _SIG._ 877, 11. Funeral-law of Labyad., l. 40 ff.
~to\n de\ nekro\n kekalumme/non phere/tô siga=|, kê\n tai=s
strophai=s~ ("at the street-corners") ~mê\ kattithe/ntôn mêdamei=,
mêd' ototuzo/ntôn e/chthos ta=s woiki/as pri/g k' epi\ to\ sa=ma
hi/kônti; tênei= d' e/nagos e/stô ktl.~ (the last not yet
satisfactorily explained).
[57\5: Solon diminished (under the alleged influence of Epimenides)
at funerals ~to\ sklêro\n kai\ to\ barbariko\n hô=| sunei/chonto
pro/teron hai plei=stai gunai=kes~, Plu., _Sol._ 12.]
[58\5: In the list of quotations from individual authors from the
fifth century on, given in Becker **_Char._^2 iii, 98 ff. [= E.T.^3
pp. 390-1], only the foll. speak for _burial_ as the prevailing
custom: Plu., _Sol._ 21. ~ouk ei/asen~ (Solon) ~_suntithe/nai_
ple/on himati/ôn triô=n~, and Plu., _Lyc._ 27, ~_suntha/ptein_
ou/den eiasen~ (Lycurg.) ~alla\ en phoiniki/di kai\ phu/llois
elai/as _the/ntes to\ sô=ma_ perie/stellon~: cf. Th. i, 134, 4.
_Cremation_, on the other hand, is implied as the more common in
Athens (fourth century) by Is. 4, 19: ~_ou/t' e/kausen_ out'
ôstolo/gêsen~; so, too, the will (third century) of the Peripatetic
Lykon (D.L. v, 70): ~peri\ de\ tê=s ekphora=s kai\ {192} _kau/seôs_
epimelêthê/tôsan ktl.~ Cf. Also Teles ap. Stob. 40, 8, i, p. 747, 5
H.; ~ti/ diaphe/rei hupo\ puro\s katakauthê=nai~--which is here
regarded as _Greek_ funeral usage.--In the graves recently
discovered before the Dipylon gate in Athens those belonging to the
earliest period almost without exertion have their dead _buried_
(without coffin); the following period (into the sixth century)
generally burnt their dead; later, burial seems to have been more
usual--see the account by Brückner and Pernice of the excavations
before the Dipylon gate, _Ath. Mitt._ 1893, pp. 73-191. Thus it
appears that in the later period burial was the prevailing practice
in Attica (L. Ross, _Archaeol. Aufs._ i, 23), as also, being
essentially cheaper than cremation, in other parts of Greece as well
(a few references given in _BCH._ '95, p. 144, 2).]
[59\5: ~ôstolo/gêsen~, Is. 4, 19.]
[60\5: The custom of ~ekphora/~ on an open ~kli/nê~ is not in
harmony with the intention of laying the body of the dead in a
coffin, but evidently presupposes that the body is to be placed
either unenveloped in the ground or else to be burnt. The practice
of coffin-burial (probably introduced from the East) later became
common, but was never completely harmonized with the ancient
ceremonies of the _~ekphora/~_.]
[61\5: Coffinless burial was usual in the graves of the "Mycenaean"
period, and also in the oldest times in Attica. The Spartans were
merely keeping up this ancient custom when they ~en phoiniki/di kai\
phu/llois elai/as the/ntes to\ sô=ma perie/stellon~ (buried), Plu.,
_Lyc._ 27. Here everything points to the retention of primitive
usage. The bodies were buried in the ancient fashion, not burnt;
they were wrapped in a crimson robe. Crimson is otherwise the
special colour for war and festival dress (cf. Müller, _Dorians_,
ii, 264); here it is used in connexion with chthonic cult: ~e/chei
ga/r tina to\ porphurou=n chrô=ma sumpa/theian pro\s to\n tha/naton~
says rightly Artemid. 1, 77, p. 70, 11 H. This can hardly be because
of the red colour of blood; any more than that is why ~tha/natos~ is
called ~porphu/reos~. But even Homer ~Ô~ 796 makes Hektor's bones
wrapped ~_purphure/ois_ pe/ploisi~--the bones only in this case
instead of the whole body: clearly a vestige of an older custom
which survived unchanged in Sparta. Similarly ~Ps~ 254. So, too,
e.g. in the Dipylon graves at Athens burnt bones were found wrapped
in a cloth, _Ath. Mitt._ 18, 160-1, 185. The head of the murdered
brother ~_phoiniki/di_ ekalupsa/tên kai\ ethapsa/tên~ the two other
Kabeiroi in the religious myth related by Clem. Al., _Protr._ ii, p.
16 P. Crimson frequently occurs as a colour used in chthonic cult:
e.g. at the ceremonial ~a/rai~ implying consecration to the infernal
deities in [Lys.] 6, 51; at sacrifices to the Plataean Heroes: Plu.,
_Arist._ 21; at the transfer of the bones of Rhesos: see above,
chap. iv, n. 36; Polyaen. vi, 53; at sacrifices to the Eumenides,
Aesch., _Eum._ 1028.--The custom of burial upon leaves was also
retained by the Pythagoreans: they buried their dead (without
burning them, Iamb., _VP._ 154) in myrti et oleae et populi nigrae
foliis (in fact, the trees regularly sacred to the ~chtho/nioi~),
Plin. 35, 160. Fauvel (ap. Ross, _Arch. Aufs._ i, 31) found in
graves by the Melitean gate at Athens le squelette couché sur un lit
épais de feuilles d'olivier encore en état de brûler. (Olive stones
in Mycenaean Graves, Tsundas, ~Eph. Arch.~, '88, p. 136; '89, p.
152.)]
[62\5: Thus in the letter of Hipparchos, in Phlegon, 1; similarly
Xen. Eph. 3, 7, 4 (see my _Griech. Roman_, p. 391 n. 2). Plato
wished his Euthynoi to be buried like this on stone ~kli=nai~ (_Lg._
xii, 947 D); and this is probably how the bodies were placed in the
rock burial-chambers provided with separate couches, such as occur
at e.g. Rhodos and Kos {193} (see Ross, _Arch. Aufs._ ii, 384 ff.,
392): cf. esp. the description given by Heusey, _Mission arch. de
Macédoine_ (_Texte_), p. 257 ff., '76. It is the regular mode of
burial in Etruria (following Greek models?): several skeletons have
been found there lying on couches of masonry in the grave-chambers.]
[63\5: As though the dead had not entirely departed ~kai\ ho/pla
kai\ skeu/ê kai\ hima/tia sunê/thê toi=s tethnêko/sin suntha/ptontes
hê/dion e/chousin~ Plu., _Ne Suav. Ep._ 26, p. 1104 D. Restrictions
in Law of the Labyad. (l. 19 ff.) ~ho/d' ho tethmo/s per tô=n
entothêkô=n; mê\ ple/on pe/nte kai\ tria/konta drachma=n enthe/men,
mê/te pria/menon mê/te woi/kô~.]
[64\5: Helbig, _Hom. Epos._ 41.]
[65\5: ~belti/ones kai\ krei/ttones~. Arist., _Eudem._ 37 [44] ap.
Plu., _Cons. Apoll._ 27, p. 115 BC.]
[66\6: [Pl.] _Min._ 315 D. To raise doubts on this point is mere
perversity. It is of no avail to advance the argument (which is
commonly used also against the similar statements about Rome in
Serv., _A._ v, 64; vi, 152) that this story only intends to explain
the origin of the worship of the household _Lares_. The Greeks did
not have this particular worship, or else it was so completely
forgotten that no explanatory account of its origin was ever
offered.--Beside the hearth and the altar of Hestia the most ancient
resting place of the head of the house must have been placed too.
When the wife of Phokion had had the body of her husband burnt
abroad ~entheme/nê tô=| ko/lpô| ta\ osta= kai\ komi/sasa nu/ktôr eis
tê\n oiki/an katô/ruxe para\ tê\n hesti/an~, Plu., _Phoc._ 37.--It
was wrongly believed that in the remarkable rock-graves in the
neighbourhood of the Pnyx at Athens examples of such graves situated
inside the house had been discovered. See Milchhöfer in Baumeister's
_Denkm._ 153b.]
[67\5: This occurs among the New Zealanders, Eskimos, etc.; cf.
Lubbock, _Prehistoric Times_, pp. **465, 511, etc.]
[68\5: In Sparta and Tarentum: see Becker, _Char._^2 iii, 105
(E.T.^3 p. 393). Acc. to Klearch. ap. Ath. 522 F certain men of
Tarentum were struck by lightning and killed; they were then buried
~pro\ tô=n thurô=n~ of their houses and ~stê=lai~ were put up in
their honour. If they had really been the criminals that legend made
them it would have been impossible, even in Tarentum, for them to
have been buried within the walls of the city, still less before the
doors of their houses--an honour given only to Heroes; cf. above,
chap. iv, n. 136. The violent alteration of ~pro\ tô=n thurô=n~ into
~pro\ tô=n pulô=n~ in order to avoid this difficulty, is obviously
rendered untenable by the previous ~heka/stê tô=n oikiô=n ho/sous
ktl.~ The legend is evidently a fiction and these ~dio/blêtoi~ (to
whom it appears, as Heroes, neither the funeral dirge nor the usual
~choai/~ were offered) must have belonged to the class of those whom
death by the flash of lightning raised to a higher and honoured rank
(see _Append._ 1). Thus, too, the graves in the market at Megara
mentioned by Becker must have been Hero-graves: see above, chap. iv,
n. 83. These cases where the graves of Heroes are found in the
middle of the city, in the market place, etc., show very plainly the
essential difference that was held to exist between the Heroes and
the ordinary dead.]
[69\5: The ~mnê=ma koino\n pa=si toi=s apo\ Bouse/lou genome/nois~
was a ~polu\s to/pos peribeblême/nos, hô/sper hoi archai=oi
eno/mizon~: D. 43, 79. The Bouselidai composed not a ~ge/nos~, but a
group of five ~oi=koi~ bound together by definitely traceable ties
of kinship. The members of a ~ge/nos~ in its political sense no
longer held graves in common possession: see Meier, _de gentil.
Att._ 33; Dittenb., _Hermes_, 20, 4. The ~Kimô/neia {194} mnê/mata~
were also family-graves: Plu., _Cim._ 4, Marcellin. _V. Th._ 17,
Plu., _X Or._, p. 838 B. It was always insisted on, for obvious
reasons, that no stranger to the family should be laid in the family
grave. But just as the penal clauses so often inscribed on graves of
a later period were necessary to prevent the burial of strangers in
those graves, so too Solon had to make a law in respect of graves ne
quis alienum inferat: Cic., _Lg._ ii, 64.]
[70\5: The speaker in Dem. 55, 13 ff., mentions the ~palaia\
mnê/mata~ of the ~pro/gonoi~ of the earlier possessors of his
~chôri/on~ (country-estate). This custom of burying the family dead
in the private ground of the family ~kai\ toi=s a/llois chôri/ois
sumbe/bêke~. Timarchos is asked by his mother ~to\ Alôpe/kê|si
chôri/on~ (which lay 11 or 12 stades away from the city walls)
~_entaphê=nai_ hupolipei=n autê=|~ (in spite of which he sold it):
Aeschin., _Tim._ 99. Examples in East Attica of walled-in family
cemeteries with room for many graves: Belger, _Localsage von den
Gräbern Agamem._, etc. (Progr. Berl. 1893), pp. 40-2. It was thus
the very general custom to keep the family graves on their own
ground and soil; and this corresponds closely enough with the oldest
custom of all, that of burying the master of the house in his own
home.--In Plu., _Arist._ 1, Demetr. Phal. mentions an ~Aristei/dou
chôri/on en hô=| te/thaptai~ in Phaleron.]
[71\5: Restriction of the growing magnificence of grave columns in
Athens made by Demetr. Phal., Cic., _Lg._ ii, 66. (Penal clauses
~ei/ ti/s ka tha/[ptê| ê\ epi/]stama ephista=| ktl.~ in a law from
Nisyros [_Berl. Phil. Woch._ 1896, pp. 190, 420]: they probably do
not refer to a general prohibition of tombstones altogether.)]
[72\5: Cf. Curtius, _Z. Ges. Wegebaus Gr._, p. 262.]
[73\5: Nemora aptabant sepulcris ut in amoenitate animae forent post
vitam: Serv., _A._ v, 760. In lucis habitabant manes piorum: iii,
302; cf. ad i, 441; vi, 673. "My grave is in a grove, the pleasant
haunt of birds," says a dead man ~o/phra kai\ ein A/ïdi terpno\n
e/choimi to/pon~, _Epigr. Gr._ 546, 5-14.]
[74\5: Cf. the ins. from Keos, _SIG._ 877, 8-9. Eur. _IT._ 633 ff.:
~xanthô=| t' elai/ô| sô=ma so\n katasbe/sô, kai\ **. . . ga/nos
xouthê=s meli/ssês es pura\n balô=~.]
[75\5: ~enagi/zein de\ bou=n ouk ei/asen~, Plu., _Sol._ 21.]
[76\5: ~prosphagi/ô|~ (at the funeral) ~chrê=sthai kata\ ta\
pa/tria~, _SIG._ 877, 13. In general, however, the sacrifice of
animals at the graves of private individuals gradually became rarer
and rarer: see Stengel, _Chthon. u. Todt._ 430 f.]
[77\5: Cf. esp. the ins. from Keos, l. 15 ff., 30. The
~egchutri/striai~ employed in old Athenian usage, [Pl.] _Min._ 315
C, seem to have been women who caught the blood of the sacrificed
animals in bowls and purified the ~miaino/menoi~ with it. The name
itself suggests it; to this effect is one among several other,
clearly mistaken, explanations given by the Schol. to _Min._, loc.
cit. (differently Sch. Ar., _Vesp._ 289).]
[78\5: ~peri\ ta\ pe/nthê . . . homopathei/a| tou= kekmêko/tos
kolobou=men hêma=s autou\s tê=| te koura=| tô=n trichô=n kai\ tê=|
tô=n stepha/nôn aphaire/sei~, Arist. _fr._ 108 (101) Rose.]
[79\5: ~peri/deipnon~. This is implied as universally occurring by
Aen. Tact. 10, 5. This meal shared by the relatives (who alone are
invited: Dem. 43, 62) must be meant by Heraklid., _Pol._ 30, 2,
~para\ toi=s Lo/krois odu/resthai ouk e/stin epi\ toi=s
teleutê/sasin, all' epeida\n ekkomi/sôsin euôchou=ntai~.]
[80\5: ~hê hupodochê\ gi/gnetai hupo\ tou= apothano/ntos~, Artemid.
5, 82, p. 271, 10 H.]
[81\5: Cic., _Lg._ ii, 63 (cf. **~le/gein epide/xia epi\
tethnêko/ti~, Anaxandr. ap. Ath. 464 A.). On the other {195} hand,
mentiri nefas erat. And yet ~eiô/thesan hoi palaioi\ en toi=s
peridei/pnois to\n teleutêko/ta epainei=n, kai\ ei phau=los ê=n~,
Zenob. v, 28, and other Paroemiogr.--Besides this the lamentation
for the dead may have been renewed at the various commemorations of
the dead; the funeral regulation of the Labyadai at Delphi forbids
expressly (not the festival but) the funeral dirge on such
occasions: l. 46 ff. ~mêde\ ta=| husterai/a|~ (after the burial, on
which day the ~peri/deipnon~ was held) ~mêde\ en tai=s deka/tais
mêd' en toi=s eniautoi=[s]~ (we should expect rather ~en t.
_eniauti/ois_~, cf. nn. 88-92 of this chap.) ~mê/t' oimô/zen mê/t'
ototu/zen~.]
[82\5: These meals given to the dead took place at the grave itself.
Ar., _Lys._ 612 f. ~hê/xei soi . . .~; Is. 8, 39, ~ta\ e/nata
epê/negka~.]
[83\5: The ~tri/ta~ and ~e/nata~, at any rate, were held on the
third and ninth days after the funeral, and not after the day of
death. It is true the references to these sacrifices in Ar., _Lys._
612 ff., Is., etc., do not make this very clear. But if the ~tri/ta~
had taken place on the third day after death it would have coincided
with the ~ekphora/~ itself, which is against all the evidence.
Further, the Roman _novemdiale_, which was clearly modelled on Greek
custom, also occurred on the ninth day after the burial, acc. to the
unequivocal testimony of Porph. on Hor., _Epod._ xvii, 48 (nona die
quam sepultus est). This is also deducible from Vg., _A._ v, 46 ff.,
and 105; cf. also Ap., _M._ ix, 31.]
[84\5: That this was the object of the Novemdialia festival at Rome
is shown clearly enough by the evidence; that the same was true of
Greece is at least highly probable; cf. K. O. Müller, _Aesch. Eum._,
p. 143 [120 E.T.]. Leist, _Graecoitalische Rechts._, p. 34.--Nine is
evidently a round number, esp. in Homer; i.e. the division of
periods of time into groups of nine was in antiquity a very common
and familiar practice. Cf. now, Kaegi, _Die Neunzahl bei den
Ostariern_, Phil. Abh. f. Schweitzer-Sidler, 50 ff. Mourning customs
were really intended to ward off maleficent action on the part of
the dead. They lasted as a rule as long as the return of the soul of
the dead was to be feared (esp. so in India: see Oldenberg, _Rel. d.
Veda_, p. 589), and acc. to ancient belief the soul can return once
more on the ninth day after death. See below, chap. xiv, ii, n.
154.]
[85\5: A ~chro/nos pe/nthous~ of eleven days, the mourning concluded
with a sacrifice to Demeter: Plu., _Lyc._ 27; cf. Hdt. vi, 58 fin.
The Labyadai at Delphi celebrate the _tenth_ day after the funeral
as a feast of the dead; see above, n. 81 of this chapter. This
mourning period is not otherwise demonstrable for Greece (_SIG._
633, 5, is different), but it is met with again among the Indians
and Persians (cf. Kaegi, p. 5, 11), and may be primitive.]
[86\5: Lex. Rh., in _AB._ 268, 19 ff.; Phot. a little differently:
~kathe/dra; tê=| triakostê=| (prô/tê|~ Phot.: ~A~ instead of ~L~)
~hême/ra| tou= apothano/ntos hoi prosê/kontes suneltho/ntes koinê=|
edeipnou=n epi\ tô=| apothano/nti--kai\ tou=to kathe/dra ekalei=to~
(Phot. adds: ~ho/ti kathezo/menoi edei/pnoun kai\ ta\ nomizo/mena
eplê/roun;) ê=san de\ kathe/drai te/ssares~ (the last clause is
absent from Phot.) It was a meal shared by the relatives of the dead
in honour of the dead and held "on the thirtieth day"; possibly
nothing more nor less than the oft-mentioned ~triaka/des~. The
guests eat their food _sitting_ after the old custom prevailing in
Homeric times and always observed by women; as applied to men it
survived in Crete only, see Müller, _Dorians_, ii, 284. Perhaps this
primitive attitude preserved in cultus is what we see in the Spartan
sculptured reliefs representing "feasts of the dead" where the
figures are _seated_. There were four such ~kathe/drai~, i.e. the
period of mourning extended over four months: thus it was the law in
Gambreion (_SIG._ 879, 11 ff.) that {196} mourning might last at the
most three months, or in the case of women four. We often hear of
monthly repetitions of the feasts of the dead: monthly celebration
of the ~eika/des~ for Epicurus in acc. with his will, D.L. x, 18;
cf. Cic., _Fin._ ii, 101; Plin. 35, 5; ~kata\ mê=na~ sacrifice to
the deified Ptolemies, _CIG._ 4697, 48. (In India, too, the
sacrifices to the dead on the thirtieth of the month were several
times repeated: Kaegi, 7; 11.)]
[87\5: The Lexicographers, Harp., Phot., etc. (_AB._ 308, 5, is
ambiguous, too), speak of the ~triaka/s~ in a way that makes it hard
to see whether they mean the traditional sacrifice of the dead
taking place regularly on the thirtieth day of the month, or a
special offering on the thirtieth day after burial or after the day
of death (~hê triakostê\ hême/ra dia\ tou= thana/tou~ Harp., Phot.
~meta\ tha/naton~ is the correction of Schömann on Is., p. 219, but
~dia\ thana/tou~ is formed, not quite correctly, on the analogy of
~dia\ chro/nou, dia\ me/sou~ [even ~dia\ progo/nôn~ "since the time
of our forefathers", Polyb. 21, 21, 4], and must mean the same
thing, viz. "after death"). But in Lys. 1, 14, we have the idea
clearly expressed that the period of mourning should last till the
thirtieth day (see Becker, _Char._^2 3, 117 E.T.^3, p. 398), and in
this case it is natural to suppose that the ~triaka/des~
corresponding with the ~tri/ta~ and ~e/nata~, took place on the
thirtieth day after burial. So, too, the ins. from Keos, _SIG._ 877,
21, ~epi\ tô=| thano/nti triêko/stia mê\ poiei=n~. For Argos see
Plu., _Q. Gr._ 24, p. 296 F. It is evident that the ~triaka/des~
were not so firmly established in Athens (at least in the fourth
century) as the ~tri/ta~ and ~e/nata~: e.g. Isaeus generally only
refers to these last as the indispensable ~nomizo/mena~: 2, 36-7; 8,
39. It appears also that it is wrong to regard the ~triaka/des~ as
otherwise exactly on a footing with the ~tr.~ and ~e/nata~, as is
generally done. The last-mentioned pair were sacrifices to the dead,
the ~triaka/des~ seems to have been a commemorative banquet of the
living.--These fixed periods of mourning like so much else in the
cult of the dead may have been handed down by tradition from a very
early time. The third, ninth (or tenth), and thirtieth days after
the funeral marked stages in the gradually diminishing "uncleanness"
of the relatives of the dead, and this existed, it appears, already
in "Indo-Germanic" times. Until the ninth day the relatives were
still in contact with the departed and were consequently "unclean";
the thirtieth day puts an end to this, and is a memorial festival
(though often repeated); cf. Kaegi, pp. 5, 10, 12 (of the separate
edition); Oldenberg, 578. In Christian usage, sanctioned by the
church, the third, ninth, and fortieth days after death or after
burial were very early observed as memorial days (sometimes third,
seventh, thirtieth; cf. Rochholz, _D. Gl. u. Brauch_, i, 203), and
survive in some cases to the present day: see _Ac. Soc. ph. Lips._
v, 304 f.]
[88\5: ~ta\ neku/sia tê=| triaka/di a/getai~: Plu., _Prov. Alex._
viii, p. 6, 10 Crus. (App. prov. Vat. in Schneidewin's Crit. App. to
Diogen. viii, 39). There was a festival kept by servants in honour
of their dead masters (~allathea/des~, _GDI._ 1731, 10; 1775, 29;
1796, 6) twice monthly, at the ~_noumêni/a_~ and on the seventh:
_GDI._ 1801, 6-7 Delphi. The last three days of the month are at
Athens sacred to the inhabitants of the lower world and therefore
~apophra/des~: _EM._ 131, 13 f.; _E. Gud._ 70, 3 ff.; cf. Lys.,
_fr._ 53. On these days banquets were prepared, at the crossroads,
etc., for Hekate (acc. to Ath. 325 A, for Hekate ~kai\ toi=s
apotropai/ois~ (Plu., _Symp._ 7, 6, p. 709 A). The souls of the dead
were then not forgotten. Sch. Pl., _Lg._ vii, 800 D, ~apophra/des
hême/rai en hai=s toi=s katoichome/nois choa\s epiphe/rousin~.]
{197}
[89\5: The son ~enagi/zei kath' he/kaston eniauto/n~ to his dead
father, Is. 2, 46. This sacrifice to the dead, celebrated once every
year (~thusi/a epe/teios~ offered by a ~pai=s patri/~), is the
festival of the _~Gene/sia~_, in vogue acc. to Hdt. iv, 26, among
the Greeks, everywhere as it appears. As the name shows this
festival fell on the birthday of the honoured ancestor as it
recurred (not on the day of his death as Amm. pp. 34-5 Valck.
incorrectly says); cf. Schol. Pl., _Alc._ i, 121 C. So Epicurus in
his will (D.L. x, 18) provides for a yearly celebration of his
birthday. (Similar foundation, _CIG._ 3417.) The Koans ~enagi/zousi~
to Hippokrates every year on the 27th Agrianos as his birthday:
Soran., _V.Hp._, p. 450, 13-14 West. Hero-festivals, too, fall on
the birthday of the Hero: Plu., _Arat._ 53. Gods have their
feast-days and their birthdays combined; thus Hermes has his on the
4th of the month, Artemis on the 6th, Apollo on the 7th, and so on.
These are birthday festivals repeated every month. In the second
century at Sestos, following such precedents, there was held ~ta\
gene/thlia tou= basile/ôs~ (one of the deified Attalids) ~kath'
he/kaston mê=na~: _SIG._^1 246, 36. Celebration of the ~e/mmênos
gene/sios~ of the ruling Emperor: _Ins. Perg._ ii, 374 B, 14. Even
in later times in imitation of heathen usage the Kephallenians still
honour Epiphanes, son of Karpokrates, ~kata\ _noumêni/an,
gene/thlion_ apothe/ôsin~, Clem. Al., _Str._ iii, p. 511 P.]
[90\5: This is the public festival meant by Phryn., p. 103 Lob. =
83, p. 184 Ruth., when, to distinguish it from the birthday
celebrations of living persons, ~gene/thlia~ (which did not become
common till later), he calls the ~Gene/sia, Athê/nêsin heortê/
[pe/nthimos~ add. Meursius; cf. Hesych. ~gene/sia~; _AB._ 231, 19].
The Antiatticista, in his rather absurd polemic against Phryn. (p.
86, 20 ff.), adds the still clearer statement (taken from Solon's
~a/xones~ and Philochoros) that the ~heortê\ dêmotelê/s~ of the
~Gene/sia~ at Athens was held on the 5th Boedromion. There is not
the slightest reason for doubting the correctness of this statement
(as many have done). In Rome, too, besides the many moveable
_parentalia_ of the families there was an official and public
Parentalia held every year (in Feb.). Similarly in ancient India:
Oldenberg, 550, 3.]
[91\5: The ~Neme/seia~ is mentioned by Dem. 41, 11. The context
suggests a rite performed by a daughter in honour of her dead
father. It is a quite certainly correct _conjecture_ (~mê/pote--~)
of the Lexicog. that the _Nemeseia_ may be a festival of the dead
(see Harp. s.v. _AB._ 282, 32: both glosses combined in Phot. Suid.
~neme/sia~). It is clear, however, that they knew nothing further
about it. Mommsen declares (_Heort._ 209) the _Nemeseia_ to have
been "without doubt" identical with the ~Gene/sia~. I see no reason
at all for supposing so.--The name ~neme/seia~ characterizes it as a
festival dedicated to the "wrath" of the dead, to the ~ne/mesis tô=n
thano/ntôn~, Soph., _El._ 792; ~phthime/nôn ôkuta/tê ne/mesis~,
_Epigr. Gr._ 119; cf. 195--this easily becomes a personified
~Ne/mesis~: ~e/sti ga\r en phthime/nois Ne/mesis me/ga~, _Epigr.
Gr._ 367, 9. The cult of the dead, like the cult of the underworld
in general, is always apotropaic in character (placantur sacrificiis
ne noceant, Serv., _A._ iii, 63): the Nemeseia must then have been
apotropaic in intention too.]
[92\5: At Apollonia in Chalcidice there was a yearly custom to ~ta\
no/mima suntelei=n toi=s teleutê/sasin~ in early times in
Elaphebolion, later in Anthesterion: Hegesand. ap. Ath. 334
F.--~eniau/sia~, a yearly festival of the dead (but perhaps rather
to be taken as _sacra privata_) in Keos: _SIG._ 878.--There is a
month called ~Neku/sios~ in Knossos (and common to the whole of
Crete acc. to the ~Hêmerolo/gion~ Flor. [Corsini, _Fast. Att._ ii,
428]). It took its name from a feast of the dead (~neku/sia~ is
mentioned along with ~peri/deipna~, as a regular expression by
Artemid. {193} iv, 81, p. 249, 9 H.): for this see "Treaties of
Kretan cities", _BCH._ 1879, 294, l. 56 f.--There was a month
~Agriô/nios~ or ~Agria/nios~ in Boeotia and even in Byzantium,
Kalymna, Kos, Rhodos: Hesych. ~Agria/nia; _neku/sia_ para\ Argei/ois
kai\ agô=nes en _Thê/bais_~ (as to the _Agon_ at the A. see the ins.
from Thebes, _Ath. Mitt._ vii, 349).--~etelei=to de\ kai\ thusi/a
toi=s nekroi=s en Kori/nthô|, di' hê\n tê=s po/leôs en toi=s
mnê/masin ou/sês epe/rchetai ho Alê/tês ktl.~ Sch. Pi. _N._ vii,
155.]
[93\5: Hesych. ~miarai\ hême/rai~. Phot. ~miara\ hême/ra~.]
[94\5: ~sugkleisthê=nai ta\ hiera\~ during the _Choes_: Phanodem.
ap. Ath. 437 C.]
[95\5: Phot. ~miara\ hême/ra; en toi=s Chousi\n Anthestêriô=nos
mêno/s, en hô=|~ (~en hoi=s~?) ~dokou=sin hai psuchai\ tô=n
teleutêsa/ntôn anie/nai, rha/mnon he/ôthen emasô=nto, kai\ pi/ttê|
ta\s thu/ras e/chrion. Rha/mnos; phuto/n, ho\ en toi=s Chousi\n hôs
alexipha/rmakon emasô=nto he/ôthen; kai\ pi/ttê| echri/onto ta\
sô/mata~ (leg. ~dô/mata); ami/antos ga\r hau/tê; dio\ kai\ en **tai=s
gene/sesi tô=n paidi/ôn chri/ousi ta\s oiki/as eis ape/lasin tô=n
daimo/nôn~.--I do not recollect having read elsewhere of pitch as a
protection against malevolent spirits or of its use in Greek
superstitious practices. (The _flame_ and _smoke_ of burning
pitch--and of ~a/sphaltos~: Diph. _fr._ 126 [ii, p. 577 K.] ap.
Clem. Al. _Str._ 7, 4, 26, p. 844 P.--as of sulphur, belong to the
region of magic and are ~katharmoi/~: but that is a different
matter.--~ta\ katha/rsia; tau=ta de/ esti da=|des kai\ thei=on kai\
a/sphaltos~, Zos. ii, 5, p. 67, 19 Bk.). Better known is the magic
protective power of the ~rha/mnos~. It is of use against ~pha/rmaka~
and ~phanta/smata~, and is therefore hung up on the doors ~en toi=s
enagi/smasi~: Sch. Nic., _Th._ 860 (Euphorion and Sophnon had also
referred to this superstition). Cf. Anon., _de Vir. Herb._ 9-13, 20
ff., and the Scholia (p. 486, ed. Haupt., _Opusc._ 2); also
Dioscorides i, 119 fin. (~rha/mnos~ also frightens away poisonous
beasts: Diosc. iii, 12. In the same way marjoram and scilla are
equally available against daimones and ~iobo/la~.) At Rome the
hawthorn (_spina alba_) is specially known for these purificatory
properties. Ovid, _F._ vi, 129 (at a wedding procession a torch made
of a branch of the _spina alba_ is used [Fest. 245_a_, 3 Mü.], and
this is _purgationis causa_: Varro ap. Charis., p. 144, 22 K.).--At
the _Choes_ the ~rha/mnos~ (i.e. twigs or leaves of it) is _chewed_:
this is in order that its powers may be absorbed into the chewer's
own body. The Superstitious man (like the Pythia) puts laurel leaves
in his mouth ~kai\ hou/tô tê\n hême/ran peripatei=~: also at the
_Choes_? Thphr., _Ch._ 16. The laurel in addition to its other
marvellous properties can also drive off spirits: ~e/ntha a\n hê=|
da/phnê, ekpodô\n dai/mones~, _Gp._ 11, 2, 5-7. Lyd., _Mens._ 4, 4,
p. 68, 9 Wü.]
[96\5: Sch. Ar., _Ach._ 961, p. 26, 8 ff. Dübn.--At the ~nekrô=n
dei=pna~ the souls of the departed members of the family are
summoned by the ~prosê/kontes~ to come and take their share (with
the single exception of those who have hanged themselves): Artemid.
i, 4, p. 11, 10 f. H. (cf. what is said of the ~neku/sia~ in
Bithynia by Arr. ap. Eust., ~i~ 65, p. 1615). The same thing must
have happened at the Anthesteria.]
[97\5: Worshippers offered the ~chu/tran panspermi/as~ to Hermes
~hilasko/menoi to\n Hermê=n kai\ peri\ tô=n apothano/ntôn~, Sch.
Ar., _Ach._ 1076 (Didymus from Theopomp.)--~tou\s to/te
paragenome/nous~ (read ~periginome/nous~, viz. from the Flood)
~hupe\r tô=n apothano/ntôn hila/sasthai to\n Hermê=n~, Sch. Ar.,
_Ran._ 218 (after Theop.). The offering was merely placed ready for
the recipients (not sent up to heaven in flames and smoke) as was
customary at the Theoxenia (esp. those in honour of chthonic
deities) and in offerings made to Heroes. The ~Heka/tês dei=pna~
were similar, and particularly the offerings to the Erinyes: ~ta\
pempo/mena autai=s hiera\ po/pana kai\ ga/la en a/ggesi
keramei/ois~, Sch. Aeschin. i, 188.] {199}
[98\5: _EM._ 774, 56: ~Hudropho/ria; heortê\ Athê/nêsi pe/nthimos~
(so far Hesych. too, s.v.) ~epi\ toi=s en tô=| kataklusmô=|
apolome/nois~. The feast of _Chytrai_ was also supposed to have been
a commemoration of Deucalion's Flood. The flood was said to have
subsided finally through a cleft in the earth in the Temple of ~Gê=
Olumpi/a~: Paus. 1, 18, 7. Pausanias adds, ~esba/llousin es auto\~
(the chasm) ~ana\ pa=n e/tos a/lphita purô=n me/liti ma/xantes~. It
is at least natural, with Preller, _Dem. u. Pers._ 229, n., to see
in the _Hydrophoria_ a part of which is described by Pausanias, a
festival related to the Chytrai. Connexion of the dead with ~Gê=~ in
the ~Gene/sia~ too: Hesych. s.v.--~Hudropho/ria~ a feast of Apollo
at Aegina: Sch. Pi., _N._ v, 81 (fanciful remarks thereon by K. O.
Müller, in _Aesch. Eum._, p. 141 [116 E.T.]).]
[99\5: Ovid's account of the _Lemuria_ at Rome, _F._ v, shows the
closest resemblances to the Athen. customs. The spirits are finally
driven out: Manes exite paterni! (443). The same happens in the
festivals of the dead in many places: esp. in India, Oldenberg, 553;
cf. also the Esthonian customs: Grimm, p. 1844, n. 42. A parallel
from ancient Prussia is given (after Joh. Meletius, 1551) by Ch.
Hartknoch, in _Alt- u. Neues Preussen_, 1684, pp. 187-8. There on
the third, sixth, ninth, and fortieth day after the funeral a
banquet of the relatives of the dead was held. The souls of the dead
were invited and (with other souls as well) entertained. "When the
feasting was ended the priest rose from the table and swept out the
house, driving forth the souls of the dead as though he were driving
out fleas, saying the while: 'Ye have eaten and drunk, O ye Blessed
Ones, depart hence! depart hence!'" At the close of the
lantern-feast to the dead in Nagasaki (Japan) when the entertainment
of the souls was over a great noise was made all over the house "so
that no single soul should remain behind and haunt the place--they
must be driven out without mercy": _Preuss. Exped. nach Ostasien_,
ii, 22. Other examples of the expulsion of souls given in Tylor, ii,
199. The ghosts were thought of in a thoroughly materialistic
fashion, and driven out by waving clubs in the air, swinging
torches, etc., as in the case of the ~xenikoi\ theoi/~ of the
Kaunians: Hdt. i, 172. Compare with this the prayers addressed to
Herakles in the Orphic Hymns (reproducing ancient superstitions as
frequently): ~elthe\ ma/kar . . . exe/lason de\ kaka\s _a/tas,
kla/don en cheri\ pa/llôn_, ptênoi=s t' iobo/lois _kê=ras_ chalepa\s
apo/pempe~ (12, 15-16). It will be clear how near such personified
~a=tai~ and ~kê=res~ are to the angry "souls", from which in fact
they have arisen; cf. besides, Orph., _H._ 11, 23; 14, 14; 36, 16;
71, 11.--~kê=ras apodiopompei=sthai~, Plu., _Lys._ 17.]
[100\5: ~thu/raze _Kê=res_, ouk e/t' Anthestê/ria~. This is the
correct wording of the formula; ~Ka=res~ the form common later and
explained with mistaken ingenuity. Photius has it right and
explains, ~hôs kata\ tê\n po/lin toi=s Anthestêri/ous tô=n
_psuchô=n_ perierchome/nôn.--Kê=res~--is clearly a most primitive
equivalent for ~psuchai/~ which has become almost completely
obscured in Homer, though it dimly appears in ~B~ 302, ~x~ 207,
where the ~Kê=res~ are spoken of as those who carry away other
~psuchai/~ to Hades. Aeschylus knew it (presumably from old Attic
speech) and simply substituted ~psuchai/~ for the Keres in the
fate-weighing scene in Homer, thus turning the Kerostasia into a
~Psuchostasi/a~ (to the surprise of the Schol. A, ~Th~ 70; A.B. ~Ch~
209). See O. Crusius in Ersch-Gruber, "Keren," 2, 35, 265-7 [Aesch.
_fr._ 279 Sidg.].]
[101\5: Cf. the collections in Pottier, _Les lécythes blancs
attiques à représ. funér._, p. 57, 70 ff.]
[102\5: Though not all of them, some at any rate of the scenes in
which {200} lyre-playing at a grave is represented on a lekythos are
to be taken as implying that the living provide music for the
entertainment of the dead: see Furtwängler on the _Sammlung
Saburoff._ i, Pl. lx.]
[103\5: See **Benndorf, _Sicil. u. unterital. Vasenb._, p. 33.]
[104\5: How the mode of conceiving the spiritual activity of the
dead and consequently the cult of the dead was at first more solemn
and awestruck and completely on a par with the cult of the
~chtho/nioi~; how in the course of time the relations of the living
to the departed became more familiar and the cult of the dead
correspondingly less awe-inspiring, more piously protective in
character than apotropaic--all this is set out in more detail by P.
Stengel, _Chthonisch. u. Todtencult_ [Festschrift für Friedländer],
p. 414 ff.]
[105\5: The reliefs represent a man enthroned, sometimes alone,
sometimes with a woman beside him, stretching out a kantharos to
receive the offerings. As a rule he is approached by a group of
worshippers represented on a smaller scale. The earliest examples of
these reliefs were found in Sparta and go back to the sixth century.
Since the investigations of Milchhöfer especially, they are now
generally recognised as representing the family worship of the dead.
They are the forerunners of the representations of similar
food-offerings in which (following later custom) the Hero is lying
on a _kline_ and receiving his worshippers. (That this class of
reliefs representing "banquets of the dead" was also sacrificial in
character is proved clearly by the presence of the worshippers who
in many cases lead sacrificial victims. H. v. Fritze in _Ath. Mitt._
'96, p. 347 ff., supposes that they are intended to represent not
sacrifices but the ~sumpo/sion~ which the dead person is to enjoy in
the after life. But he can only account for the presence of the
worshippers in such a forced and unnatural way [p. 356 ff.], that
this alone seems to refute his theory. ~purami/des~ and incense
among the offerings made do not by any means contradict its nature
as a sacrifice to the dead.) The same is the meaning of the reliefs
found esp. in Boeotia in which the person worshipped is seated on a
horse, or leading a horse, and accepting offerings (summary by
Wolters, _Archäol. Zeitung_, 1882, p. 299 ff.; cf. also Gardner,
_JHS._ 1884, pp. 107-42; Furtwängler, _Samml. Sab._ i, p. 23). The
worshippers bring pomegranates, a cock (e.g. _Ath. Mitt._ ii, Pl.
20-2), a pig (cock and pig on Theban relief: _A. Mitt._ iii, 377;
pig on Boeotian rel.: _A. Mitt._ iv, Pl. 17, 2), a ram (rel. from
Patras: _A. Mitt._ iv, 125 f.; cf. the ram's head on a grave
monument from the neighbourhood of Argos, _A. Mitt._ viii, 141). All
these gifts are of the kind proper to the underworld. We know the
pomegranate as food of the ~chtho/nioi~ from the Hymn to Demeter;
the pig and ram are the main constituents of sacrifice made to the
~chtho/nioi~ and burnt in cathartic or hilastic (propitiatory)
ceremonial. In such cases the cock, of course, does not appear
because it was sacred to Helios and Selene (cf. D.L. viii, 34;
Iamb., _VP._ 84), but because it was a sacrificial animal of the
~chtho/nioi~ (and of Asklepios) and for the same reason much used in
necromancy, spirit-raising, and magic [Dieterich, _Pap. mag._ 185,
3]. As such it was forbidden food to the Mystai of Demeter at
Eleusis: Porph., _Abs._ 4, 16, p. 255, 5 N. Sch. Luc., _D. Me._ 7,
4, p. 280, 23 Rabe--Anyone who partakes of the food of the
underworld spirits is forfeit to them. On their side the reclining
or enthroned spirits of the dead on these reliefs are brought into
conjunction with a snake (_A. Mitt._ ii, Pl. 20-2; viii, Pl. 18, 1,
etc.), a dog, or a horse (sometimes a horse's head only occurs). The
snake is the well-known symbol of the Hero: the {201} dog and the
horse certainly do not represent victims as Gardner, p. 131,
thinks--their real meaning has not yet been made out. The horse
occurs sometimes by the side of women and therefore can hardly
symbolize a knight's status. I regard it as also a symbol of the
departed as now having entered the spirit-world, like the snake too
(Grimm understands it differently: p. 841 f., 844). I can form no
decided opinion as to the dog: it is not likely to be mere
genre--any more than anything else in these sculptures.]
[106\5: The ~choai/, ha/per nekroi=si meiliktê/ria~, of wine, honey,
water, or oil, which are offered in Tragedy by children at the grave
of a father--A. _Pers._ 609 ff.; _Ch._ 84 ff.; E., _IT._ 159
ff.--are modelled upon the food offerings to the dead in real life.
Honey and water (~meli/kraton~) were always the chief ingredients:
cf. Stengel, _Philolog._ 39, 378 ff.; _Jahr. f. Phil._ 1887, p. 653.
The ritual at the pouring of an ~apo/nimma~--essentially a cathartic
libation-sacrifice but also offered ~eis timê\n toi=s nekroi=s~ is
described by Kleidemos ~en tô=| Exêgêtikô=|~ (the quotation is not
complete, Ath. 409 E f. (Striking similarities in ritual and
language in Indian sacrifice to the dead: Oldenberg, _Rel. d. Ved._
550. Something extremely primitive may be preserved in these uses.)
The same is the meaning of the ~chtho/nia loutra\ toi=s nekroi=s
epiphero/mena~, Zenob. vi, 45, etc. These things have nothing to do
with the ~Hudropho/ria~, as some have thought.]
[107\5: The regular animal used as victim in ~enagi/smata~ for the
dead is a sheep; other animals occur less frequently. The black
colour is general; the sacrifice was burnt completely: cf. the
instances collected by Stengel, _Ztschr. f. Gymnasi._, 1880, p. 743
f., _Jahrb. f. Phil._ 1882, p. 322 f.; '83, p. 375.--Phot.
~kausto/n; karpôto\n ho\ enagi/zetai toi=s teteleutêko/sin~ (cf.
Hesych. ~kauto/n~).--The ~se/linon~ (a plant sacred to the dead; see
above, n. 40) probably served as food for the dead at the ~tri/ta~
and other banquets "of the dead", and was not used as food for the
living at the ~peri/deipnon~; consequently it might never be used at
the meals of the living: Plin. 20, 113, following Chrysippos and
Dionysios. (In the mysteries of the Kabeiroi the ~anaktotele/stai~
had a special reason of their own for forbidding parsley ~auto/rizon
epi\ trape/zês tithe/nai~, Clem. Al., _Protr._ ii, p. 16 P.)]
[108\5: The food offered is a meal for the dead: A., _Ch._ 483 ff.
(cf. Luc., _Luct._ 9; _Char._ 22). The dead man is summoned to come
and drink the offerings (~elthe\ d' hôs pi/ê|s~): E., _Hec._ 535 ff.
It was the general opinion that ~ho nekro\s pi/etai~ of the drink
offerings (_AP._ xi, 8; _Epigr. Gr._ 646, 12), ~hai ga\r choai\
parapsuchê/ tis eisephe/reto toi=s eidô/lois tô=n teteleutêko/tôn
ktl.~ Lyd., _Mens._ 4, 31, p. 90 Wü.]
[109\5: It feels when friends or enemies approach its grave: Is. 9,
4, 19.]
[110\5: Sch. Ar., _Av._ 1490 (referring to the ~Titano/panes~ of
Myrtilos, a poet of the Old Comedy). Phot. ~krei/ttones~ (Hesych.
~krei/ttonas~) ~hoi hê/rôes; dokou=si de\ kakôtikoi\ ei=nai; di' ho\
kai\ hoi ta\ hêrô=|a pario/ntes siôpô=sin. (hê/rôes~ and ~hêrô=|a~
here, in accordance with the usage common in later times, simply =
~teteleutêko/tes~ and ~mnê/mata~ of the usual kind.) Since a Hero in
the higher sense was buried there it was customary to pass in
silence the monument, e.g., of Narkissos, ~hê/rôs Sigêlo/s~: Str.
404 (so also the grove and chasm of Kolonos where the Erinyes dwell:
S., _OC._ 130 ff.). The feeling underlying this is easy to
understand, and the custom therefore is widespread: e.g. among West
African negroes, Réville, _Relig. des peuples non civil._ i, 73. It
is a German superstition (Grimm, p. 1811, n. 830). "Never call the
dead by name or you may _cry them up_".]
[111\5: Pl., _Phd._ 81 CD. The ~psuchê/ . . . hô/sper le/getai peri\
ta\ mnê/mata/ te {202} kai\ tou\s ta/phous kulindome/nê; peri\ ha\
dê\ kai\ _ô/phthê_ a/tta psuchô=n skioeidê= phanta/smata, ktl.~]
[112\5: See O. Jahn, _Archäol. Beitr._ 128 ff.; Benndorf, _Griech.
u. sicil. Vasenb._, p. 33 f., p. 65 (on Pl. 14, 32); also Pottier,
_Lécythes blancs_, p. 65, 2 (who proposes a doubtful theory of a
supposed _Éros funèbre_, p. 76 ff.).]
[113\5: We frequently on vases see the occupant of a grave
represented in the form of a snake at the foot of his tomb, etc.;
e.g. on the _Prothesis_ vase, _Monum. d. Instit._ viii, 4, 5, and
often, see Luckenbach, _Jahrb. f. Phil._, Suppl. ii, 500.--We have
already met with snakes as a favourite form of incarnation chosen by
~chtho/nioi~ of all kinds, deities of the underworld, Heroes, and
the ordinary dead, and we shall frequently meet with the same thing
again. Here we need only refer to Photius ~hê/rôs poiki/los--dia\
to\ tou\s o/pheis poiki/lous o/ntas hê/rôas kalei=sthai~.]
[114\5: What falls to the ground belongs to the ~hê/rôes~ ( = souls
of the dead): Ar. ~Hê/rôes~ _fr._ 305 H. and G. ~toi=s
teteleutêko/si tô=n phi/lôn ape/nemon ta\ pi/ptonta tê=s trophê=s
apo\ tô=n trapezô=n~ (alluded to by Eur. in the _Belleroph._
[_Stheneb. fr._ 667 Din.]), ap. Ath. 427 E. This is the origin of
the Pythagorean ~su/mbolon~--as usual founded on ancient belief
about the soul--~ta\ peso/nta apo\ trapezê=s mê\ anairei=sthai~,
D.L. viii, 34. Suid. ~Puthago/ra ta\ su/mbola~. This superstition is
also the reason for the ~no/mos~ said to have been current in
Kroton, ~to\ peso\n epi\ tê\n gê=n kôlu/ôn anairei=sthai~, Iamb.,
_VP._ 126. Similar belief and custom in Rome: Plin. 28, 27. Among
the ancient Prussians it was the custom not to pick up the fragments
of food that fell to the ground at meal times, but to leave them for
the "poor" souls that have no blood-relations or friends left behind
in the world to look after them; see Chr. Hartknoch, _Alt u. Neues
Preussen_, p. 188. Similar customs elsewhere: Spencer, _Princ. of
Sociol._ i, 281.]
[115\5: Solonian law: D. 20, 104; 40, 49. Plu., _Sol._ 21, ~So/lônos
ho kôlu/ôn no/mos to\n tethnêko/ta kakô=s agoreu/ein. kai\ ga\r
ho/sion tou\s methestêko/tas _hierou\s_ nomi/zein~. This reminds us
of the words of Arist., _Eudem. fr._ 37 [44] given in Plu., _C.
Apoll._ 27, p. 115 B, ~to\ pseu/sasthai/ ti kata\ tô=n
teteleukêko/tôn kai\ to\ blasphêmei=n ouch ho/sion hôs kata\
beltio/nôn kai\ kreitto/nôn ê/dê gegono/tôn~ (Chilon ap. Stob.,
_Fl._ 125, 15 M.: ~to\n teteleukêko/ta mê\ kakolo/gei alla\
maka/rize~). A very extreme form of outrage is ~pseu/sasthai kata\
tou= teleutê/santos~: Is. 9, 6; 23; 26. (The ~kakolo/gos~ is
particularly liable to ~kaka\ eipei=n peri\ tô=n teteleutêko/tôn~,
Thphr., _Char._ 28.) The heir of the dead man has the duty of
carrying out the cult of the dead man's soul, and this includes the
legal prosecution of slanderers of the dead: see Meier and Schömann,
_Att. Process_^2, p. 630.]
[116\5: Ar., _Tagenist. fr._ **485, 12, says of the dead, ~kai\
thu/ome/n g' autoi=si toi=s enagi/smasin, hô/sper _theoi=sin_ ktl.~]
[117\5: ~krei/ttones~ Hesych. Phot. s.v. Arist. ap. Plu., _C.
Apoll._ 27, p. 115 C.]
[118\5: ~hi/leôs e/chein (tou\s teleutê/santas)~: Pl., _Rp._ 427 B.]
[119\5: That the ~hê/rôes duso/rgêtoi kai\ chalepoi\ toi=s
empela/zousi gi/gnontai~ (Sch. Ar., _Av._ 1490) applies equally to
the "Heroes" properly so called--see above, chap. iv, § 11, the
legends of the Hero Anagyros, the Hero of Temesa, etc.--and to those
who gradually came to be called "Heroes" in later times by an
extension of the term, viz. the souls of the dead in
general--~chalepou\s kai\ plê/ktas tou\s hê/rôas nomi/zousi, kai\
ma=llon nu/ktôr ê\ meth' hême/ran~: Chamaileon ap. Ath. 461 C (and
hence the precautions taken against nocturnal {203} apparitions:
Ath. 149 C). Cf. Zenob. v, 60. Hesych. Phot. s. ~krei/ttones~.--That
the ~hê/rôes~ do, and are responsible for, evil _only_ and never
good (Sch. Ar., _Av._ 1490; Babr. 63) is a late belief; it does not
apply either to Heroes or ordinary dead in the conceptions of
earlier ages. Originally the "gods", just as much as Heroes and the
dead, shared in the violent and malignant nature of the unseen. This
was later confined more and more to the lower classes of the
~krei/ttones~ and came to be attached to them so exclusively that it
could in the end be regarded as a sufficient ground of distinction
between them and the gods (as it certainly had not been to start
with) that malice is excluded from the nature of the gods and
benevolence on the contrary from that of Heroes and the dead.]
[120\5: Ar., _Tagenist. fr._ **485, 13: ~kai\ choa/s ge cheo/menoi~
(to the dead) ~aitou/meth' autou\s ta\ _kala\_ deu=r' _anie/nai_~
(intended as a ~paroimi/a~ or at any rate imitated from a
tragedian--apostrophe to a dead woman ~ekei= ble/pousa, deu=r'
ani/ei tagatha/~, Sch. Ar., _Ran._ 1462--and reproduced in this
passage by the interpolator of Aristoph.). This "sending-up
blessings from below" is to be understood in the widest sense (cf.
A., _Pers._ 222); but it is natural to be reminded by such a prayer
to ~anie/nai tagatha/~ of Demeter ~anêsidô/ra~ (Paus. 1, 31, 4;
Plu., _Smp._ 9, 14, 4, p. 745 A), and of ~Gê= anêsidô/ra. dia\ to\
_karpou\s_ anie/nai~ (Hesych.); S., _OT._ 269, ~eu/chomai theou\s
mê/t' a/roton autoi=s gê=s anie/nai tina/~.--That the dead who dwell
beneath the ground were really expected to assist the growth of the
soil we may learn especially from a very interesting statement in
the Hippocratic work ~peri\ enupni/ôn~ (ii, p. 14 Kühn; vi, p. 658
Littré [~p. diai/tês~ iv, 92]). If a person in his dream sees
~apothano/ntas~ dressed in white, offering something, that is a good
omen: ~apo\ ga\r tô=n apothano/ntôn hai trophai\ kai\ auxêsies kai\
spe/rmata gi/nontai~. There was a custom at Athens of strewing seeds
of all kinds over the newly-made grave: Isigon., _Mir._ 67; Cic.,
_Lg._ ii, 63. The reason for this (evidently religious) is variously
given (another, no more convincing, is suggested by K. O. Müller,
_Kl. Schr._ ii, 302 f.). It seems most natural to suppose that the
seed of the earth is put under the protection of the souls of dead
who have now themselves become spirits inhabiting the earth. (Note
besides the entirely similar custom in ancient India, Oldenberg,
_Rel. d. Veda_, 582.)]
[121\5: Electra in A., _Ch._ 486 ff., makes a vow to the soul of her
father: ~kagô\ _choa/s_ soi tê=s emê=s pagklêri/as oi/sô patrô/|ôn
ek do/môn _gamêli/ous_; pa/ntôn de\ prô=ton to/nde presbeu/sô
ta/phon~.--As chthonic powers the Erinyes also send blessings on
agriculture and the bringing-up of children. _Rh. Mus._ 50, 21.
Prayer was also made to ~Gê=~ by those who desired to have
children.]
[122\5: ~Phano/dêmo/s phêsin ho/ti mo/noi Athênai=oi thu/ousin kai\
eu/chontai autoi=s hupe\r gene/seôs pai/dôn, ho/tan gamei=n
me/llôsin~, Phot. Suid. ~tritopa/tores~.]
[123\5: The form of the word itself shows that the ~tritopa/tores~
are simply ~pro/pappoi~. ~tritopa/tôr~ is the earliest ancestor, ~ho
pa/ppou ê\ tê/thês patê/r~ (Arist. ap. Poll. 3, 17). Just as
~mêtropa/tôr~ is ~ho mêtro\s patê/r~ and ~patropa/tôr ho patro\s
patê/r~ (Poll. 3, 16), ~propatô/r~ the forefather, ~pseudopa/tôr =
pseudê\s patê/r, epipa/tôr~ the stepfather (~mêtromê/têr = mêtro\s
mê/têr~)--in the same way ~tritopa/tôr~ is the third forefather, the
father of the ~patropa/tôr~, i.e. the ~pro/pappos~. The
~tritopa/tores~ have an alternative form ~tritopa/trei=s~, Philoch.
ap. Suidas ~tritopa/tores~: _SIG._ 443; _Leg. Sacr._ i, p. 49, l.
32, 52: in Orphic _verse_ this form alone, and not ~tritopa/tores~,
could be used: see Lobeck, _Agl._ 764. They were in fact the
~tri/toi pate/res~ (just as {204} the ~trite/ggonoi~ are the
~tri/toi e/ggonoi~, the ~e/ggonoi~ of the third generation). But the
"third forefathers" are in fact the first ancestors (Lobeck, 763
f.), ~hoi propa/tores~ (Hesych.), ~hoi prô=toi _archêge/tai_~ (_AB._
307, 16)--the ancestors of the individual first of all, his bodily
~gonei=s~ (the series of whom was not generally counted beyond the
~pro/pappos~--Is. 8, 32--i.e. the ~tritopa/tôr~), and then the
"ancestors" of the human race in general (acc. to the explanation of
Philoch. ap. Phot. Suid. ~tritop.~; cf. Welcker, _Götterl._ iii,
73).--We cannot do more than refer here to the completely analogous
ideas of the ancient Indians about the "three-fathers": the father,
grandfather, great-grandfather, as the Sapinda-fathers beyond whom
the line of ancestry was not traced (Kaegi, _Neunzahl_, pp. 5, 6).]
[124\5: The Tritopatores are most distinctly referred to as
~a/nemoi~: Demon ap. Phot. Suid. ~tritop.~ cf. ~despo/tai ane/môn~
Phot. ~tritopa/tôr~; Tz. Lyc. 738. Orphic poetry made them
~thurôrou\s kai\ phu/lakas tô=n ane/môn~. This is already a free
interpretation; the Attic belief, expressed by Demon, knows nothing
about this. It can only have been learned invention that limited
their number to three (as in the case of the originally unlimited
number of Horai, Erinyes, etc.), and gave them definite names
(Amalkeides, etc., Orph. _fr._ 240, Ab.) or identified them with the
three Hekatoncheires (Kleidemos in the ~Exêg.~). The genuine and
ancient belief about them can still be discerned through all the
confusion of misinterpretation and misunderstanding, and according
to this the ~tritopa/tores~ were the souls of ancestors who were
also wind-spirits. People prayed for children to these spirits: and
Lobeck, _Agl._ 755 ff., is right in connecting with this custom the
Orphic doctrine that the soul of man comes into him from without
with the wind. Even this, however, is only a speculative
embellishment of the popular belief about the Tritopatores (which
the Orphics cannot, as Welcker thinks, _Götterl._ iii, 71, have
"invented": they only explained it after their fashion and
consequently must have found it already existing). When we have
stripped off all speculative accretions we find the Tritopatores to
have been the souls of ancestors who have become wind-spirits and
travel in the wind like other ~psuchai/~ (whose name even is derived
from the breath of the wind). From these as from real ~pnoiai\
zô|ogo/noi~ their descendants hope for aid where the entry into life
of a new ~psuchê/~ is concerned. It is not hard to understand the
connexion between souls and wind-spirits; it is merely that such
conceptions were rare among the Greeks and for that reason these
isolated wind-spirits surviving in popular belief were turned into
individual daimones--the Tritopatores no less than the Harpies (see
_Rh. Mus._ 50, 3 ff.).]
[125\5: The words of Orestes in A., _Ch._ 483, give very naive
expression to the belief. He calls to the soul of his father:
~hou/tô~ (if thou sendest me aid) ~ga\r a/n soi dai=tes e/nnomoi
brotô=n ktizoi/at'; ei de\ mê/, par' eudei/pnois e/sei a/timos
empu/roisi knisôtoi=s chthono/s~. Thus we see that the belief
ridiculed by Luc., _Luct._ 9, was true of earlier times as well:
~tre/phontai de\ a/ra~ (the dead) ~tai=s par' hêmi=n choai=s kai\
toi=s kathagizome/nois epi\ tô=n ta/phôn; hôs ei/ tô| mê\ ei/ê
kataleleimme/nos hupe\r gê=s phi/los ê\ suggenê/s, a/sitos hou=tos
nekro\s kai\ limô/ttôn en autoi=s politeu/etai~.]
[126\5: Epicurus devotes by will certain definite ~pro/sodoi~ to the
yearly offering of ~enagi/smata~ to his parents, his brothers, and
himself: D.L. x, 18.--To the end of the third century belongs the
"Testament of Epikteta", i.e. the inscription recording the
foundation by Epikteta (who came from Thera as we know now for
certain: ~Eph. Arch.~ 1894, p. 142) of a three-day sacrificial feast
to be performed every year for {205} the Muses and "the Heroes",
i.e. for her husband, herself, and her sons; and the institution for
this special purpose of a ~koino\n tou= andrei/ou tô=n suggenô=n~
(together with women of the family). The inscr. gives also the rules
of this sacrificial society (Michel n. 1001; _CIG._ 2448).--The
offerings to the dead in this case (vi, 6 ff.) consist of a
~hierei=on~ (i.e. a sheep) and ~hiera/~, especially ~ellu/tai~ of
five choinikes of wheaten flour and a stater of dry cheese (~ell.~
are a kind of sacrificial cake specially offered to the deities of
the lower world, as for ex. to Trophonios at Lebadeia: _GDI._ 413
with n., p. 393), and in addition to these garlands are mentioned.
The following are to be sacrificed: the customary parts of the
victim, an ~ellu/tês~, a loaf, a ~pa/rax (= ba/rax, bê/rêx~:
interchange of tenuis and media as frequently) and some ~opsa/ria~
(i.e. small fishes: cf. the ~apopuri/s~ for the dead, _GDI._ 3634
Kos). The rest was probably consumed by the religious society: these
special portions the person offering the sacrifice, we are told,
~_karpôsei=_~, i.e. (he shall offer them to the Heroes by burning
them entire. Cf. Phot. ~kausto/n; _karpôto/n_, ho\ enagi/zetai toi=s
teteleutêko/sin (karpô=sai, ka/rpôma, holoka/rpôsis~, etc., are
frequent in the LXX) and Phot. ~holokarpou/menon~ and
~holokautismo/s. karpou=n = holokautou=n~ in the sacrificial
calendar from Kos, _GDI._ 3636; cf. Stengel, _Hermes_, 27, 161 f.]
[127\5: See Is. 1, 10.]
[128\5: In manumission records it is sometimes definitely enjoined
that the freed persons shall at the death of their masters
~thapsa/ntô kai\ ta\ _hô/ria_ autô=n poiêsa/tôsan~: thus on the
insc. from Phokis, _SIG._ 841. (Instructions of this kind as esp.
frequent in the records of emancipation from Delphi: see
Büchsenschütz, _Bes. u. Erw._, 178 Anm. 3-4.) ~ta\ _hô/ria_~ when
applied to the dead (_GDI._ 1545-6; ~hôrai/ôn tuchei=n~ E., _Sup._
175) means the ~kath' hô/ran suntelou/mena hiera/~ (Hesych.
~hôrai=a~; funeral ordinance of the Labyadai, l. 49 ff.: ~ta\s d'
a/llas thoi/nas kat' ta\n hô/ran agage/sthai~), i.e. the sacrifices
to be celebrated periodically (~tai=s hiknoume/nais hême/rais~, n.
138; cf. ~teletai\ hô/riai~, Pi., _P._ ix, 98 ff.). This doubtless
means in particular the ~eniau/sia hiera/~ (cf. nn. 81, 89, 92 of
this chap.). Garlanding of graves ~kat' eniauto\n tai=s hôri/ois~
(sc. ~hame/rais~), _GDI._ 1775, 21; ~kat' eniauto\n hôrai=a hiera\
apete/loun~ (to the Heroes), Pl., _Cri._ 116 C.]
[129\5: The foll. are the expressions occurring in the speeches of
Isaeus which conclusively warrant what is said above. The childless
Menekles ~esko/pei ho/pôs mê\ e/soito a/pais, all' e/soito autô=|
ho/stis zô=nta gêrotrophê/soi kai\ teleutê/santa tha/psoi auto\n
kai\ eis to\n e/peita chro/non ta\ nomizo/mena autô=| poiê/soi~, 2,
10. To be cared for in old age, buried after death, and to have
permanent attention paid to one's soul is a single unified
conception, in which ritual burial at the hands of one's own
~e/kgonoi~ (thus securing the cult of the family) does not form the
least important part (cf. Pl., _Hipp. ma._ 291 DE: it is
~ka/lliston~ for a man--according to the popular view--~aphikome/nô|
es gê=ras tou\s hautou= gone/as teleutê/santas kalô=s peristei/lanti
hupo\ tô=n hautou= ekgo/nôn kalô=s kai\ megaloprepô=s taphê=nai~.
Medea says to her children in E., _Med._ 1032 ~ei=chon elpi/das
polla\s en humi=n gêroboskê/sein t' eme\ kai\ katthanou=san chersi\n
eu= peristelei=n, zêlôto\n anthrô/poisin~). That he may share in
this attention to the souls of the dead a man must leave behind him
a son; upon a son alone this will fall as a sacred duty. Hence a man
who has no son takes the chosen heir of his possessions into his own
_family_ by adoption. Inheritance and adoption invariably accompany
each other in such cases (and even in the first speech, where,
though nothing is actually said of adoption, it is certainly implied
throughout). The {206} _motive_ of adoption is said in the clearest
possible terms to be the desire on the part of the adopter for a
permanent care of his own soul at the hands of his adopted son: 2,
25, 46; 6, 51, 65; 7, 30; 9, 7, 36. There is consequently a close
connexion between ~ei=nai klêrono/mon kai\ epi\ ta\ mnê/mata
ie/nai, cheo/menoi kai\ enagiou=nta~ (6, 51). It is a mark of the
heir ~ta\ nomizo/mena poiei=n, enagi/zein, chei=sthai~ (6, 65); cf.
also D. 43, 65. Duties towards the soul of the dead consist in the
son and heir's provision for a solemn funeral, the erection of a
handsome grave-monument and in his offering of the ~tri/ta~ and
~e/nata kai\ ta=lla ta\ peri\ tê\n taphê/n~: 2, 36, 37; 4, 19; 9, 4.
After that he is responsible for the regular continuation of the
cult and of sacrifice to the dead, ~enagi/zesthai kath' he/kaston
_eniauto/n_~ (2, 46), and generally, ~kai\ eis to\n _e/peita_
chro/non ta\ nomizo/mena poiei=n~ (2, 10). Then, just as he has to
carry on for the dead man his family worships, his ~hiera\ patrô=|a~
(2, 46: e.g. for Zeus Ktesios: 8, 16); so also he must, as the dead
man once did, make regular offering to the ~_pro/gonoi_~ of the
house: 9, 7. In this way the family cult secures its own
continuity.--Everything in this reminds us in the strongest way of
what is done for the continuation of the cult of the dead, esp. by
adoption, in the country where ancestor-worship reaches its greatest
height--China. Desire to perpetuate the _family_ name, the strongest
motive with us in the adoption of male children, could not be so
strong in Greece when only individual names were usual. Even this,
however, occurs as a motive for the adoption of a son, ~hi/na mê\
anô/numos ho oi=kos autou= ge/nêtai~, 2, 36, 46; cf. Isocr. 19, 35
(and Philodem., _Mort._, p. 28, 9 ff. Mekl.). The "house" at any
rate is called after its ancestors (like those ~Bouseli/dai~ of whom
Dem. speaks), and if the house has no male heir this common name
will disappear. Apart from this, the adopted person will call
himself the son of his adoptive father, and will ensure the
preservation of the latter's name, in the well-known fashion, by
giving this name to the eldest (Dem. 39, 27) of his own sons. (A
similar perpetuation of a name is probably intended in E., _IT._
695-8.)]
[130\5: Appealing to ~phê=mai, pollai\ kai\ spho/dra palaiai/~,
Plato asserts, _Lg._ 927 A, ~hôs a/ra hai tô=n teleutêsa/ntôn
psuchai\ _du/namin_ e/chousi/ tina teleutê/sasai, hê=| tô=n kat'
anthrô/pous pragma/tôn epimelou=ntai~. Hence the ~epi/tropoi~ of
orphaned children ~prô=ton me\n tou\s a/nô theou\s phobei/sthôn . .
. ei=ta ta\s tô=n kekmêko/tôn psucha/s, hai=s estin en tê=| phu/sei
_tô=n hautô=n ekgo/nôn kê/desthai diaphero/ntôs_, kai\ timô=si/ te
autou\s eumenei=s kai\ atima/zousi dusmenei=s~. It is only the
circle of influence belonging to the ~psuchai/~ which is here
limited (and the circle of worship in consequence, not the potency
of that influence.]
[131\5: This is true at least of the Greeks, as ancient philosophy
was already aware: Arist., _Pol._ i, 2; Dicaearchus ap. St. Byz.
~pa/tra~ (who apparently thinks of the ~pa/tra~ as held together by
"endogamous" marriage). The whole development of Greek law and
politics--this much at least may be conceded to the analysis of
Fustel de Coulanges (_La Cité antique_)--points to the conclusion
that the division into the smallest groups goes back to the
beginning of Greek life. The Greeks were even then divided into
families and groups of kinsfolk, from the combination of which the
later Greek state grew up; they never (as happened elsewhere) lived
the community life of the tribe or the horde. And yet, can we
imagine the Greek gods without the tribal community that worshipped
them?]
[132\5: The idea of the _Lar familiaris_ can be translated into
Greek not inadequately by the words ~ho kat' oiki/an hê/rôs, hê/rôs
oikouro/s~, as is done by Dionys. Hal., and Plutarch in their
accounts of the story {207} of Ocrisia (D.H. 4, 2, 3; Plu. _Fort.
Rom._ 9, p. 323 C). But this was not an idea current among the
Greeks. The Latin _genius generis_ = _Lar familiaris_ (Laber. 54
Rib.) is most nearly approached by the remarkable expression ~hê/rôs
suggenei/as~, _CIA._ iii, 1460. Inside the house, at the family
hearth (in whose ~muchoi/~, "dwells" Hekate: E., _Med._ 397), the
Greeks worshipped--no longer the spirits of the ancestors--but the
~theoi\ patrô=|oi, ktê/sioi, mu/chioi, herkei=oi~. These were
compared with the Roman Penates (D.H. 1, 67, 3; cf. Hyg. ap. Macr.
3, 4, 13), but their relationship to the spirits of the house and of
the family is considerably less apparent than in the case of the
Penates. (It is simply imitation of Roman custom that makes the
dying Peregrinus call upon the ~dai/mones patrô=|oi kai\ mêtrô=|oi~:
Luc., _Peregr._ 36. ~Ste/phanos toi=s tou= patro\s hautou=
dai/mosin~, ins. from Lykia, _CIG._ 4232 = _BCH._ xv, 552, n. 26.
~toi=s dai/mosi tê=s apothanou/sês gunaiko/s~, Philo, _Leg. ad G._
65, ii, p. 555 M. More in Lob., _Agl._ 769 n.)]
[133\5: The ~_agatho\s dai/môn_~ of which Attic writers in
particular often speak has very indefinite features. Those who used
the word combined ideas--no longer fully intelligible--of a divine
being of fairly definite nature and shape with this name which in
itself was altogether too liable to generalization. Modern writers
have declared that it was originally a daimon of the fertility of
crops. But there is just as little ground for believing this as
there is for identifying it with Dionysos, as was done by the
physician Philonides in connexion with an absurd story which he has
invented on his own account (Ath. 675 B). There is much, however,
that points to the connexion of the ~agatho\s dai/môn~ with chthonic
powers. He appears as a snake (Gerhard, _Akad. Abh._ ii, 24) like
all ~chtho/nioi~. (On a snake on a talisman the words are written
~to\ o/noma tou= agathou= dai/monos~: _P. Mag. Par._ 2427 ff.)
~agathodai/mones~ was the name given to a special kind of
non-poisonous snake (described after Archigenes, in the Vatican
iologus brought to light by myself: _Rh. Mus._ 38, 278; cf. Photius,
~parei=ai o/pheis~, and again esp. s.v. ~o/pheis parei/as~, 364, 1).
Sacrifice was made to them in Alexandria on the 25th Tybi as ~toi=s
agathoi=s dai/mosi toi=s _pronooume/nois tô=n **oikiô=n_~: [Callisth.]
i, 32 (cod. A, or as "penates dei" as the words are translated by
Jul. Valer., p. 38, 29 ff. (Kuebl.). In this instance the ~ag. d.~
is evidently a good spirit who protects the house. Only with this in
mind can we understand how anyone could consecrate his house
~agathô=| dai/moni~, as Timoleon did at Syracuse (~_agathô=|
dai/moni~_, Plu., _Ips. Laud._, 11, p. 542 E; ~tê\n oiki/an
_hierô=|_ dai/moni kathie/rôsen~, Plu., _Timol._ 36, where ~hierô=|~
is evidently an ancient copyist's error). Cf. also the saying of
Xeniades, D.L. vi, 74. Such guardian spirits of the house are of
course familiar enough in our own popular superstition, but in their
case "the transition from souls of the dead to kindly house-spirits
or kobolds is still demonstrable" (Grimm, p. 913). At the household
meal the first few drops of unmixed wine belong by right to the
~agatho\s dai/môn~ (Hug, _Plat. Symp._^2, p. 23); then follows the
libation to Zeus Soter. But sometimes it was the "Heroes" and not
the ~ag. d.~ who preceded Zeus Soter (Sch. Pi., _I_ v, 10; Gerhard,
p. 39): they have taken the place of the ~ag. d.~, which itself
reveals the connexion between the ~ag. d.~ and these "souls".
Another fact pointing in the same direction is the worship of the
~agatho\s dai/môn~ in common with many other deities of chthonic
nature in the temple of Trophonios at Lebadeia (Paus. 9, 39, 5). In
this case it is mentioned by the side of Tyche and these two are
sometimes met with together in grave-inscriptions (e.g. _CIG._ 2465
f.) and Tyche herself appears with such chthonic deities as
Despoina, Plouton, and Persephone (_CIG._ {208} 1464 Sparta). In
epitaphic inscriptions ~daimo/nôn agathô=n~ sometimes occurs as
completely equivalent to _Dis Manibus_: e.g. ~Daimo/nôn agathô=n
Poti/ou~, _CIG._ 2700 b.c. (Mylasa); ~daimo/nôn agathô=n Arte/mônos
kai\ Ti/tou~, _Ath. Mitt._ '90, p. 110 (Mylasa); cf. the inscr. from
Mylasa in _Ath. Mitt._ '90, pp. 276-7 (nn. 23-5, 27). The singular
is rare: ~Dai/monos agathou= Ariste/ou ktl.~ _BCH._ '90, p. 626
(Karia). (~dai/mosin heautou= te kai\ Laititi/as tê=s gunaiko\s
autou=~ = Dis Manibus suis et Laetitiae uxoris in the bilingual ins.
from Beroea, _CIG._ 4452: cf. 4232 and 5827.) All these have come
under Roman influence, but it is worth noticing, all the same, that
the ~agatho\s d.~ was identified with the _Di Manes_; which means
that it was regarded as a daimon that had once been a disembodied
human soul.--The subject might be dealt with more fully than would
be in place here.]
[134\5: In Boeotia (and elsewhere, particularly in Thessaly) the
designation of the dead as ~hê/rôs~--always an indication of a
higher conception of its spirit nature--is especially frequent on
tombstones. More will be found on this subject below. The
inscriptions are for the most part of late date. But even in the
fifth century (at all events at the beginning of the fourth) the
custom of "heroizing" the ordinary dead was current. To this Plato
Com. (i, p. 622 K.) alludes in the "Menelaos", ~ti/ ouk apê/gxô,
hi/na Thê/bêsin hê/rôs ge/nê|~; (Zenob. vi, 17, etc. The
Paroemiogrr. connect this with the Theban custom of refusing the
honours of the dead to those who committed suicide. This is
certainly wrong and contradicts Pl.'s intention. Keil shows this
clearly, _Syll. Insc. Boeot._, p. 153).]
[135\5: Among the Epizephyrian Locrians ~odu/resthai ouk e/stin epi\
toi=s teleutê/sasin, all' epeida\n ekkomi/sôsin, euôchou=ntai~,
Heraclid., _Pol._ 30, 2. In Keos the men never wear any sign of
mourning, though women mourn for a year for a son who dies young;
ib. 9, 4 (see Welcker, _Kl. Schr._ ii, 502). The funeral regulation
of Iulis (_SIG._ 877) published in imitation of Athenian usage
implies rather a tendency to exaggerated display of mourning, at
least among the common people.]
[136\5: e.g. Is. 2, 47: ~boêthê/sate kai\ hêmi=n kai\ ekei/nô| _tô=|
en Ha/idou o/nti_~. Strictly speaking no one can ~boêthei=n~ the
departed in Hades. Few nations have entirely escaped such
contradictions between a cult of the dead in the house or at a grave
and the conception of the relegation of the soul to an inaccessible
other world. They arise from two simultaneously existing mental
attitudes (representing also different stages of culture) towards
these obscure subjects. The naive theology of the common people
reconciles such discrepancies by attributing two souls to men, one
of which goes down to Hades while the other remains beside the
still-animated body and receives the offerings of the family: e.g.
North American Indians: Müller, _Ges. d. Amer. Urrel._ 66; cf.
Tylor, i, 434. These two souls are in reality the creation of two
mutually incompatible modes of thought.]
[137\5:--idne testamento cavebit is qui nobis quasi oraculum
ediderit nihil post mortem ad nos pertinere? Cic., _Fin._ ii,
102.--Besides Epic., Theophrastos seems to have made some
arrangement for the regular celebration of his memory (by the
associates of the Peripatos?). Harp. 139, 4 ff.: ~mê/pote de\
hu/steron neno/mistai to\ epi\ timê=| tinas tô=n _apothano/ntôn_
sunie/nai kai\ _orgeô=nas_ homoi/ôs ônoma/sthai; hôs e/sti sunidei=n
ek tô=n Theophra/stou diathêkô=n~. The will of Thphr. preserved by
D.L. 5, 2, 14, is silent on the point.] {209}
III
[138\5: Oracle ap. D. 43, 66 (cf. 67) ~toi=s apophthime/nois en
hiknoume/na| hame/ra| (en tai=s kathêkou/sais hême/rais, § 67)
telei=n tou\s kathê/kontas katta\ hagême/na.--ta\ hagême/na = ta\
nomizo/mena~ "the customary things" (Buttmann, _Ausf. Gramm._, § 113
n. 7, 1, p. 84 Lob.).]
[139\5: Inquiry, at sacrifices to the dead, of an ~exêgêtê/s~: Is.
8, 39; of the ~exêgêtai/~ (who give detailed instructions and
advice: [D.] 47, 68 ff. Harp. ~exêgêtê/s; e/sti de\ kai\ ha\~ (perh.
~ho/te ta\~) ~pro\s tou\s katoichome/nous nomizo/mena exêgou=nto
toi=s deome/nois~. Tim. Lex. ~exêgêtai/; trei=s gi/nontai
putho/chrêstoi~ (there is no need to understand this other than
literally, i.e. that the college of the ~putho/chr. exêg.~ consisted
of three members: Schöll, _Hermes_, 22, 564), ~hoi=s me/lei
kathai/rein tou\s a/gei tini\ enischêthe/ntas~. The purification of
the ~enagei=s~ is closely connected with the cult of the souls. It
is true that prescriptions for such purification were to be found
also ~en toi=s tô=n Eupatridô=n~ (so Müller, _Aesch. Eum._ 163 A. 20
[152 n. E.T.]) ~patri/ois~: Ath. 9, 410 A, and it may be that the
college of the ~ex Eupatridô=n exêgêtai/~ may have also given
decisions in such cases. Still, that does not prevent the statement
of Timaeus in regard to the ~exêg. putho/chr.~ from being true.
(Expiations belong principally if not exclusively to the Apolline
cult.)]
[140\5: Plu., _Ser. Num._ 17, p. 650 C.D. expressly appeals for
confirmation of the belief in a continued existence of the soul
after the death of the body to utterances of the Delphic god:
~a/chri tou= polla\ toiau=ta prothespi/zesthai, ouch ho/sio/n esti
tê=s psuchê=s katagnô=nai tha/naton~.]
[141\5: That already in Homer the circle of the ~agchistei=s~ (in
the Athenian legal sense) was called upon to prosecute the blood-feud
is certainly probable in itself; it cannot, however, be proved from
examples occurring in Homer. Leist's statements in _Graecoital.
Rechtsges._, p. 42, are not quite exact. The facts are: a father is
called upon to avenge his son, and a son his father, and a brother
to avenge his brother (~g~ 307; ~I~ 632 f.; ~ô~ 434); once the
avengers are the ~kasi/gnêtoi/ te e/tai te~ of the murdered man, ~o~
273. ~e/tai~ has a very wide sense and is not even confined to
kinship; at any rate it is not simply "cousins" (~e/tai kai\
anepsioi/~ side by side. ~I~ 464).--In Attic law, too, in certain
cases the duty of prosecuting the murderer extended beyond the
limits of the ~anepsiadoi=~ to more distant relatives and even to
the ~phra/tores~ of the murdered man (Law ap. D. 43, 57).]
[142\5: Flight, indeed ~aeiphugi/a~, on account of ~pho/nos
akou/sios~: ~Ps~ 85 ff. (The fugitive becomes the ~thera/pôn~ of the
person who receives him into his house in the foreign land: l. 90;
cf. ~O~ 431 f.; this must have been the rule.)--Flight on account of
~pho/nos hekou/sious (lochêsa/menos~ 268) ~n~ 259 ff. And so
frequently.]
[143\5: ~I~ 632 ff. ~kai\ me/n ti/s te kasignê/toio phonê=os
**poinê\n ê\ hou= paido\s hede/xato tethnêô=tos; kai/ rh' ho me\n en
dê/mô| me/nei autou= po/ll' apoti/sas tou= de/ t' erêtu/etai kradi/ê
kai\ thumo\s agê/nôr poinê\n dexame/nou~. Here it is very plainly
represented that all that is required is to appease "the heart and
spirit" of the receiver of the ~poinê/~: the murdered man is not
considered.]
[144\5: It is very natural to suppose that the ~poinê/~ (as K. O.
Müller suggests in _Aesch. Eum._ 145 [122 E T.]) may have arisen out
of the substitution of a vicarious sacrifice instead of that of the
murderer himself, who should strictly have been offered to the dead
man. In this way primitive human sacrifice has in many cases been
replaced by sacrifice of animals. In that case the ~poinê/~ too must
have originally been offered to the murdered man: in Homeric times
{210} only the satisfaction of the living avenger was thought
of.--In any case it is a mistake to look upon the permission to buy
off the blood-feud as a mitigation of primitive severity in the
taking of vengeance due to the intervention of the State. The State
in this case mitigated nothing since it took no interest at all (in
Homer) in the treatment of murder cases. Of course, legal
proceedings can be taken to decide whether a stipulated ~poinê/~ has
been paid or not (~S~ 497 ff.), as in the case of any other
~sumbo/laion~. But the prosecution of the murderer in all its
departments is left entirely in the hands of the family of the
murdered man.]
[145\5: We have very few details on this point. In Sparta ~hoi
ge/rontes (dika/zousi) ta\s phonika\s (di/kas)~, Arist., _Pol._ 3, 1,
p. 1275b 10 (and in Corinth, too, D.S. 16, 65, 6 ff.). Involuntary
homicide is punished by exile and (in this being more severe than at
Athens) perpetual exile as it appears. The Spartiate Drakontios
serving in the army of the Ten Thousand ~e/phuge _pai=s_ ô\n
oi/kothen pai=da a/kôn **katakanô\n~ (like Patroklos in fact, ~Ps~
87), ~xuê/lê| pata/xas~, Xen., _An._ 4, 8, 25. If his banishment had
been only temporary the period must have expired long before.--In
Kyme there are vestiges of _legal_ prosecution of murder (with
witnesses): Arist., _Pol._ 1269a, 1 ff.--In Chalkis ~epi\ Thra/kê|~
the laws of Androdamas of Rhegion were in force ~peri/ te ta\
_phonika\_ kai\ ta\s epiklê/rous~, Arist., _Pol._ 2, 8, p. 1274b 23
ff.--In Lokri were used the laws of Zaleukos in combination with
Cretan, Spartan and Areopagite institutions; these last undoubtedly
dealing with homicide, which must therefore have been regulated
constitutionally. (Str. vi, 260, following Eph.)]
[146\5: The limits of those qualified to inherit extends in Athenian
law ~me/chri **anepsiadô=n pai/dôn~ (Law ap. D. 43, 51; cf. § 27) as
did the duty of avenging murder ~mechri\ anepsiadô=n~: D. 47, 72
(~ento\s anepsio/têtos~, which must mean the same thing, Law ap. D.
43, 57). The circle of persons thus united in the right of
inheritance and the duty of taking vengeance for murder constituted
the ~_agchistei/a_~, the body of kinsfolk tracing their descent (in
the male line only) from the same man, the father, grandfather, or
great-grandfather of them all. This is the limit to which the
~gonei=s~ are traced: Is. 8, 32; cf. above, note 123. Many nations
of the earth are familiar with a similar limitation of the narrower
body of kinsfolk composing a "house": as to the underlying reasons
for the practice many conjectures are made by H. E. Seebohm, _On the
Structure of Greek Tribal Society_ (1895).]
[147\5: As to the restless wandering of the ~biaiotha/natoi~ more
details will be given below [Append. vii]. In the meantime it will
be enough to refer to A., _Eum._ 98, where the still unavenged soul
of the murdered Klytaimnestra complains ~aischrô=s _alô=mai_~. A
later authority uses words that correspond well with ancient belief:
Porph., _Abst._ ii, 47, ~tô=n anthrô/pôn hai tô=n bi/a|
apothano/ntôn (psuchai\) kate/chontai pro\s tô=| sô/mati~, like the
souls of the ~a/taphoi~.]
[148\5: In Homeric times the injured dead becomes a ~_theô=n_
mê/nima~ to the evil-doer (~Ch~ 358, ~l~ 73). Later times believed
that the soul of the dead man himself angrily pursued the murderer
with its terrors till it drove him beyond its own boundaries: ~ho
thanatôthei\s thumou=tai tô=| dra/santi ktl.~, Pl., _Lg._ 865 DE,
appealing to ~palaio/n tina tô=n archai/ôn mu/thôn lego/menon~; cf.
X., _Cyr._ 8, 7, 18: A., _Cho._ 39 ff., 323 ff. If the next-of-kin
whose duty it is to avenge the death of his relative shirks the duty
incumbent on him the anger of the dead man is turned upon the
latter: Pl., _Leg._ 9, 866 B--~tou= patho/ntos prostrepome/nou tê\n
pa/thên~. The indignant soul becomes _~prostro/paios~_.
~prostro/paios~ probably {211} applies only in a derivative sense to
a ~dai/môn~ who takes the part of the dead man (esp. ~Zeu\s
prostro/paios~); it is strictly speaking an epithet of the soul
itself in its longing for vengeance. Thus in Antiphon _Tetral._ 1,
~g~ 10, ~hêmi=n me\n prostro/paios ho apothanô\n ouk e/stai~. 3, ~d~
10, ~ho apoktei/nas~ (or rather ~ho tethnêkô\s~) ~toi=s aiti/ois
prostro/paios e/stai~. So, too, A., _Cho._ 287, ~ek prostropai/ôn en
ge/nei peptôko/tôn~. _EM._ 42, 7, ~Êrigo/nên, anartê/sasan heautê/n,
prostro/paion toi=s Athênai/ois gene/sthai~. We can, however, see
particularly well from this case how easily the change came about
from a soul in a special condition to a similar _daimonic_ being
which takes the place of the soul of the dead. The same Antiphon
speaks also of ~hoi tô=n apothano/ntôn prostro/paioi, ho
prostro/paios tou= apothano/ntos~ as something distinct from the
dead man himself: _Tetr._ 3, ~a~ 4; 3, ~b~ 8; cf. ~ho Murti/lou
prostro/paios~, Paus. 2, 18, 2, etc.; cf. Zacher, _Dissert. phil.
Halens._, iii, p. 228. The injured dead himself becomes ~_arai=os_~,
Soph., _Tr._ 1201 ff. (cf. _fr._ 367; E., _IT._ 778; _Med._ 608);
later his place is taken by ~dai/mones arai=oi~. What terrible evils
the unavenged soul can bring upon the person who is called upon to
take vengeance are painted for us by Aesch. in _Cho._ 278 ff. (or
else as some think an ancient interpolator of A.). Sickness and
trouble might be sent over several generations by such ~palaia\
mêni/mata~ of the dead: Pl., _Phdr._ 244 D (see Lobeck's account,
_Agl._ 636 f.). True to ancient beliefs an Orphic hymn prays to the
Titanes ~_mê=nin_ chalepê\n apope/mpein, ei/ tis _apo\ chthoni/ôn
progo/nôn_ oi/koisi pela/sthê~, _H._ 37, 7 f.; cf. 39, 9-10.]
[149\5: ~chreô/n estin _hupexelthei=n_ tô=| _patho/nti to\n
dra/santa_ ta\s hô/ras pa/sas tou= eniautou=, kai\ erêmô=sai pa/ntas
tou\s oikei/ous to/pous xumpa/sês tê=s patri/dos~, Pl., _Lg._ ix,
865 E. The law says in the case of the criminal convicted of murder
~ei/rgein me\n tê=s tou= patho/ntos patri/dos, ktei/nein de\ ouch
ho/sion hapantachou=~, D. 23, 38.]
[150\5: When the victim was a citizen, and also in wilful murder of
a non-citizen. See Mei. and Sch., _Att. Proc._^2, p. 379, n.
520.--When the citizenship of a city rested upon conquest the lives
of the subjects belonging to the older subject population were of
less account. In Tralles (Karia) the murder of one of the Leleges by
an (Argive) full citizen might be bought off by payment of a bushel
of peas (a purely symbolical ~poinê/~) to the relations of the
victim: Plu., _Q.Gr._ 46, p. 302 B.]
[151\5: On the expiry of the legally appointed period of banishment
the relations of the dead man do not seem to have been allowed to
refuse ~ai/desis~. See Philippi, _Areop. u. Epheten_, 115 f.]
[152\5: Law ap. D. 43, 57.]
[153\5: D. 37, 59. See Philippi, op. cit., p. 144 ff. Cf. E.,
_Hipp._ 1435 f., 1442 f., 1448 f.]
[154\5: Such prohibition against taking a ~poinê/~ for murder is
made by the Law ap. D. 23, 28: ~tou\s d' andropho/nous exei=nai
apoktei/nein . . . lumai/nesthai de\ mê/, _mêde\ apoina=n_~ (cf. §
33 ~to\ de\ mêd' apoina=n; mê\ chrê/mata pra/ttein, ta\ ga\r
chrê/mata a/poina ôno/mazon hoi palaioi/~). In spite of this Meier
and others unjustifiably conclude that murder could be indemnified
by payment of money, from the illegal practice mentioned in [D.] 58,
29: this speaks rather for the contrary. They have more appearance
of justification when they appeal to Harp. (Phot. Suid., _E.M._ 784,
26; _AB._ 313, 5 ff.), s.v. ~hupopho/nia; ta\ epi\ pho/nô| dido/mena
chrê/mata toi=s oikei/ois tou= phoneuthe/ntos, hi/na mê\
epexi/ôsin~. On the strength of this Hermann, _Gr. Staatsalt._^5
104, 6, says, "even intentional murder could be absolutely
indemnified." Nothing is actually said of ~pho/nos hekou/sios~ here
nor do we anywhere learn that the payment of ~hupopho/nia~ {212} on
the occasion of a murder was ever a formally _legalized_ proceeding.
It remains possible, and even in the circumstances more probable,
that Dinarch. and Thphr. in the passages on ~hupopho/nia~ quoted by
Harp. referred to the practice as one _forbidden_ by law, though it
might be, on occasion, an actual fact. If we had only the gloss of
Suidas--~a/poina; lu/tra, ha\ di/dôsi/ tis hupe\r pho/nou ê\
sô/matos. hou/tôs So/lôn en no/mois~--we might have concluded that
payment of such blood-money was allowed in Athens and mentioned in
Solon's laws as allowable. This would be quite as justifiable as to
argue as above from Harp. s. ~hupopho/nia~. We know, in fact, that
the law referred to the ~a/poina~ and ~apoina=n~ as _forbidden_
things, from the passages already quoted from Dem. (23, 28-33). From
these the gloss was itself probably derived.]
[155\5: We cannot, however, believe on the poor authority of Sch.
Dem, p. 607, 16 ff., that the ~hieropoioi\ tai=s Semnai=s theai=s~
were selected out of the whole Athenian citizen body by the
Areiopagos. ("Three" were chosen out of all the Athenians: D. 21,
115; at other times "ten": Dinarch. ap. _EM._ 469, 12 ff.; an
indefinite number: Phot. ~hieropoioi/~.) According to all analogies
we should rather expect this selection to have been made by the
popular Assembly.]
[156\5: ~hai diômosi/ai kai\ ta\ to/mia~, Antiphon, _Herod._ 88. In
more detail D. 23, 67-8. Those who had to take an oath swore by the
~Semnai\ theai/~ and other gods: Dinarch., _adv. Demosth._ 47. Both
sides had to swear to the justice of their case in respect of the
material facts in dispute (Philippi, _Areop._, pp. 87-95). Such a
compulsory oath taken by both parties could not of course in any
circumstances serve as proof: one side at least must be perjured.
Nor can the Athenians themselves have failed to see this. It is
surely doing them an injustice not to see the simple explanation of
this strange sort of preliminary oath-taking and to dismiss the
matter with a reference to the Athenians as "not a legally-minded
people" (as Philippi does, p. 88). It is much more natural to
suppose that this double oath, taken under circumstances of peculiar
solemnity, was not regarded as a juridical matter at all, but had a
purely religious sense (as it had in the quite similar cases
mentioned by Meiners, _Allg. Gesch. d. Relig._ ii, 296 f.). The
oath-taker invokes a dreadful curse upon himself if he breaks his
oath and devotes ~hauto\n kai\ ge/nos kai\ oiki/an tê\n hautou=~
(Antiphon, _Herod._ 11) to the Curse-Goddesses, the ~Arai/~ or the
~Erinu/es hai/ th' hupo\ gai=an anthrô/pous ti/nuntai, ho/tis k'
epi/orkon omo/ssê|~ (~T~ 259 f.)--and to the Gods who are to punish
his children and his whole kith and kin on earth (Lycurg., _Leocr._
79). If the court discovers the perjured party the punishment due to
his action overtakes him (or if he is the plaintiff, he fails in his
purpose) and at the same time the justice of heaven punishes him for
his broken oath (cf. D. 23, 68). But the court may make a mistake
and not find out the perjurer; in which case the perjurer is still
punished for he becomes a victim of the gods to whom he has devoted
himself--who do not err. Thus the double oath is an _addition_ to
the judicial inquiry, and heavenly punishment stands side by side
with that of men. The two may coincide, but this need not be so, and
in this way the guilty is punished whatever happens. (How familiar
such ideas were in antiquity we see from expressions used by
orators: Isoc. 18, 3; D. 19, 239-40; Lycurg., _Leocr._ 79.) The
oath, being an appeal to a higher court, supplemented human justice,
or rather the legal processes of men supplemented the oath-taking,
for in this partnership the appeal to an oath must have been the
older member.] {213}
[157\5: Poll. 8, 117, ~kath' he/kaston de\ mê=na triô=n hêmerô=n
edi/kazon~ (the judges on the Areiopagos) ~ephexê=s, teta/rtê|
phthi/nontos, tri/tê|, deute/ra|~.]
[158\5: ~hoi Areopagi=tai trei=s pou tou= mê=nos hême/ras ta\s
phonika\s di/kas edi/kazon, heka/stê| tô=n theô=n mi/an hême/ran
apone/montes~, Sch. Aeschin. 1, 188, p. 282 Sch. This certainly
implies that the limitation of the number of the Erinyes to three
(and not two for example--which first appears in Eurip., but was
certainly not his own invention--was officially current in the
worship of the city.--Since these three days were sacred to the
Erinyes, as goddesses of Hades, they counted as ~apophra/des
hême/rai~: _EM._ 131, 16 f.; _Et. Gud._ 70, 5 (the thirtieth day of
the month is for that reason ~phau/lê pa=sin e/rgois~ acc. to
"Orpheus" _fr._ 28 Ab.).]
[159\5: Paus. 1, 28, 6.]
[160\5: The Erinyes are the accusers of Orestes not only in
Aeschylus (and thence in Eurip. too, _IT._ 940 ff.), but also in the
varying accounts derived from different sources, in which the twelve
gods served as judges ap. D. 23, 66 (cf. 74, and Dinarch., _adv.
Dem._ 87).]
[161\5: The Erinyes are said ~apo\ zô=ntos rhophei=n eruthro\n ek
mele/ôn pe/lanon~, A., _Eum._ 264 f.; cf. 183 f.; 302; 305. In this
they closely resemble the "vampires" which we hear of especially in
Slav popular mythology, and the Tii of the Polynesians, etc. These,
however, are the _souls of the dead_ returned from the grave and
sucking men's blood.]
[162\5: The Erinyes say to Orestes: ~emoi\ traphei/s te kai\
kathierôme/nos kai\ zô=n me dai/seis oude\ pro\s bômô=| sphagei/s~,
A., _Eum._ 304 f. The matricide is divis parentum (i.e. their Manes)
sacer, their sacrificial victim (~_thu=ma_ katachthoni/ou Dio/s~
D.H. 2, 10, 3), in the older belief of Greece, too.]
[163\5: See _Rh. Mus._ 50, 6 ff.]
[164\5: The fact that after receiving the ~ai/desis~ of the dead
man's relatives the agent of a ~pho/nos akou/sios~ was still
required to offer the expiatory sacrifice as well as undergo
purification (~hilasmo/s~ and ~katharmo/s~) is alluded to by Dem.
23, 72-3, in the double expression ~thu=sai kai\ katharthê=nai,
hosiou=n kai\ kathai/resthai~ (cf. Müller, _Aesch. Eum._, p. 144
[122, n. 2, E.T.]).]
[165\5: See Philippi, _Areop. u. Eph._ 62.]
[166\5: In the Iliad and the Odyssey there is a total absence not
only of all reference to purification from blood-guiltiness but of
the necessary conditions for it. The murderer goes freely among men
without there being any fear of others suffering from a ~mi/asma~
attaching to him. Cf. the case especially of Theoklymenos, ~o~
271-8. Lobeck rightly emphasizes this, _Agl._ 301. K. O. Müller's
attempts to prove in spite of everything that purifications from the
stain of murder were a Homeric custom, are failures. See Nägelsbach,
_Hom. Theol._^2, p. 293.--The oldest examples of purifications from
murder in the literature are (Lobeck 309): purification of Achilles
from the blood of Thersites in the ~Aithiopi/s~, p. 33 Kink.;
refusal of Neleus to purify Herakles from the murder of Iphitos:
Hesiod ~en katalo/gois~, Sch., Il. ~B~ 336.--Mythical exx. of such
purifications in later accounts: Lob., _Agl._ 968-9.]
[167\5: E g. offering of cakes, sacrifice of drink-offerings without
wine, burning of the materials of sacrifice; cf. the description of
~hilasmo/s~ (in this place clearly distinguished from ~katharmo/s~)
in A.R. iv, 712 ff. Similar account (offerings without wine, etc.)
of the ~hilasmo/s~ (which is, however, improperly called
~katharmo/s~, l. 466) of the Eumenides at Kolonos which the chorus
recommends to Oedipus, S., _O.C._ 469 ff. No one might eat of the
expiatory sacrifice: Porph., _Abst._ 2, 44. It is burnt completely:
Stengel, _Jahrb. f. Phil._ 1883, p. 369 ff.--The {214} clash of
bronze was used ~pro\s pa=san aphosi/ôsin kai\ apoka/tharsin~:
Apollod. _fr._ 36 (and in offerings to Hekate, Theoc. ii, 36; as
protection against ghosts, Luc., _Philops._ 15; Sch. Theoc. ii, 36;
Tz., _Lyc._ 77. Clash of bronze in this apotropaic sense occurs,
too, in the dance of the Kouretes, etc.; see below). The ritual of
expiation was affected in many ways by admixture of foreign
superstitions from Phrygia and Lydia. Its chief source is to be
found in the _Cretan_ worship of the (chthonic) Zeus. Thence it
seems to have spread all over Greece assisted by the Apolline oracle
of Delphi. This is why the ram, the peculiar victim of ~Zeu\s
chtho/nios~, is the principal victim in expiatory sacrifices, its
fleece, the ~Dio\s kô/dion~, receiving the various materials of
expiation, etc.]
[168\5: On the chthonic character of the deities of expiation see in
gen. K. O. Müller, _Aesch. Eum._, p. 139 ff. (112 ff.). Chief among
them is ~Zeu\s meili/chios~ (a euphemistic title; cf. above, n. 5),
who is unmistakably a ~chtho/nios~. Hence, like all ~chtho/nioi~ he
is represented as a snake on the votive tablet to ~Z. meil.~
discovered in the Peiraeus (certainly the Athenian god and not a
foreign deity identified with this god whom all Athenians knew well
from the feast of the Diasia): _BCH._ 7, 507 ff.; _CIA._ ii, 1578 ff.
On a votive insc. from Lykia we have, side by side with the chthonic
Hekate, ~Dii\ Meilichi/ô| kai\ Enodi/a|~, _BCH._ 13, 392. Other
~theoi\ meili/chioi~ in Lokris were worshipped with _nocturnal_
sacrifice (as regularly in the case of underworld deities): Paus.
10, 38, 8. The ~dai/mones meili/chioi~ as ~chtho/nioi~ are
contrasted with the ~maka/ressin ourani/ois~ in the oracle verses
ap. Phlegon, _Macr._ iv, p. 93, 5 Kel.: deis milicheis _Acta Lud.
Saecul._ Tab. A l. 11 [= _CIL._ vi, 32, 323; see Mommsen, _Ges.
Schr._ viii, 570].--Then come the ~apotro/paioi~: their nature can
be guessed from the fact that they were worshipped together with the
dead and Hekate on the thirtieth day of the month (see above, n.
88). After a bad dream offerings were made to the ~apotro/paioi~, to
Ge and the Heroes: Hp., _Diaet._ 4, 8, vi, p. 652 L. ~Zeu\s
apotro/paios~ must have been a ~chtho/nios~, but we have side by
side with him an ~Athêna= apotropai/a~ (and an Apollo ~apotr.~ too):
ins. from Erythrai, _SIG._ 600, 69; 115: the provinces of
~Olu/mpioi~ and ~chtho/nioi~ were not always kept absolutely
distinct.--An ancient and hereditary service of the propitiation
deities belonged to the Attic family of the Phytalids who had once
purified and offered expiatory sacrifice for Theseus after the
murder of Skiron and others (~hagni/santes kai\ meili/chia
thu/santes~): Plu., _Thes._ 12. The gods to whom this family offered
sacrifice were Demeter and Zeus Meilichios: Paus. 1, 37, 2-4.--Isoc.
5, 117, makes a clear distinction between the ~theoi\ Olu/mpioi~ and
the gods to whom only an apotropaic cult, ~apopompa/s~, was offered;
these being the gods of expiation (cf. ~apodiopompei=sthai~ in
propitiatory sacrifices; ~apopompai=oi theoi/~: Apollod. ap. Harp.
~apopompa/s~. Cf. also ~apopompê/~ of evil daimones in contrast to
the ~epipompê/~ of the same: Anon. _Vir. Herb._ xxii, 165. See
Hemsterhuys, _Lucian_ ii, p. 255 Bip.; Lob., _Agl._ 984, ii).]
[169\5: e.g. in the description of the ~hilasmo/s~ of Medea by Kirke
in A.R. iv, 712 ff.]
[170\5: K. O. Müller, _Dorians_, i, 328, 336; cf. the same ancient
custom of flight for nine years and penance for the slaying of a man
in the legend and cult of Zeus Lykaios; cf. H. D. Müller, _Myth. d.
gr. St._ ii, 105. See below.]
[171\5: _Cho._ 1055-60. _Eum._ 237 ff., 281 ff., 445 ff., 470.]
[172\5: The Delphinion, the court for trying ~pho/nos di/kaios~, and
the ancient dwelling of Aegeus (Plu., _Thes._ 12), was at the same
time {215} (and perhaps originally) an expiation site. Expiatory
sacrifice was there made for Theseus after his fights with the
Pallantidai and the highway robbers (~aphosiou/menos to\ a/gos~,
Poll. viii, 119).]
[173\5: Plu., _Ser. Num._ 17, p. 560 EF. Note the expressions:
~_hila/sasthai_ tê\n tou= Archilo/chou psuchê/n, _hilasasthai_ tê\n
Pausani/ou psuchê/n~. Suid. ~Archi/lochos~, from Aelian:
~_meili/xasthai_ tê\n tou= Telesiklei/ou paido\s psuchê/n, kai\
_praü=nai_ choai=s~.]
[174\5: The three ~exêgêtai\ putho/chrêstoi, hoi=s me/lei
kathai=rein tou\s a/gei tini\ enischêthe/ntas~, Tim. **_Lex._ p. 109
R.]
[175\5: Pl., _Lg._ 865 B: the agent in a ~pho/nos akou/sios~ (of a
special kind) ~katharthei\s kata\ to\n ek Delphô=n komisthe/nta
peri\ tou/tôn no/mon e/stô katharo/s~.]
[176\5: I set down here the expressions occurring in the speeches
and the (at any rate contemporary [see Appendix iv]) Tetralogies of
Antiphon, which throw light on the religious ideas lying behind the
procedure in trials for murder. In the prosecution of the murderer
the following are concerned: ~ho tethneô/s, hoi no/moi~, and ~theoi\
hoi ka/tô~, _Or._ 1, 31. The vigorous prosecution of the case on the
part of the relations of the dead is ~_boêthei=n_ tô=| tethneô=ti~:
1, 31. _Tetr._ 1 ~b~, 13. The condemnation of the murderer is
~timôri/a tô=| adikêthe/nti~, his personal revenge: 5, 88 = 6, 6.
The accusing relatives come before the court as representatives of
the dead man, ~_anti\_ tou= patho/ntos episkê/ptomen humi=n~, as
they say to the judges, _Tetr._ 3 ~g~, 7. The duty of accusing as
well as the ~ase/bêma~ of the deed of bloodshed rests upon them
until satisfaction is made for it: _Tetr._ 1 ~a~, 3. But the
~mi/asma~ of the deed attaches to the whole city in which the
murderer lives. All who sit at table with him, or live under the
same roof, even the temples he walks in, are polluted by his mere
presence: hence come ~aphori/ai~ and ~dustuchei=s pra/xeis~ on the
city. It is to the greatest interest of the judges to avert this
pollution by giving a propitiatory judgment: _Tetr._ 1 ~a~, 10;
_Or._ 5, 11, 82; _Tetr._ 1 ~a~, 3; 1 ~g~, 9, 11; 3 ~g~, 6, 7. Above
all it is necessary to find the real criminal and to punish him. If
the relatives of the dead prosecute some one other than the real
doer of the deed, it is they, and not the judges (on account of
their wrong decision), who will have to bear the wrath of the dead
man and of the avenging spirits: _Tetr._ 1 ~a~, 3; 3 ~a~, 4; 3 ~d~,
10; for in this case the murdered man is deprived of his ~timôri/a~:
3 ~a~, 4. But perjured witnesses and unjust judges are liable to a
~mi/asma~, too, which they then introduce into their own houses:
_Tetr._ 3 ~a~, 3; or at least, if they give a false condemnation
(but not a false acquittal) of the accused, they incur the ~mê/nima
tô=n alitêri/ôn~ acc. to _Tetr._ 3 ~b~, 8--i.e. that of the falsely
condemned person (whereas the murdered man still continues angry
with his own relatives). If they _knowingly_ acquit the murderer
contrary to justice, the murdered man becomes ~enthu/mios~ to the
judges and no longer to his relatives: _Tetr._ 1 ~g~, 10.--The
source of the resentment is said to be the dead man himself:
~prostro/paios ho apothanô/n~, _Tetr._ 1 ~g~, 10; cf. 3 ~d~, 10;
where he is parallel with ~to\ mê/nima tô=n _alitêri/ôn_~. The
murdered man leaves behind him ~tê\n tô=n alitêri/ôn dusme/neian~
(and _this_ is what the ~mi/asma~ really is--not as some modern
writers have imagined, any sort of "moral" pollution--as is clearly
stated in this passage: ~tê\n tô=n alit. dusme/neian, ê\n . . .
mi/asma . . . eisa/gontai~): _Tetr._ 3 ~a~, 3; cf. Again 3 ~b~, 8; 3
~g~, 7. In this case the avenging spirits substitute themselves for
the soul of the dead man (just as in the case where a ~prostro/paios
tou= apothano/ntos~ is spoken of: cf. above, n. 148). The
~prostro/paioi tô=n apothana/ntôn~ become themselves ~deinoi\
alitê/rioi~ of the dilatory relatives: {216} _Tetr._ 3 ~a~, 4. There
is no essential distinction between the two (cf. Poll. 5, 131).
Elsewhere we hear of ~to\ prostro/paion~ as the special attribute or
feeling of the murdered man himself: _Tetr._ 2 ~d~, 9. Thus also we
have the alternatives ~enthu/mios ho apothanô/n~ (1 ~g~, 10) and
~to\ _enthu/mion_~ (2 ~a~, 2; 2 ~d~, 9). In this connexion it is
clear that ~enthu/mion~ (as the fixed and conventional expression
for these superstitions) means the indignant memory, the longing for
revenge of the murdered man (--~enthu/mion e/stô Da/matros kai\
Kou/ras~, _GDI._ 3541, 8). The proper understanding of this word
will help us to see what is meant by the expression ~_oxuthu/mia_~
used of the meal offered to the dead and Hekate, and the almost
identical purificatory offerings, that after the religious cleansing
of a house were thrown out at the cross-roads (Harp. s.v. Phot. s.v.
Art. 1, 2, 3; _AB._ 287, 24, 288, 7; _EM._ 626, 44 ff.). They are
intended to appease the easily awakened anger of the souls (and of
their patroness Hekate), their ~oxu/thumon~, a stronger version of
~enthu/mion~, by apotropaic sacrifice.]
[177\5: See Appendix ii (~maschalismo/s~).]
[178\5: Xen., _Cyr._ 8, 7, 17 ff.: ~ou ga\r dê/pou tou=to/ ge
saphô=s dokei=te eide/nai hôs oude/n eimi egô\ e/ti, epeida\n tou=
anthrôpi/nou bi/ou teleutê/sô; oude\ ga\r nu=n toi tê/n g' emê\n
psuchê\n heôra=te . . . ta\s de\ tô=n a/dika patho/ntôn psucha\s
ou/pô katenoê/sate, hoi/ous me\n pho/bous toi=s miaipho/nois
emba/llousin, hoi/ous de\ palamnai/ous~ (which means first the
criminal and then, as here, the punishing spirit that avenges the
criminal deed, exactly like ~prostro/paios, alitê/rios, ala/stôr,
mia/stôr~: see Zacher, _Dissert. phil. Halens._ iii, 232 ff.) ~toi=s
anosi/ois epipe/mpousi? toi=s de\ phthime/nois ta\s tima\s
diame/nein e/ti a\n dokei=te, ei mêdeno\s autô=n hai psuchai\
ku/riai ê=san? ou/toi e/gôge, ô= pai=des, oude\ **tou=to pô/pote
epei/sthên, hôs hê psuchê/, he/ôs me\n a\n en thnêtô=| sô/mati ê=|,
zê=|, ho/tan de\ tou/tou apallagê=|, te/thnêken~. Then follow other
popular arguments for the belief in the continued existence of the
soul after its separation from the body.]
{{217}}
CHAPTER VI
THE ELEUSINIAN MYSTERIES
The cult of the dead, thus pursued in unhampered freedom, preserved
and encouraged certain ideas of the life of the soul after death; of
the soul as a conscious and powerful being which though separated
from the body has not been parted for ever from the scene of its
earthly existence. To the Greeks such ideas had become strange and
unfamiliar--strange, at least, to the Ionian Greeks of the Homeric
age.
But from such a cult no dogmatic or distinctly outlined picture of
the life of the departed soul could have been deduced, nor ever was
deduced. Everything in this connexion dealt with the relation of the
dead to the living. Families by means of sacrifice and religious
acts sought to nourish the souls of their own dead. But the cult was
in itself chiefly precautionary (apotropaic) in character, and as a
consequence men preferred rather to avoid investigation into the
nature and condition of the dead themselves, except in so far as
they came into the life of the living.
This is the point at which the cult of the souls and belief in the
existence of souls stopped short among many of the so-called
"savage" peoples who have no history. Nor can there be much doubt
that it had reached this stage of development in Greece, too, before
the time of Homer; though temporarily overshadowed, it continued to
exist for it was rooted firmly in the united life of the family and
its traditional practices.
Such traditional beliefs, however, left the nature of the
disembodied soul vague and undefined; they viewed it purely from the
standpoint of the living and almost entirely in its relations with
this world; and resting on such foundations it is not very
surprising if they yielded unresistingly and sank into
insignificance once the feeling of the influence exercised by the
dead upon the living began to weaken, or if anything happened to
cause the decline or discredit of the cult of the dead. When the
living withdrew their support and reverence from the departed soul
the latter ceased to present any clear picture to the minds of
men--it became a mere evanescent shadow--unsubstantial--little more
than nothing. This is what {218} happened in the period of Ionic
culture, in which Homer lived.
The poetry of that period, however, had of its own accord given rise
to aspirations after a fuller and more definite picture of the long,
unbounded future in the life to come. These aspirations had been
given shape in the pictures of the _translation_ of individual
mortals to Elysium and the Islands of the Blest.
Such things, however, were, and continued to be, matters of poetry,
not of religious faith. Even the poetical fancy dealt with the
marvellous past and with exceptional heroes chosen out long ago by
the special favour of the gods; such favour was not extended to
include the living generations of men. The desire, once it was
awakened, for a more hopeful prospect of the life to come beyond the
grave and for something more than the mere negative existence of the
ancestors worshipped in family cults, must look to other sources for
its satisfaction. Such desires began to be felt by many, but their
originating source and the secret forces that set them going must
remain for us hidden behind the obscurity that lies over the most
important period of Greek development, the eighth and seventh
centuries. Nor does it help us very much when historians try to stop
the gaps of our knowledge with platitudes or the barren offspring of
their own imagination. The existence of such desires and their
growing strength is shown by the fact that they were able to create
for themselves a means of satisfaction (a peculiarly limited
satisfaction it is true) in a direction that immediately occurs to
everyone as soon as the subject of future blessedness or belief in
immortality among the Greeks is mentioned--the Eleusinian Mysteries.
§ 2
Wherever the cult of the gods of the earth and the lower world, and
particularly of Demeter and her daughter, was at its height it was
not difficult for hopes of a better fate in the kingdom of souls
below the earth, where those deities ruled, to become attached to
participation in their cult. The tendency to connect closely such
hopes with the worship of these gods may have existed in many
different localities. In Eleusis alone, however (and in the cults,
mostly of later origin, affiliated to Eleusis), we see this
connexion carried out as a fully organized institution. We can
follow at least in general outline the gradual advance of the
Eleusinian religious organization. The Homeric _Hymn to Demeter_
tells us the origin {219} of the cult according to the national
legends of Eleusis. In the country of the Eleusinians the divine
daughter of Demeter, after being carried down to the lower world by
Aïdoneus, came up once more to the light of day, and was restored to
her mother. Before ascending to Olympos and the company of the other
immortals, in accordance with the wish of Zeus, Demeter fulfilled
her promise, and when the Eleusinians had erected a temple to her
outside the city, over the spring Kallichoros, she founded the
sacred worship whereby men should do honour to her in the future.
She herself instructed the princes of the land "in the performance
of the cult and taught them her sacred _Orgia_", which respect for
the goddess does not allow them to communicate to others.[1\6] This
primitive Eleusinian cult of Demeter, then, is the religious service
of a close corporation. Knowledge of the holy ritual, carrying with
it the priesthood of the two goddesses is confined to the
descendants of the four Eleusinian princes to whom Demeter once gave
her ordinances as an inheritance. The cult is therefore a "secret"
one: not more so, indeed, than a great many cult-societies of
Greece, participation in which was strictly forbidden to all
unauthorized persons.[2\6] It differs from them, however, in the
solemn promise which is made to the participants in its worship.
"Blessed is the man who has beheld these holy acts; but he that is
uninitiated and has no share in the holy ceremonies shall not enjoy
a like fate after his death, in the gloomy darkness of Hades." To
those who share in the Eleusinian worship a privileged fate is
promised after death; but even in his lifetime, we read further
on,[3\6] he is highly blessed whom the two goddesses love: they send
him Ploutos, the giver of good things, to be a beloved partner of
his hearth and home. On the other hand, whosoever honours not Korê,
the queen of the lower world, with gifts and sacrifice, shall do
penance everlastingly (368 ff.).
The narrow circle of those to whom such a tremendous promise was
made began to be extended after the time when Eleusis was united
with Athens (which may have taken place some time in the seventh
century), and when the Eleusinian worship was raised to the position
of an official cult of the Athenian state. Nor was it Attica alone,
but the whole of Greece which became interested in the Eleusinian
festival, when Athens became the chief centre of Greek life. A
solemn "truce of God" was proclaimed which assured the peaceful and
undisturbed performance of the sacred ritual, and distinguished the
Eleusinia, like the great games and Fairs of Olympia, the Isthmus,
etc., as a Pan-Hellenic festival. At {220} the height of Athenian
power (about 440)[4\6] a decree of the people was passed which
required the yearly offering of first fruits of the fields to the
Eleusinian temple from Athenian citizens and allies, and invited
similar offerings from _all_ Greek states. The decree could appeal
in so doing to ancient and ancestral custom, and to an utterance of
the Delphic god who had authorized these things.[5\6] The inner
history of the development of the Eleusinian festival is a matter of
some obscurity. The holy rites continued to be performed at Eleusis;
Eleusinian noble families still took part[6\6] in the worship of the
goddesses, which was yet directed by the Athenian government. On the
other hand, a good deal must have been altered in the course of
time. The popular decree mentioned above acquaints us with the names
of two triads, each composed of two divine personages and a Hero,
who were worshipped at Eleusis at that time. Demeter and Korê occur
together with Triptolemos, and also "the god, the goddess, and
Eubouleus".[7\6] The Homeric hymn gives no hint of the very
important position here (and in innumerable other accounts, as well
as pictorial representations) attributed to Triptolemos, nor of the
other addition to the Eleusinian group of divinities. It is evident
that in the course of years many different local figures and modes
of worship have been added to and fused with the old cult of the two
goddesses; and that in these local figures we have always the one
type of chthonic godhead expressing itself anew in ever varied and
differentiated forms. Their number is not exhausted by the six
already mentioned.[8\6] The most important addition to the
Eleusinian circle of deities was Iakchos, the son of Zeus
(Chthonios) and Persephone. This god was himself an underworld
deity, quite distinct from that Dionysos, with whom other Athenian
cults confused him, and with whom he was in fact commonly
identified.[9\6] It is a very probable supposition that this god,
who soon came to be regarded as the central figure of the group of
deities worshipped at Eleusis,[10\6] was the contribution of Athens
to that circle: his temple was situated in Athens not Eleusis;[11\6]
in the Athenian suburb Agrai the "Little Mysteries" were celebrated
in his honour in the spring as a sort of prelude to the greater
festival. At the Eleusinia itself, the sacred procession, in which
the picture of the youthful god was borne from Athens to Eleusis,
formed the link between the part of the festival already performed
at Athens and that still to take place at Eleusis. The introduction
of Iakchos into the festival of Eleusis did not merely make an
external addition to the group of divinities that already shared in
it; it added {221} an act[12\6] to the sacred story, the
representation of which was the goal and summit of the festival; and
thereby in all probability enriched it internally in meaning and
substance. It is, indeed, quite impossible for us even to hazard a
guess as to the exact meaning and essence of the change which came
over the festival thus enlarged in the course of time. We can,
however, be sure of this much; there is no ground at all for
entertaining the commonly held view that it was the private
mysteries of Orphic conventicles which exercised such a transforming
influence on the public mysteries of the Athenian state. Those who
are not content with solemn and mysterious jargon about "Orphics"
and the like, but keep clearly in mind the well-known and quite
distinctive features of the Orphic doctrine about gods and the souls
of men, will easily recognize that everything points to the
unlikelihood of even a single one of these having entered the circle
of ideas current at Eleusis.[13\6] They could only have shattered
such ideas to pieces.
If the festival, then, grew of its own accord in inward meaning and
outward circumstance, the circle of those who came to take part in
it grew as well. Originally this festival, so rich in promised
blessings, admitted only the citizens of Eleusis, perhaps only the
members of certain noble Eleusinian families--and may have appeared
to its members an even greater privilege through this very
exclusiveness. In this respect it changed completely, admission to
it was thrown open to all Greeks--not merely Athenians, but every
Greek without distinction of race or country, whether man or woman,
was welcomed at Eleusis (and even hetairai, who were still excluded,
e.g. from the Demeter-festival of the Athenian women; to say nothing
of children and slaves).[14\6] The generosity of Athens--such was
the glorious boast--wished the unexampled salvation which this
festival promised to its worshippers to be made accessible to all
Greeks.[15\6] What contrast to the exclusive cult-unions into which
a man had to be born in order, as citizen of a state, member of a
_phratria_, clan, or family, to participate in the advantages they
offered! The society of the Eleusinian mystery-festival, once just
as exclusive as the rest, had thrown open its doors so widely that
this almost unconditional freedom of access became its principle and
distinguishing characteristic. The attraction of membership was even
heightened by the fact that just by his own unhampered free will and
choice the individual could enter the great society through the
mediation of one of the two families to whom the highest priesthood
of the festival {222} was committed.[16\5] The only condition made
was ritual purity, and murderers, for whom this was an
impossibility--as it was even for those who were only accused of the
shedding of blood--were as such excluded from the mysteries: as,
indeed, they were from all the religious ceremonies of the
state.[17\6]
Religious purification of the worshippers preceded and accompanied
the holding of the festival; to many of the believers it may have
appeared that the whole festival itself was principally a great
purification and religious dedication of unusual solemnity, by which
the members ("the Pure"[18\6] as they called themselves) were made
worthy of the favour of the goddesses.
§ 3
As to the actual details of what went on at the long-drawn-out
festival itself our knowledge hardly extends beyond the most
external circumstances, and is even so most incomplete. A few
notices in late and often untrustworthy writers give us a very
inadequate picture of what took place inside the great temple of
initiation and of the essential Mystery. The secret which was
committed[19\6] to the Mystai and Epoptai has been well kept.
Considering the enormous number of worshippers indiscriminately
admitted to the festival, this would, indeed, have been a real
miracle, if the secret to be kept had taken the form of dogma
expressed in concept and words and capable of being communicated
verbally to others. Since the labours of Lobeck, however,
drastically reducing to order the confusion of opinions on this
subject, no reasonable person believes that this was the case. It
was difficult to let out the "secret" for there was essentially no
secret to let out. Profanation could only come through actions,
through "the Mysteries being acted",[20\6] as they were in the year
415 in the house of Poulytion. The Mystery was a dramatic
performance, or, more strictly, a religious Pantomime, accompanied
by sacred songs[21\6] and formal speeches; a representation, as
Christian authors let us see, of the Rape of Korê, the wanderings of
Demeter, and the final reunion of the goddesses. This in itself
would not have made the mysteries remarkable; a similar dramatic
reproduction of the circumstances attending the life of a god, which
had led to the foundation of the festival in question, was a very
widespread cult-practice in Greece; it was part of the festivals of
Zeus, Here, Apollo, Artemis, Dionysos, and, above all, of other
festivals in honour of Demeter herself. But the Eleusinia was
distinguished from all other such festivals, even from the equally
secret festivals of Demeter known as the Thesmophoria and the Haloa,
by reason {223} of the hopes which it inspired in the minds of the
initiated. The Hymn to Demeter tells us that the pious worshipper of
the Goddess at Eleusis might hope for riches upon earth and a better
fate after death. Later authorities also speak of the success in
this life which initiation at Eleusis gave good ground for
expecting. But far more emphatic are the statements, made by
innumerable witnesses from Pindar and Sophokles onwards, that only
they who have been initiated into these mysteries may entertain a
joyful expectation of the life to come. To them only is it granted
to have real "life" in Hades; nothing but evil awaits others in that
place.[22\6]
It was these promises of a blessed immortality that for centuries
drew so many worshippers to the Eleusinian festival. Nowhere else
could such promises be obtained with such distinctness and
assurance. The injunction commanding secrecy must obviously have
referred to quite other matters; it cannot have applied to this, the
greatest boon anticipated from initiation at Eleusis. Everyone
speaks out aloud and without restraint about it. At the same time,
all our information is so completely at one on the point and so free
from doubt or uncertainty that we must perforce believe that the
performances that were to be preserved so secret were, in reality,
for the believers the source of an assurance which was not held as
the mere probable conjecture of individuals, but as fixed and
certain truth beyond question or need of interpretation.
How this was brought about certainly remains obscure. Since the
discrediting of "symbolism" in the sense made familiar by Creuzer or
Schelling, many of our modern mythologists and historians of
religion have been all the more eager to assert that the
performances at the Eleusinian mysteries were in reality the true
and mystic celebration of the Greek "Religion of Nature" as
discovered by themselves. Demeter, in this view, would be the earth;
Korê-Persephone, her daughter, the seed of corn; the Rape and Return
of Korê would mean the sowing of the seed in the earth and the rise
of the young grain from beneath the soil; or, in a more general
sense, "the yearly decay and renewal of vegetation." In some way or
other the Mystai must have had revealed to them the real meaning of
the "nature-symbolism" hidden in the mystical performances.
Witnessing these performances they are supposed to have learnt that
the fate of the seed of corn, represented by Persephone, its
disappearance beneath the earth and eventual rebirth, is an image of
the fate of the human soul, which also disappears that it may {224}
live again. This, then, must be the real content of the holy
Mystery.
It remains, however, first and foremost, to be proved that the
Greeks[23\6] themselves would have regarded such symbolistic
mummery, in which the phenomena and processes of nature appear under
the guise of anthropomorphic gods, as religious at all, or would
have recognized their own religion in such things. Still
further--admitting for the sake of argument the possibility of such
an interpretation--the identification of Korê with the seed of corn
and its fate leads at once, if we try to get beyond the vaguest
generalities, to intolerable absurdity. It is difficult to see,
however (and this would be the main point at issue), how such an
analogy between the soul and the grain of seed could have led to a
faith in immortality that was not to be had, it would seem, in a
more direct fashion. What possible effect could have been produced
by such a far-fetched and arbitrary parallel between the phenomena
of two such wholely different provinces of existence? If a
reasonably plausible deduction was to be made from the visible and
unmistakable (the condition of the grain) to the invisible and
unknown (the condition of the soul) surely the first and simplest
requisite would be that a real causal connexion between the two
should be plainly demonstrated. These may seem dull and pedantic
considerations where the sublimest forebodings of the heart are
concerned; but I should not have supposed that it would have been so
easy to tempt the Greeks with vague surmises from the path of logic
and lucidity, or that such surmises would have afforded them such
extremity of "bliss".
Lastly, the analogy, even if it proved anything, is false. It would
only hold if the soul, like the grain, after a temporary
disappearance below the earth, were promised a new life upon the
earth--if a _palingenesia_ in fact were promised. That this,
however, was not a belief supported by the officially conducted
mysteries of Athens, is admitted on all hands.
Equally untenable is the view that the dramatic presentation at the
mysteries of the Rape and Return of Korê (regarded this time as a
divine personage, not as the personified grain of corn) was intended
to inspire hopes of an analogous fate for the human soul, by virtue
of a mystic unification of the life of man with the life of the
godhead to whom he swears allegiance.[24\6] Even so the hope based
upon the typical fate of Korê could only have led to a hope for the
palingenesia of mankind in general, not (what was and always
remained the real belief of Eleusis) to the hope of a specially
{225} favoured after-life for the Mystai in the kingdom below the
world. Indeed, we must not look to the Eleusinian mysteries for the
ecstatic exaltation of the soul to the recognition of its own
godhead--though such exaltation was the motive force and the
essential core of Greek _mysticism_, as of all mysticism and mystic
religion. From the mysteries of Eleusis, however, it remained far
removed; the belief there fostered, with its absolute division and
distinction between the divine and the human, never transgressed the
bounds of popular Greek religion, over whose portals stood the
universally prescriptive words: ~he\n andrô=n, he\n theô=n
ge/nos~--"the race of men is one, and the race of gods is another."
Nor was Eleusis any exception to this rule; the mysteries did not
point the way to mysticism.
§ 4
Inquiry is on the wrong track when a deeper meaning is sought for in
the mimic presentation of the sacred myth at Eleusis whereby the
human soul was to obtain the blessed hope of immortality. The
conviction that the human soul was immortal in its own right, by
reason of its own nature, was not a conviction that was obtained at
Eleusis. That is why we may dismiss such fanciful analogies as those
between the human soul and the seed of corn or the goddess of the
earth's life. Such analogies, if they proved anything, would prove
at most the complete indestructibility, in spite of all vicissitude,
of the life of the human soul--of every human soul. But this was not
Eleusinian doctrine. The continued conscious existence of the soul
after its separation from the body was not a doctrine but a
presupposition of Eleusis; and it could be thus presupposed because
it was the basic idea of the popular and widespread cult offered to
the souls of the departed.[25\6] The advantage obtained by the
initiated at Eleusis was that a livelier and fuller _content_ was
given to the bare existence of the disembodied soul, which was all
that the current worship of the souls essentially contemplated. We
are assured that only the initiated at Eleusis will have a real
"life" after death; that evil will be the fate of "the
others".[26\6] Not _that_ the soul, relieved of the presence of the
body, will live hereafter, but _how_ it will live was what Eleusis
taught men. With the calm assurance common to all close and confined
religious associations, the Eleusinian society divided mankind into
two classes: the "Pure", that is those who had been initiated at
Eleusis, and the innumerable multitude of the uninitiated. Only for
the members in {226} communion with the mystery of Eleusis was
salvation assured. Salvation was theirs as a reversionary right, but
salvation such as theirs was a privilege and could only be obtained
by participation in the bounteous festival of the Athenian State and
in its ceremonial. Centuries of large-minded tolerance in admitting
to the mysteries extended this privilege to an immense number of
Greeks (and of Romans, too, in later times). But the prospect of a
blessed hereafter never became a matter of course; not as man, not
even as a virtuous and pious man did such a privilege come to
anyone. It was granted solely to the member of the Eleusinian
religious society and the participator in the divine service of the
goddesses.[27\6]
What were the means employed to impress this hope--this certain
expectation rather--of a blessed hereafter in Hades upon the Mystai?
We must frankly admit that we cannot, unfortunately, say anything
definite in answer to this question. Only to the suggestion that
these hopes were grounded upon _symbolic_ representations of any
kind may we give a decided denial. And yet this is the generally
accepted opinion. "Symbols" there may have been, as an assistance to
the dramatic or pantomimic representation of the Rape and Return of
Korê;[28\6] but hardly in any other sense than that of typical
_condensations_--the part being put for the whole, or the whole
understood in the part--of scenes impossible to represent in their
entirety. It is true that with the lapse of centuries, and in the
absence of any official written interpretation of the inner meaning
and intention of the ritual many of these symbols became
unintelligible--a disadvantage which belonged to all other
departments of Greek religion as well. As soon as independent
reflexion on matters of religion began to arise, many sorts of
allegorical or symbolical interpretations began to be applied to the
details of the performances at the mysteries. Does it follow from
this that the mysteries of the Earth divinities, as some are
inclined to believe, bore a symbolical or allegorical character from
the outset, and differed in this respect from all other Greek
worship of the gods?[29\6] Similar interpretations were applied by
philosophers or would-be philosophers to the fables of the gods in
Homeric or popular mythology; the mysteries did not by any means
hold a peculiar position in the minds of connoisseurs of
myth-interpretation in antiquity. If a "deeper meaning" was attached
by preference to the performances at Eleusis, that only shows that
much in these performances was no longer understood, or in its real
meaning no longer satisfied the spirit of the philosophic centuries.
But it shows also that for this {227} festival of unexampled
splendour, where night and the injunction of secrecy awakened awed
expectancy,[30\6] performed according to an archaic ritual of
ever-increasing perfection and attended by the whole of Greece, an
unusual sympathy was felt. It offered something to the eye and the
ear which was attractive to all men, and they exerted themselves to
find a satisfactory meaning in its sights and sounds. Finally, it is
likely enough that the "meaning" which they themselves had
arbitrarily bestowed upon them was what made the mysteries specially
attractive to many. To this extent it is legitimate to say that
symbolism was a real and historical factor in the constitution of
the mysteries.
Even supposing, however, that much in the presentation of this
mystic festival was consciously ordered and disposed by the founders
of it with a view to symbolic interpretation, and consequently to
the possibility of an ever-increasing idealization of its
significance, yet this cannot have extended to the hopes of a
blessed immortality revealed to the Mystai. Symbolist or
allegorizing modes of interpretation must always have been the
private concern of individuals and therefore liable to much
uncertainty and variety.[31\6] Our authorities, however, from the
most diverse periods, speak with far too great distinctness and
unanimity about the blessed hereafter vouchsafed to the initiated in
the mysteries, for it to be credible that this can have been the
outcome of any interpretation of complexities, or of any
metaphorical application of the hopes derived from events in the
life of the gods to a quite different province, the life of the
human soul. What every witness speaks of in the plainest and
simplest language without any special "mystery"--the hope of future
blessedness--must have been offered to the participants in the
mysteries in the most unequivocal fashion. It is natural, above all,
to suppose that the exhibition of the "mystic drama" included
particularly the final scene as it is sketched in the 2nd Homeric
Hymn: the foundation of the Eleusinian festival by the goddess
herself--what had once been revealed to the little city-community
must have been proclaimed to the great company of those admitted to
the common festival of Eleusis:[32\6] the highest reward of
participation in this unparalleled act of worship is what the
Homeric Hymn distinctly puts forth as such--the peculiar favour of
the gods of the lower world and a future life of blessedness within
their kingdom. The statues of the goddesses were seen radiantly
illuminated;[33\6] at this festival of grace in remembrance of their
trials, their happiness, and their beneficent acts, they {228}
themselves--as it seemed to the faithful believer--were invisibly
present. What further need of warrant was there for the promises of
future blessedness?
§ 5
In spite of many extravagant statements from antiquity, we have no
means of estimating how widely participation in the Eleusinian
mysteries (whether of those celebrated at Eleusis itself or in the
numerous associated festivals) was extended in Greece. Still, it is
probable that large numbers, not from Athens alone but from the
whole of Greece, sought eagerly to enter the state of grace
vouchsafed to the worshippers at Eleusis. In this way the more
lively conception of the state of the soul in the hereafter may have
gradually become the common property of Greek imagination.
On the whole, we must be on our guard against attributing too great
an importance to these mysteries. There can hardly have been any
question of moral influence--the ancients themselves in their most
exaggerated eulogies of the mysteries and their greatness, say
almost nothing of this.[34\6] Nor is it easy to see what part of the
mysteries could have served as a vehicle of moral influence.[35\6]
Distinct dogma in the religious sense was never provided by the
mysteries any more than by other worships of the gods in Greece. Nor
was there anything exclusive about the cult of the mysteries; side
by side with that cult and after it the Mystai took part in other
worships of the gods, according to the usages prevailing in their
own homes. The great festival when it was over left no sting behind
in the hearts of the initiated. No requirement of a new manner of
life, no new and peculiar condition of conscience was theirs on its
account; no strange revaluation of values, contradicting the general
opinions of the time, was learnt there. There was a total absence of
that which (if we rightly understand the word) gives to the
doctrines of sectarian religion their force and
persuasiveness--_paradox_. Even the prospect of future bliss opened
to the initiated did not divert them from the normal tenor of their
existence. It was a genial prospect; not a compelling demand drawing
all things to itself and turning men away from ordinary life. The
light that fell from beyond was not so blinding that it made all
things on this earth seem dark and mean. If in the decadence of
Greek culture--and even among the people of Homer--ideas hostile to
this life made their appearance and in many places acquired weight
and influence; if some men began to think death superior {229} to
life, and this life, of which alone we can be assured, as merely a
preparation, a land of passage to a higher life in the world
invisible--for all this the mysteries were not responsible. It was
not they, nor the feelings and surmises awakened by their pictures
and performances, that dulled the beauty of this earth for the
enthusiasts "intoxicated with other-worldliness", or made them
strangers to the instincts of life and sanity prevailing in older
and unspoiled ages of Greek life.
NOTES TO CHAPTER VI
[1\6: _H. Cer._ 270 ff. (Demeter speaks) ~all' a/ge moi nêo/n te
me/gan kai\ bômo\n hup' autô=| teucho/ntôn pa=s dê=mos hupai\ po/lin
aipu/ te tei=chos, Kallicho/rou kathu/perthen, epi\ prou/chonti
kolônô=|. _o/rgia d' autê\ egô\n hupothê/somai_, hôs a\n e/peita
euage/ôs e/rdontes emo\n me/nos hila/skêsthe~. Building of the
temple: 298 ff., and following that the instructions of the goddess
as to the ~drêsmosu/nê hierô=n~ and the ~o/rgia~, 474 ff.]
[2\6: See Lobeck, _Agl._ 272 ff.]
[3\6: 487 ff. I will not stop to answer the attacks made on the
concluding part of the hymn nor to defend the many lines which
editors have rejected. None of the attacks seem to me justified.]
[4\6: Körte, _Ath. Mitt._ 1896, p. 320, dates the decree in the year
418.]
[5\6: ~kata\ ta\ pa/tria kai\ tê\n mantei/an tê\n ek Delphô=n~,
_SIG._ 20, l. 5; 26 f.; 35 [_IG._ i, _Supp._, p. 59, 27_b_]. In
Sicily the Eleusinia are already well known in the time of
Epicharmos: Epich. ~en Odussei= automo/lô|~ ap. Ath. 374 D = 100
Kaib. _EM._ 255, 2; cf. K. O. Müller, _Kl. Schr._ ii, 259.]
[6\6: We can only state this definitely of the Eumolpidai who
provided the male and female hierophants. Severely as the genealogy
of this family has suffered on all sides through fictitious
accretions and combinations there can be no doubt of its Eleusinian
origin. On the other hand, it is a striking fact that none of the
~ge/nê~ who are known to have shared in the direction of the Eleus.
mysteries derived their origin from the Eleusinian princes mentioned
in _h. Cer._ 475-6 as receiving with Eumolpos the instructions of
the goddess (Triptolemos, Diokles, Keleos). The Krokonidai and
Koironidai did, it is true, claim Triptolemos as their ancestor, but
their connexion with the sacred festival is obscure and dubious (see
K. O. Müller, _Kl. Schr._ ii, 255 f.). The Kerykes (in whose family
the posts of Dadouchos, Herald of the Mysteries, Priest ~epi\
bômô=|~, etc., were hereditary) were only connected with Eumolpos by
a tradition which the family itself regarded as apocryphal (Paus. 1,
38, 3); they themselves traced their descent from Hermes and Herse
the daughter of Kekrops (s. Dittenberger, _Hermes_, xx, 2), and
therefore evidently regarded themselves as an Athenian family. We
know too little of these relationships to venture to say that this
claim was unjustified (as Müller, p. 250 f., is inclined to do).
Nothing need prevent us from supposing that this is one of the many
innovations introduced at and after the union of Eleusis and its
festival with Athens--many of them are quite evident--and that in
addition to the old Eleusinian priestly families the Athenian family
of the Kerykes was given a regular part in the ~drêsmosu/nê
hierô=n~. This would then be part of the compromise (~sunthê=kai~,
Paus. 2, 14, 2) between Athens and Eleusis upon which the whole
relationship between the two states and their religious cults
rested.]
[7\6: See above, chap. v, n. 18.]
[8\6: It is doubtful what part the goddess Daeira played in the
Eleusinia: that she played some part must be regarded as certain
from the fact that among the official priesthoods of the festival a
~daeiri/tês~ is expressly mentioned (Poll. i, 35). She stands in a
certain opposition to Demeter: but though she is nevertheless
identified by Aesch. {231} and others with Persephone (K. O. Müller,
_Kl. Schr._ ii, 288) the most we may deduce from this is that she
also was a chthonic deity. (Acc. to the sacrificial calendar of the
Attic Tetrapolis, _Leg. Sacr._ i, p. 48, B. 12. ~Dai/ra| hoi=s
kuou=sa~ was offered. This does not point to the identity of this
goddess with Persephone--as the editor, p. 52, points out. Pregnant
animals were by preference offered to Demeter, though occasionally
to Artemis and Athene too.) Daeira seems from all the indications to
belong to the ~chtho/nioi~. (Meaning of the name uncertain: ? "the
knowing one" or "the (torch) burning one": cf. Lobeck, _Pathol.
prol._ 263.) In Eust. on ~Z~ 378, p. 648, 24, among the notices
collected from the lexicographers there is one in which Pherekydes
makes her the sister of Styx (it is not Pherekydes but the
over-subtle scholar to whom Eust. owes his note, who thinks that
Daeira signified the ~hugra\ phu/sis~ to the ancients; so also Ael.
Dionys. quoting ~hoi peri\ teleta\s kai\ mustê/ria~ in his Lexicon,
ap. Eust. 648, 41. This is a worthless allegorical
interpretation).--For which reason some made her the daughter of
Okeanos (Müller, pp. 244, 288 )--~tine\s de\ phu/laka Persepho/nês
hupo\ Plou/tônos apodeichthê=nai/ phasi tê\n Da/eiran~ (648, 40).
According to this she would be a Hades-daimon keeping guard over the
wife of Aidoneus (cf. the guardian ~Kôkutou= peri/dromoi ku/nes~ in
Ar., _Ran._ 472, quoting Eurip.). In this case we can see the origin
of Demeter's hostility. Did this Daeira also play a part (as a
character) in the Eleusinian ~dra=ma mustiko/n~? Ap. Rh. makes her
the same as Hekate, who, however, in the _h. Cer._ (and on
vase-paintings) is the helper rather than the enemy of Demeter.]
[9\6: So also in the recently discovered Paean (fourth century B.C.)
of Philodamos of Skarpheia addressed to Dionysos (_BCH._ 1895, p.
403), where in the third section we are told how Dionysos, the son
of Thyone, born in Thebes, went from Delphi to Eleusis where he was
called Iakchos by the mortals to whom he had (in the mysteries)
revealed ~po/nôn ho/rmon a/lupon~.--The attempt at historical
synthesis, bringing together as many as possible of the different
relations and ramifications of the Dionysos nature, is particularly
evident in the whole composition of this hymn. The cult of Dionysos
was established in Attica by the Delphic oracle--so much is certain;
and that is enough for the poet who now makes Iakchos, too, come
from Delphi to the people of Attica. Such a conception has no
historical significance.]
[10\6: ~I/akchos~ (there clearly distinguished from ~Dio/nusos) tê=s
Dê/mêtros dai/môn~ is described as ~ho archêge/tês tô=n mustêri/ôn~
in Str. 468 (cf. Ar., _Ran._ 398 f.).]
[11\6: The ~Iakchei=on~ (Plu., _Arist._ 27. Alciphr. iii, 59, 1).]
[12\6: Was the birth of Iakchos any part of the spectacle at the
mysteries? It might be thought so from what we are told by Hippol.,
_RH._ 5, 8, p. 162 D.-S.: the hierophant ~nukto\s en Eleusi=ni hupo\
pollô=| puri\ telô=n ta\ mustê/ria boa=| kai\ ke/krage le/gôn;
hiero\n e/teke po/tnia kou=ron Brimô\ brimo/n~. This statement,
however, suffers from the disadvantage belonging to all information
given by Christian writers on the subject of mysteries when not
confirmed by earlier evidence; such information is admissible at
most for the actual time of the writer. (Immediately combined with
this in Hippol. comes the remarkable assertion that the hierophant
was ~eunouchisme/nos dia\ kônei/ou~. Of this Epict. for example (3,
21, 16) knows nothing, but only speaks of the ~hagnei/a~--probably
confined to the time of the festival and its preparation--of the
hierophant. Still, Jerome, _adv. Jovin._ 1, 49, p. 320 C Vall.,
speaks of the cicutae sorbitionis castrari of the hierophant.
Likewise Serv., _A._ vi, 661.)] {232}
[13\6: An opportunity of speaking in more detail of Orphic doctrine
will occur later on. Here I will only point out in passing that the
ancients themselves never suggested for a moment that Orpheus--the
master of every kind of mysticism--had anything in particular to do
with the Eleusinia; as Lob. _Agl._ 239 shows.]
[14\6: As to the admission of slaves to the Eleusinian initiation
ceremonies K. O. Müller, _Kl. Schr._ ii, 56, opposes Lobeck (_Agl._
19) and suggests a doubt. His main objection is that on the great
inscr. dealing with the regulation of the Eleusinia (_CIA._ i, 1)
_side by side_ with ~mu/stai kai\ epo/ptai~ there is mention _also_
of ~ako/louthoi~ (but not of ~dou=loi~, Ziehen, _Leg. Sacr._
[Diss.], p. 14 f.)--i.e. presumably slaves, not themselves Mystai,
belonging to the ~mu/stai~. But if slaves were initiated that would
not prevent there being other slaves, ~ako/louthoi~ of the
~mu/stai~, uninitiated and not reckoned among the ~mu/stai~. It is
definitely stated on the official record of building expenses at
Eleusis dating from the year 329/8, _CIA._ ii, 834, b, col. 2, 71,
~mu/êsis duoi=n tô=n dêmosi/ôn~ (the state slaves employed in the
building operations) ~D D D~ (cf. l. 68). Initiation of the
~dêmo/sioi~ also in _CIA._ ii, 834 c, 24. On this view, when the
comic poet Theophilos (ii, p. 473 K.) makes someone speak of his
~agapêto\s despo/tês~ by whom he ~emuê/thê theoi=s~, it will not be
necessary to suppose that a freedman (as Meineke, _Com._ 3, 626) is
speaking and not a slave.--The generosity implied was all the
greater since in many of the most sacred feasts of the gods at
Athens slaves were expressly excluded: cf. Philo, _Q. omn. Prob._
20, ii, p. 467 M. Casaubon on Ath., vol. 12, p. 495 Schw.]
[15\6: Isoc. 4, 28, ~Dê/mêtros ga\r aphikome/nês eis tê\n chô/ran .
. . kai\ dou/sês dôrea\s ditta/s, hai/per me/gistai tugcha/nousin
ou=sai, tou/s te karpou\s kai\ tê\n teletê/n, . . . hou=tôs hê
po/lis hêmô=n ou mo/non theophilô=s alla\ kai\ philanthrô/pôs
e/schen, hô/ste kuri/a genome/nê tosou/tôn agathô=n ouk ephtho/nêse
toi=s a/llois, all' hô=n e/laben _ha/pasi_~ (he means all _Greeks_:
cf. 157) ~mete/dôken~.]
[16\6: ~muei=n d' ei=nai toi=s ou=si Kêru/kôn kai\ Eumolpidô=n~ as
the law appoints, _CIA._ i, 1 (more exactly _Supp._ p. 3 f.), ll.
110-11. Thus the ~mu/êsis~ belonged exclusively to the members of
the ~ge/nê~ of the Eumolpidai and Kerykes (but to all the members,
not merely those serving as officers at the particular festival
concerned). Cf. Dittenberger, _Hermes_, 20, 31 f. The Emperor
Hadrian, in order to be able to hold the festival in a more
sumptuous manner, had himself made ~a/rchôn~ of the ~Eumolpidô=n
ge/nos~, having already been made a member of that ~ge/nos~: ins.
from Eleusis, _Ath. Mitt._ 1894, p. 172.--There is no reference to
the Eleusinia in what is said about the ~muei=n~ of a priestess
belonging to the family of the Phyllidai in Phot. ~Phillei=dai~: see
Töpffer, _Att. Geneal._ 92.--The exx. of ~mu/êsis~ collected by
Lobeck (_Agl._ 28 ff.) do not contradict this law: in the case of
Lysias who ~hupe/scheto muê/sein~ the hetaira Metaneira [D.] 59, 21,
~muei=n~ merely means defray the cost of initiation (quite correctly
explained by Müller, review of _Aglaoph._, _Kl. Schr._ ii, 56). So,
too, in the case of Theoph. (ii, p. 473 K.) ~emuê/thên theoi=s~,
i.e. at the expense of my master.]
[17\6: The ~pro/rrêsis~ of the Basileus and the proclamations of the
hierophant and dadouchos excluded all ~andropho/noi~ from those
taking part in the mysteries: Lob., _Agl._ 15. They were also, it is
true, excluded from all other sacred rites: Lob. 17. Even ~toi=s en
aiti/a|~ the Archon gave warning ~ape/chesthai mustêri/ôn kai\ tô=n
a/llôn nomi/môn~ (Poll. 8, 90): in fact, the person accused of
murder was in any case, as "unclean", excluded from _all_ ~no/mima~:
Antipho, vi, 36 (in _AB._ 310, 8 read ~nomi/môn~).] {233}
[18\6: ~_ho/sioi_ mu/stai~, Ar., _Ran._ 336. (So, too, the Mystai of
the Orphic mysteries are called ~hoi ho/sioi~: Pl., _Rp._ 363 C;
Orph., _H._ 84, 3.) ~ho/sios~ is probably here used in its primitive
sense = "clean" (~ho/siai chei=res~, etc.). [Pl.] _Axioch._ 371 D
refers to ~ta\s hosi/ous agchistei/as~ of the Eleus. Mystai. In the
same way ~hosiou=n~ was used of ritual purification and expiation:
~phugai=sin hosiou=n~ the murder, E., _Or._ 515; ~hosiou=n~ the
returned homicide, D. 23, 73; (of the Bacchic mysteries ~ba/kchos
eklê/thên hosiôthei/s~, E. _fr._ 472, 15). Thus the ~ho/sioi~ are
identical with the _~kekatharme/noi~_ as the initiated are called:
Pl. _Phd._ 69 C, and frequently. It would be hazardous to suppose
that the Mystai called themselves ~ho/sioi~ as the _only_ pious and
righteous people (though that is what ~ho/sios a/nthrôpos~ and the
like mean elsewhere). Their spiritual self-satisfaction hardly went
as far as that, and indeed they did not ascribe so much _personal_
merit to themselves at all.]
[19\6: In a solemn announcement of the Keryx as it seems: the latter
acc. to Sopater ~diai/r. zêtêm.~ (Walz, _Rhet. Gr._ viii, 118, 24
f.) ~dêmosi/a| epita/ttei tê\n siôpê/n~ at the commencement of the
sacred ritual.]
[20\6: ~ta\ mustê/ria poiei=n~, Andoc., _Myst._ 11-12.--The more
clearly descriptive expression, ~exorchei=sthai ta\ mustê/ria~ does
not seem to occur before Aristides, Lucian, and the latter's
imitator Alciphron. [Lys.] 6, 51: ~hou=tos endu\s stolê/n,
mimou/menos ta\ hiera\ **epedei/knue toi=s amuê/tois kai\ ei=pe tê=|
phônê=| ta\ apo/rrêta~. The ~apor.~ thus divulged were the sacred
formulæ uttered by the hierophant.]
[21\6: At least in later ages there was plenty to hear: ~eis
epha/millon kate/stê tai=s akoai=s ta\ horô/mena~, Aristid.,
_Eleus._ I, 415 Di. [ii, 28 Ke.]. We frequently hear of the
beautiful voices of the hierophants, of ~hu/mnoi~ ringing out, etc.]
[22\6: The well-known statements of Pindar, Sophokles, Isokrates,
Krinagoras, Cicero, and others are collected by Lobeck, _Agl._ 69
ff. There is a reminiscence of Isocr. in Aristid. _Eleus._ I 421 Di.
[ii, 30 Ke.] ~alla\ mê\n to/ ge ke/rdos tê=s panêgu/reôs ouch ho/son
hê parou=sa euthumi/a . . . alla\ kai\ peri\ tê=s teleutê=s hêdi/ous
e/chein ta\s elpi/das~. id. _Panath._ I, 302 Di. ~ta\s arrê/tous
teleta\s hô=n toi=s metaschou=si kai\ meta\ tê=n tou= bi/ou
teleutê\n belti/ô ta\ pra/gmata gi/gnesthai dokei=~. Cf. also
Welcker's account, _Gr. Götterl._ ii, 519 ff., in which, however,
there is a good deal mixed up which has nothing to do with the
mysteries.]
[23\6: That is, in the time of still vital religion and in the
circles which still retained an unspoilt feeling for it. Apart from
these it is true that the allegorical interpretation of myths was
already familiar in antiquity, and in learned circles the gods and
the stories of the gods were transformed and disintegrated ~eis
pneu/mata kai\ rheu/mata kai\ spo/rous kai\ aro/tous kai\ pa/thê
gê=s kai\ metabola\s hôrô=n~ as Plutarch complains, _Is. et O._ 66,
p. 377 D. These allegorical interpreters from Anaxagoras and
Metrodoros onwards are the real ancestors of our modern "nature"
mythologists. No one doubts, however, that from their
interpretations nothing can be learnt except what the real sense of
Greek belief in the gods certainly was _not_. It is worth noticing
that Prodikos, because he said that ~hê/lion kai\ selê/nên kai\
potamou\s kai\ leimô=nas kai\ karpou\s kai\ pa=n to\ toioutô=des~
were the real essence of the Greek gods, was looked upon as one of
the ~a/theoi~ (S.E., _M._ 9, 51-2 = B 5 Diels). Quam tandem
religionem reliquit? asks the Greek whom Cicero is reproducing in
_ND._ i, 118, with reference to this ancient prophet of Greek
"nature-religion".--For the ancient allegorists Persephone, too, is
nothing but ~to\ dia\ tô=n karpô=n phero/menon pneu=ma~ (so
Kleanthes: Plu. as above). Acc. to Varro Persephone "means"
fecunditatem seminum, {234} carried off by Orcus on the occasion of
some crop-failure, etc. (Aug., _CD._ vii, 20). In Porph. ap. Eus.,
_PE._ 3, 11, 7-9. we actually have the very interpretation which has
been recently restored to so much favour--that ~Ko/rê~ is nothing
else but a (feminine) personification of ~ko/ros~ = young plant,
shoot.]
[24\6: A hint of such an explanation occurs in Sallustius, _de Dis_
iv, ~kata\ tê\n enanti/an isêmeri/an~ (i.e. the autumnal) ~hê tê=s
Ko/rês harpagê\ **muthologei=tai gene/sthai; ho\ dê\ ka/thodo/s hesti
tô=n psuchô=n~ (from the standpoint of this Neoplatonist at any rate
the analogy might be carried through). So, too, Sopater ~diai/r.
zêt.~ in Walz, _Rh. Gr._ viii, 115, 3, speaks of ~to\ tê=s psuchê=s
pro\s to\ thei=on suggene/s~ as if it were confirmed in the
(Eleusinian) mysteries.]
[25\6: It may be mentioned here by anticipation that a real doctrine
of the indestructibility of the human soul was first traditionally
attributed in antiquity to the Greek philosophers such as Thales or
to the _theosophoi_ such as Pherekydes (and Pythagoras too). In what
sense this can be regarded as true we shall learn in the course of
our inquiry. The mysteries of Eleusis, from which many modern
critics would like to derive the belief in immortality among the
Greeks, are mentioned by no ancient authority as among the sources
of that belief or of such a doctrine. In which they were quite
right.]
[26\6: Soph. _fr._ 753 N. [791 P.] ~hôs tri\s o/lbioi kei=noi
brotô=n, hoi\ tau=ta derchthe/ntes te/lê mo/lôs' es Ha/idou; toi=sde
ga\r mo/nois ekei= zê=n e/sti, toi=s d' a/lloisi pa/nt' ekei=
kaka/~.]
[27\6: The privileged position of the initiated is exhibited with
striking vigour in the well-known outburst of Diogenes: ~ti/
le/geis, e/phê, krei/ttona moi=ran he/xei Pataiki/ôn ho kle/ptês
apothanô\n ê\ Epameinô/ndas, ho/ti memu/êtai?~ Plu., _Aud. Poet._
iv, p. 21 F; D.L. vi, 39; Jul., _Or._ vii, 238 A (p. 308 Hert.).--A
homiletic application of Diogenes' saying is made by Philo, _Vict.
Off._ 12, ii, p. 261 M. ~sumbai/nei polla/kis tô=n me\n agathô=n
andrô=n mêde/na muei=sthai, lê|sta\s de\ e/stin ho/te kai\
katapontista\s kai\ gunaikô=n thia/sous bdeluktô=n kai\ akola/stôn,
epa\n argu/rion para/schôsi toi=s teloi=si kai\ hierophantou=si~.
Cf. _Spec. Leg._ 3, 7, i, p. 306 M.]
[28\6: Of this nature were the ~hiera/~ which the hierophant
"showed" and the other things that were employed in the festival:
pictures of gods, relics, and paraphernalia of all sorts (e.g. the
~ki/stê~ and the ~ka/lathos~: O. Jahn, _Hermes_, 3, 327 f.): see
Lob., _Agl._ 51-62.]
[29\6: Preller, for example (stimulated by K. O. Müller), is fond of
dwelling on the special character and meaning of the worship of the
chthonic deities as something quite distinct from other Greek
worships of the gods. An example may be found in Pauly-Wissowa^1,
s.v. _Eleusis_, iii, p. 108: "The department of religion to which
the Eleusinian cult belongs is that of the chthonic deities, which
had been indigenous in Greece from the earliest times and was a
widely popular cultus. In this cultus ideas of the generous
fruitfulness of the earth's soil and of the fruitfulness of
death--whose seat seems to be beneath the earth like the Old
Testament Sheol--were interwoven in a mysteriously suggestive way: a
way which essentially resisted all efforts at clear and distinct
comprehension, and could not help leading to mystical or occult
suggestions and obscure symbolistic expression." This and further
amplifications in the same sense all rest upon the unprovable axiom
that the activities of the ~chtho/nioi~ as gods of the soil and as
gods of the kingdom of the souls were "interwoven": the suggestive
haze of the rest follows naturally. But what in all this is Greek?]
[30\6: ~hê kru/psis hê mustikê\ tô=n hierô=n semnopoiei= to\
thei=on, mimoume/nê tê\n phu/sin autou= pheu/gousan hêmô=n tê\n
ai/sthêsin~. Str. 467.] {235}
[31\6: In fact the ancient allegorical interpretations of the
mysteries differed widely among themselves: Lob., _Agl._
136-40.--Even Galen attributed an allegorical sense to the mysteries
of Eleusis, but he thinks ~_amudra\_ ekei=na pro\s e/ndeixin hô=n
speu/dei dida/skein~ (iv, p. 361 K.). This cannot have been true of
the assurances given to the Mystai of a blessed future in Hades.]
[32\6: Such proclamations may have occurred in the ~hieropha/ntou
rhê/seis~ (Sop. ~diai/r. zêt.~ Walz, viii, 123, 29; cf. Lob., _Agl._
189).]
[33\6: Lob., _Agl._ 52, 58 f.]
[34\6: No one says anything of any kind of moral obligation
undertaken by the Mystai or of any consequent moral influence of the
festival: not even Andokides in whose warnings addressed to the
college of judges composed of Mystai (_Myst._ 31) the words ~hi/na
timôrê/sête me\n tou\s asebou=ntas ktl.~ are not to be taken with
the previous ~memu/êsthe kai\ heôra/kate toi=n theoi=n ta\ hiera/~
but with ~hoi/tines ho/rkous mega/lous ktl., kai\ arasa/menoi ktl.~
He speaks, in fact, of the moral obligation of the jury who have
taken the oath, as _judges_ not as Mystai. In Ar., _Ran._, 455 ff.,
the words ~ho/soi memuê/metha~ stand loosely side by side with
~eusebê= diê/gomen tro/pon peri\ tou\s xe/nous kai\ tou\s idiô/tas~.
(Of the Samothrakian mysteries Diodoros says, 5, 49, 6: ~gi/nesthai
de/ phasi kai\ eusebeste/rous kai\ dikaiote/rous kai\ kata\ pa=n
belti/onas heautô=n tou\s tô=n mustêri/ôn koinônê/santas~--as it
seems without effort on their part by a pure act of grace.)]
[35\6: Formal or verbal instruction of a theological or moral kind
was not supplied at Eleusis; so much may be stated without fear of
contradiction since the work of Lobeck. Thus, the three commandments
of Triptolemos, which acc. to Xenokrates ~diame/nousi Eleusi=ni~
(Porph., _Abs._ 4, 22) cannot be regarded as moral precepts
proclaimed at the mysteries: indeed, there is nothing to lead one to
conclude that they had anything to do with the mystery festival at
Eleusis. In character these very simple precepts seem related to the
laws of Bouzyges, with whom Triptolemos is sometimes confused
(Haupt, _Opusc._ iii, 505) and were very likely, like them, recited
at some agricultural festival. Supposing further that the third
"law" of Triptolemos: ~zô=|a mê\ si/nesthai~ was really (as Xenokr.
seems to have understood it) intended to recommend a complete
~apochê\ empsu/chôn~, then it certainly cannot have been proclaimed
at the Eleusinia (though this is what Dieterich thinks happened,
_Nekyia_, 165). It is surely unthinkable that the Mystai at Eleusis
were, after the Orphic model, absolutely forbidden to eat flesh for
the rest of their lives. It remains a possibility that the precept
had quite a different meaning--it does not definitely speak of the
killing of animals--and that it belongs to some simple farmer's
festival (not to the great festival of Eleusis, but rather, e.g. the
Haloa) at which the farmer was recommended to spare his live stock
(just as the third of the three laws of Demonassa at Cyprus forbade
the farmer ~mê\ apoktei=nai bou=n aro/trion~, D. Chr. 64, 3 [329 R.,
148 Arn.]; Attic law ap. Ael. _VH._ 5, 14, etc.).--In any case to
bring all this into connexion with the mystery festival of Eleusis
is absolutely without justification.]
{{236}}
CHAPTER VII
IDEAS OF THE FUTURE LIFE
Certain allusions in Plutarch and Lucian[1\7] would lead us to
suppose that the "mystery-drama" of Eleusis included also a visual
exhibition of the underworld and its blest, or unblest, inhabitants.
But these contemporaries of a final and luxuriant flowering of
mystery-religions of every kind can serve as reliable witnesses only
for their own period. In their day the Eleusinian festival, in
competition it may be with other secret worships which were invading
the Greco-Roman world in ever-increasing numbers, seems to have
undergone a considerable alteration and extension of its primitive
and traditional shape. We may doubt whether in earlier, classical
times the Eleusinia can have attempted to bind the imagination with
what were always petty details, or confine within formal limits what
lay beyond all human experience. Still the solemn promise of future
blessedness made in the mystic festival may, at any rate, have
stimulated the imagination of its worshippers and given a more
definite turn to their own natural efforts to picture the life to
come. The ideas cultivated at Eleusis unmistakably contributed to
the process by which the picture of Hades acquired colour and
distinctness. Even without such stimulus, the natural instinct of
the Greeks at all periods to give form even to what was essentially
formless, worked in the same direction. The limits set by Homeric
beliefs about the future world had made the Odyssean description of
a descent to Hades seem a risky experiment only to be undertaken
with the greatest caution. Now, however, since the re-establishment
of the belief in a conscious after-life of the disembodied soul,
such imaginative bodyings-forth of the invisible realm of shadows
had become apparently the most natural and innocent employment of
poetic fancy.
The story of Odysseus' journey to Hades and its expansion in
conformity with the gradually increasing distinctness with which the
life after death was conceived, was followed at an early period in
the development of Epic poetry by further accounts of such journeys
undertaken by other heroes. A Hesiodic poem described the descent of
Theseus and Peirithoös to the underworld.[2\7] A Nekyia, the details
of which are unknown, occurred in the poem of the _Return_ of the
heroes {237} from Troy. The epic which went by the name of the
"Minyas" seems to have given considerable space to a descent to
Hades.[3\7] The ancient fable of Herakles' descent to Hades and
conflicts in the underworld received embellishment at more than one
poet's hand.[4\7] As a result of such repeated and rival
interpretations of the story the stock of characters and events
associated with Hades was gradually and continually being enlarged.
Accident has preserved to us the fact about the little-known
_Minyas_ that it, too, added to the details of the picture. To what
extent popular imagination and mythology, on the one hand, and
poetic inventiveness, on the other, may have been responsible for
all this we can hardly say. It seems probable that here, as in the
development of so many Greek myths, on the whole the balance of
invention lay on the side of the poets. Purely poetic visions or
pictures like that of the _translation_ of individual heroes to
Elysium may have gradually won their way to popular acceptance.
"Dearest Harmodios," said the Athenian Skolion, "thou art not dead
indeed, but livest yet, men say, in the Islands of the Blest." Not
that there was anything fixed or dogmatic on the point. In a funeral
oration Hyperides represents Leosthenes and his companions in battle
as meeting in Hades, among the illustrious dead, the Tyrannicides,
Harmodios and Aristogeiton.[5\7]
Much that may have been the invention of poets for the filling up or
furnishing of the desert region so stamped itself upon the general
mind that it almost seemed the natural growth of authentic popular
belief. Everyone was familiar with the guardian of the gate of
Plouton, the malignant hound of Hades who admits everyone but lets
no one out again. He is the same creature, long known from the
adventure of Herakles, which is already named Kerberos by
Hesiod.[6\7] Like the gate and the gate-keeper, the waters that
divide Erebos from the world of the living are already known to
Homer. Now they have a Ferryman added to them, the churlish old man
Charon, who, like a second Kerberos, safely transports everyone
across the water, but lets no one return.[7\7] The _Minyas_ is the
first to mention him: that he became a real figure of popular belief
(as he is still in Greece to this day, though with altered
significance is shown by pictures on the Attic vases that were put
into the graves with the dead. These represent the soul as it stands
upon the sedgy bank and meets the ferryman who will carry it over to
the other side whence no man returns.[8\7] The custom of burying the
dead with a small coin fixed between the teeth was also explained as
provision for the passage-money that would have to be paid to
Charon.[9\7] {238}
§ 2
The soul, then, being safely arrived on the other bank and Kerberos
passed by--what awaited it there? Those who had been initiated into
the mysteries now counted upon enjoying the glad future that their
hopes had formerly pictured. In reality this blessed future,
vouchsafed by the grace of the deities who rule below, was not very
hard to obtain. So many were initiated and recommended to divine
favour that the picture of Hades, once so gloomy, began to assume a
more genial aspect. Quite early we meet with the general name of
"Blessedness" as applied to the future life; while the dead without
much distinction are called the "Blessed".[10\7]
Of course, anyone who had been so foolish as to neglect or despise
initiation has "not the same fate below", as the _Hymn to Demeter_
discreetly puts it. Only the initiated have life, says Sophokles:
the uninitiated, with whom it goes ill in the land below, can hardly
have been thought of otherwise than as floating in the glimmering
half-life of the shadows in the Homeric Erebos. Well-meaning modern
efforts to read a moral meaning into things Greek have sought to
prove that the Greeks, too, had a genuine popular belief in a future
judgment and recompense for the past deeds and character of the
dead. Homer makes hardly the most distant allusion to such a belief.
The perjurer alone suffers in Homer the punishment at the hands of
the gods of the underworld which he had invoked upon himself in his
oath. Even the "Sinners" and their punishment which later imitation
added to the story of Odysseus' Journey to Hades, considered without
prejudice, do not support the opinion that Homeric poetry knew of a
belief in retribution hereafter. Later poets were only following
this model when they made other enemies of the gods endure eternal
punishment in Hades--Thamyris, for example, or Amphion (as the
_Minyas_ related), and later Ixion in particular.[11\7] All this
does not, even in the slightest degree, suggest a general belief in
future rewards and punishment. Of course, there is the judgment that
is given in Hades by "One" according to Pindar (_Ol._ ii, 65), but
this occurs in connexion with a description of the "last things"
which the poet has borrowed from the teachings of mystic
separatists. Aeschylus[12\7] knows of a judgment pronounced by Hades
himself; but his thoughts about divine retribution both on earth and
hereafter are derived from his own religious temperament which was
entirely opposed to the popular beliefs of his day and more inclined
to accept the speculative doctrines of the theologians. The {239}
first precise account of the three judges in Hades, Minos,
Rhadamanthys, and Aiakos, who judge the deeds of men done in their
lifetime upon earth occurs in Plato in a description of the other
world which reproduces anything rather than the popular beliefs of
the time.[13\7] Later on, the picture of the judges in Hades (to
whom Triptolemos was also added),[14\7] like many other details of
the Platonic eschatological myths, became a real part of popular
fancy, as allusions in later literature and even, perhaps, pictures
of the underworld on vase-paintings from Southern Italy, bear
witness. But the idea that in the supreme period of Greek culture
the belief in a judgment and judges in Hades, who passed sentence on
the deeds of men done on earth, had really any root in popular
belief, is quite unproved and can be shown to be erroneous from the
argument _ex silentio_. And where there are no judges no judgment
can take place.
We often see it asserted that the belief in a future state of
compensation for the good and evil deeds of this world was obtained
by the Greeks from the Eleusinian mysteries. In reality the opposite
is true; if and in so far as the Greeks ever received or entertained
such a belief in future rewards and punishments the mysteries of
Eleusis had nothing whatever to do with the matter. We have only to
remember the simple fact that the Eleusinian mysteries admitted to
initiation, with the single exception of those stained by the crime
of murder, Greeks of all sorts without any inquiry into their past
life and actions, or even their character. The initiated were
promised a blessed life hereafter; a gloomy fate awaited the
uninitiated. The difference was not made by goodness or badness;
"Pataikion the thief will have a better fate after his death because
he has been initiated at Eleusis than Agesilaos or Epameinondas"
sneered Diogenes the Cynic. Not political or moral worth but
"spiritual" merit alone is decisive. Nor will anyone be very
surprised at that. It is so in most religions. But in any case, the
idea of a sentence passed on virtue or vice in Hades had been
forestalled by the system of rewards and punishments in the lower
world which the mysteries had already formulated from quite a
different point of view. Where the mysteries were seriously and
conscientiously taken they would rather have thrown their weight
into the scales against any such idea, if it began to make itself
felt, of compensation for good and evil deeds in Hades; they
certainly contained nothing that fostered such a belief.
No doubt in the long run, among a spiritually alert people, {240}
the morality inculcated by religion allied itself freely and without
reluctance to the morality of the citizen in its independent
development. Only in this way could the former maintain its
ascendancy. Thus, in the minds of many of the Greeks the idea of
religious justification (through the mysteries) may have lent its
support to the idea of civic just dealing; and, at the same time,
the company of the unblest who had neglected the sacred mysteries
and their future salvation as well, was increased by the not
unimportant body of those who receive the wages of sin in Hades and
expiate their crimes against the gods, the family, and the civil
society of men. Those who have taken a false oath, parricides,
violators of the laws of hospitality are made by Aristophanes (in
the _Frogs_) to "lie in the mud"--a form of penalty originally
anticipated for the uninitiated in some Orphic private mysteries,
but now transferred by him to those guilty of moral
misdemeanours.[15\7] The inconsistency with the promises made in the
mysteries themselves involved in such conceptions may have been the
less observed just because the idea of a future system of
compensation in accordance with the requirements of morality was
never seriously or fully developed, but remained merely a matter of
vague suggestion. In circumstances of real need that ideal never
satisfied anyone in Greece. Men expected to see the retributive
power of the gods visibly active upon earth; those in whom
experience weakened this belief would not have derived much comfort
from the idea of compensation hereafter. Everyone knows the typical
case of Diagoras, the "Atheist".[16\7]
§ 3
The picturing of the future life, however seriously it might be
carried on by adherents of certain mystical sects, remained for the
poets and the public at Athens in the fifth century little more than
an amusement of idle fancy in which a man might indulge his own whim
with perfect freedom. The comic poets from Pherekrates onwards
regarded a Descent into the Unknown country as a suitable framework
for a burlesque play.[17\7] According to their fancy a Paradise,
like that of the golden age on earth when Kronos still ruled,
awaited the "Blessed" in the world below;[18\7] a "City of
Delight"[19\7] such as men hoped to meet with at the ends of the
world, or even somewhere upon the real world. It is from a comedy,
the _Frogs_ of Aristophanes, in connexion with the Descent to Hades
of a typical commonplace Athenian citizen, who for the time being
plays the part of Dionysos, that we get a clearer outline of the
geography of the lower regions. Beyond {241} the Acherousian Sea
with its cross-grained ferryman dwell snakes and monsters of all
kinds. Having passed by the darkness and putrescence of the slough
in which wallow perjurers and those who have committed crimes
against father or stranger, the way leads to the palace of Plouton,
near which lives the chorus of those who have been initiated into
the mysteries. For them even in Hades the sun dispenses a brilliant
light; they dance in myrtle groves and sing to the sound of the
flute hymns of praise to the gods of the underworld.[20\7] A
separation of the inhabitants of the lower regions into two classes
as taught by the mysteries, is here also carried through: at least
clear consciousness is implied in the case of the Mystai which in
itself marks clearly the change which has taken place since the
Nekyia of the Odyssey. Then there are other regions in Hades besides
the places where the initiated and the impious dwell. There is a
reference to the plain of Lethe,[21\7] and to the place where Oknos
is plaiting the rope which his she-ass gnaws to pieces as fast as he
plaits it. This is a parody, half humorous, half pathetic, of the
Homeric figures of Sisyphos and Tantalos; a sort of bourgeois
counterpart of that Homeric aristocracy of the enemies of heaven,
whose punishment, as Goethe remarked, is a type of ever-unrewarded
labour. But, we may ask, what had honest Oknos done to deserve this
fate of eternally fruitless toil? He is only a man like other men,
but he "typifies all human endeavour." That anyone could have
introduced such quaint inventions of innocent humour into the realm
of Hades shows how far all this was from theological seriousness.
§ 4
We ought to be able to observe the change which had come over the
conception of the future life since the days of Homer from a
consideration of the picture of the Underworld which Polygnotos of
Thasos painted on one of the walls of the Hall of the Knidians at
Delphi. The details of this picture are precisely known to us from
the account given by Pausanias. The first impression that we get
from it is the extraordinary vagueness and undeveloped state of the
mythology of the underworld at this period, about the middle of the
fifth century. On the wall was represented the questioning of
Teiresias by Odysseus; the companies of heroes, the men and women of
poetry, occupied the greater part of the space. The divine judgment
of heaven was illustrated by the figures of the Homeric "Sinners",
Tityos, Tantalos, and Sisyphos. Outside the ranks of the Heroic
company is Oknos and his {212} she-ass. But where is the reward of
virtue, the punishment of wickedness? In expiation of the worst
excesses, those committed against gods and parents, a temple-robber
receives a cup of poison from a sorceress,[22\7] and an undutiful
son is being choked by his own father.[23\7] Apart from these
evil-doers are the "uninitiated", those who have made light of the
Eleusinian mysteries. Because they have missed the "completion" of
the initiation they are now forced, men and women, to pour water
from broken pitchers into a (perforated) jar in ever-unavailing
endeavour.[24\7] There is no sign anywhere of a judge who should
separate the souls into two classes; and of the monsters of the
underworld there only appears the corpse-devouring daimon Eurynomos
who must have been known to the artist from some local legend.[25\7]
Of the reward of the "virtuous" there is not a trace, and even the
hopes of the initiated in the mysteries are only vaguely alluded to
in the casket which Kleoboia, as she crosses the river in Charon's
boat with Tellis, is holding on her knee.[26\7] This is a symbol of
the sacred mysteries of Demeter which Kleoboia once brought from
Paros to Thasos, the home of Polygnotos.
With this series of pictures, hardly altered at all from
Homer,[27\7] contrast for a moment the scenes of torment represented
in Etruscan pictures of the Underworld, or the pedantic details of
the trial of the dead on the day of judgment as the Egyptians
elaborated them in picture and writing. From such gloomy severity,
from the rigid and overpowering dogmatism that a people without
imagination had constructed for itself out of religious speculations
and visions won by much labour and thought, the Greeks were
fortunately preserved by their own genius. Their fancy is a winged
god whose nature it is to pass lightly over things--not to fall
heavily to earth and there remain ponderously prostrate. Nor were
they very susceptible during their best centuries to the infectious
malady of a "sick conscience". What had they to do with pictures of
an underworld of purgatory and torment in expiation of all imaginary
types and degrees of sin, as in Dante's ghastly Hell? It is true
that even such dark fancies of the Christian Hell are in part
derived from Greek sources. But it was only the misguided fancy of
particular isolated sects that could call forth such pictures as
these, and recommend itself to a philosophic speculation which in
its worst excesses violently contradicted all the most fundamental
principles of Greek culture. The people and the religion of Greece,
the mysteries which her cities organized and deemed holy, may be
freely acquitted of all such aberrations.
NOTES TO CHAPTER VII
[1\7: Plu. (the MSS. wrongly give Themistios) _de An. fr._ 6 ap.
Stob., _Fl._ iv, 52 b, 48 H. = p. 107, 27 ff. Mein.; Luc., _Catapl._
23.]
[2\7: Paus. 9, 31, 5.]
[3\7: The remains in Kinkel, _Frag. Epic._ i, 215 ff. This ~Minua/s~
was identified by K. O. Müller, _Orchom_^2., p. 12, with the Orphic
~kata/basis eis Ha/idou~, and this suggestion has been followed,
though with hesitation, even by Lobeck, _Agl._ 360, 373. It rests
solely on the fact that the Orphic ~kata/basis~ was very doubtfully
ascribed according to Clemens to Prodikos of Samos, according to
Suidas to Herodikos of Perinthos (or to Kerkops, or to Orpheus of
Kamarina); while the Minyas, according to Paus. 4, 33, 7, was very
doubtfully ascribed to Prodikos of Phokaia. Müller first identified
Prodikos of Samos with Herodikos of Perinthos, and then both of them
with Prodikos of Phokaia. The justification of such a procedure is
by no means "self-evident" and the identification--entirely
depending upon this quite arbitrary view--of the Orphic ~kata/basis
eis Ha/idou~ with the Minyas is in the last degree hazardous. Such
an alternative title to an ancient narrative poem can only be
defended by fictitious and quite untenable parallels. The name
~Minua/s~ has no parallel in Orphic literature, and suggests rather
a poem dealing with heroic adventure in which the Nekyia would only
be an episode. If we are to believe in the double title we require
at least to be told how the name (Minyas) could possibly have been
given to a poem whose contents as implied by the title ~kata/basis
eis Ha/idou~ plainly consisted in a descent to Hades--made by
Orpheus himself (as Lobeck also understands, p. 373). Besides,
everything we learn about the Nekyia of the Minyas differs widely
from the temper and doctrine of Orphism, which should have
manifested themselves very distinctly in such a vision of the life
to come. Nor is anything from the Minyas given elsewhere under the
name of Orpheus, like so many of the details of underworld
mythology. There is nothing to suggest that it was Orpheus who
sought the _atra atria Ditis_: an unprejudiced interpretation of
_fr._ 1 (ap. Paus. 10, 28, 2) would suggest that it was rather
Theseus and Peirithoos whose descent to Hades supplied the framework
for the Hades episode in the poem. There is then not the slightest
justification for including the Minyas in the list of Orphic poems
or for citing what is known of its contents as Orphic mythological
doctrine (which last Lobeck himself did not do: he knew too well the
real nature and meaning of Orphism). Cf. Dümmler, _Delphika_, p. 19
(Bas. 1894).]
[4\7: Allusions in the Iliad and Odyssey presuppose the existence of
an old poem on the journey to Hades of Herakles: how he was
commissioned by Eurystheus, conducted by Athene (and Hermes), went
down below and wounded Hades himself and carried off the dog of
Hades. Many hands must subsequently have taken part in filling in
the details of the adventure: we cannot, however, definitely name
the poet who gave its final form and character to the whole. As far
as the individual features of the poem are known to us (esp. from
the survey given in [Apollod.], 2, 12. _Myth. Gr._, 2, 122 ff. W.,
combining both early and late mythological characteristics), they
are rather the features of a vigorous story of heroic adventure,
full of movement and tending to the gruesome and the
extravagant--not of a static or {244} tranquil narrative that would
allow of the calm reception of pictures illustrating the quiet
ordinary life and events of frequent occurrence in the mysterious
world of darkness. In this respect the ~kata/basis~ of Herakles in
its traditional form must have differed noticeably from the Nekyia
in ~l~, as well as from the Minyas. In fact, not one of the fabulous
details current in later times about Hades can be traced back to a
description in the Herakles adventure (even "Kerberos" seems to have
got his name elsewhere.]
[5\7: Hyperides, _Epit._ § 35-9 = p. 92 f. (Blass^3): Leosthenes
will meet ~en Ha/idou~ the Heroes of the Trojan war, the Persian
war, and also Harmodios and Aristogeiton. This is a stereotyped
rhetorical idea: cf. Pl., _Ap._ 41 A-C. An epigram from Knossos on a
Cretan who has distinguished himself in a cavalry battle (_BCH._
1889, p. 60, ll. 1-2, after Simon., _Ep._ 99, 3-4 Bgk.), ll. 9-10:
~tou/neka/ se phthime/nôn kath' homê/gurin ho kluto\s Ha/dês i/se
polissou/chô| su/nthronon Idomenei=~.]
[6\7: Kerberos is first named in Hes., _Th._ 311, and he is the same
hound of Hades which Homer knows and leaves unnamed, as Hesiod does,
_Th._ 769 ff. According to this account he admits everyone, fawning
about them and wagging his tail: but anyone who tries to slip out of
Hades again he devours. That Kerberos inspires terror in those who
enter Hades is therefore a conception of later ages (when his name
was sometimes derived from the fact that he ~ta\s kê=ras, ho\ dêloi=
ta\s psucha/s, e/chei bora/n~: Porph. ap. Eus., _PE._ 3, 11, 11, p.
110 A, etc.): the superstitious are afraid ~tô=| Kerbe/rô|
diada/knesthai~ (Plu., _N.P._ _Suav. Ep._ 1105 A; cf. Verg., _A._
vi, 401; Apul., _Met._ i, 15 fin.). The honey cakes given to those
who enter Hades are intended to pacify him (Sch. Ar., _Lys._ 601;
Verg., _A._ vi, 420; Ap., _Met._ vi, 19). It cannot be proved that
this is an _ancient_ conception (certainly not from the absurd
invention of Philochoros, _fr._ 46, to which Dieterich, _Nekyia_,
49, appeals). Ar., _Lys._ 601, speaks of the ~melitou=tta~ for the
dead without suggesting any such purpose; and in fact honeycakes
would hardly be a satisfactory bait to a dog: they rather suggest
offerings for underworld snakes (as in the cave of Trophonios, Ar,
_Nu._ 507; for the Asklepios-snake, Herond. iv, 90-1) and for
spirits appearing as snakes (and hence customary at offerings for
the dead, and even e.g. according to the precepts of the
~rhizoto/moi~ when digging up medicinal plants, Thphr., _HP._ 9, 8,
7). In the lines of Sophokles, _OC._ 1574 ff., Löschcke, _Aus der
Unterwelt_, p. 9 (Progr. Dorpat, 1888) finds an expression of the
idea that there was need of pacifying Kerb. in his rage against
souls entering Hades. In reality nothing of the kind is even
suggested there. The traditional text is unintelligible, and is
emended and interpreted with probable correctness by Nauck (~do/s~
instead of ~ho/n~). Adopting this correction the words express a
prayer of the Chorus addressed to a child of Tartaros and Ge, who is
called ~ho aie/nupnos~, which must mean "who sends to everlasting
sleep" (not "who sleeps for ever")--(or to separate ~pai=s Ga=s kai\
Tarta/rou~ from ~aie/nupnos~ as the Schol. would do, is impossible.
The ~aie/nupnos~, as the Schol. has already noticed, can hardly be
anyone else than Thanatos (it would be an unintelligible epithet for
Hesychos, of whom L. thinks). Thanatos, however, is nowhere else
called son of Tartaros and Ge (nor is Hesychos, while Typhon and
Echidna are, though the adj. would not suit them; who else besides
Soph., _OC._ 40, calls the Erinyes daughters of Ge and Skotos?). The
Chorus pray to him (acc. to Nauck's correction) to grant Oedipus a
safe passage in his journey to Hades. Terrors of all kinds were to
be met with on the way there, ~o/pheis kai\ thêri/a~ (Ar., _Ra._ 143
ff., 278 ff.; we may also remember Verg., {245} _A._ vi, 273 ff.,
285 ff., etc.): that Kerberos is among these terrors is suggested by
Soph. as little as it is by Aristoph. in the _Frogs_. In fact, Soph.
had spoken of him a few lines before (1569 ff.) in words which
suggest anything rather than danger to those who enter Hades.
Sophokles, then, cannot be made to serve as witness for the view
that the Greeks thought of Kerberos after the manner of the two
piebald dogs of the Indian Yama that terrify and drive back the
dead. Further, there is no good evidence for a Greek tradition of
_two_ hounds of Hell. Nor can it be proved by the case adduced by
Löschcke: the picture on a sarcophagus from Klazomenai of a naked
boy holding a cock in each hand and standing between two (female
dogs that leap round him (in a manner suggesting play rather than
anger). The picture can hardly have a mythical sense. This cannot
give support to the view (as old as Wilford) that ~Ke/rberos~ is no
other than one of the two piebald (çabala) dogs of Yama and a
creation of primitive Indo-Germanic times. In any case, the evidence
is weak enough. See Gruppe, _Gr. Culte u. Mythen_, i, 113-14;
Oldenberg, _Rel. d. Veda_, 538 [= 459 Fr. T.].]
[7\7: Agatharch. p. 115, 14 ff. Müll., says that it is a popular
belief ~tô=n ouke/ti o/ntôn tou\s tu/pous en porthmi/di diaplei=n,
e/chontas Cha/rôna nau/klêron kai\ kubernê/tên, _hi/na mê\
katastraphe/ntes ekphora=s epide/ôntai pa/lin_~.]
[8\7: Cf. v. Duhn, _Arch. Zeit._ 1885, 19 ff.; _Jahrb. arch. Inst._
ii, 240 ff.]
[9\7: Charon's fare (2 obols instead of the otherwise usual one--the
difference not satisfactorily explained) is first mentioned in Ar.,
_Ran._ 140, 270. That this is the purpose of the money that was
inserted between the teeth of the dead is frequently asserted by
later authors. The many different names which were given to this
"Charon's penny" (~karka/dôn~, cf. Lobeck, _Prol. Path._ 351;
~katitê/rion, dana/kê~ and simply ~nau=lon~: see Hemsterh. _Lucian_,
ii, 514 ff.) show that this idea and the symbolism underlying it was
a favourite subject of speculation. In spite of this we may doubt
whether the custom of supplying the dead with a small coin has
really arisen out of the wish to give them the fare-penny for the
underworld ferryman. It is extremely doubtful whether Charon and his
boat can have been figures of such clear dogmatic fixity as to have
given rise to such a remarkable custom expressing itself in such a
literal fashion. The custom itself, now, it seems, attested in
Greece only from graves of a late period (see Ross. _Archäol. Aufs._
i, 29, 32, 57 Anm.; Raoul Rochette, _Mém. de l'Inst. de Fr., Ac. des
Ins._ xiii, p. 665 f.) must be ancient (though no older than the use
of coined money in Greece), and has held its own with the most
remarkable tenacity in many parts of the Roman Empire to a late
age--even through the Middle Ages to our own time (cf. among others
Maury, _La magie et l'astrol. dans l'antiq._ 158, 2). It is not very
hard to understand that it might be ingeniously connected with the
poetical story of the ferryman of the dead, and this plausible
explanation of the strange custom might then become a part of
popular belief. The custom itself ought rather to have been brought
into connexion with the practice common in many lands of satisfying
the requirements of the dead by the gift of some diminutive and all
but symbolical object which is offered at burial and put in the
grave (see something of the kind in Tylor, i, 193-4). Parva petunt
Manes: pietas pro divite grata est munere; non avidos Styx habet ima
deos. The obol may be the last symbolical vestige of the entire
property of the dead which the ancient law of the dead required to
be placed undiminished in their graves. ~tethnê/xê| . . . ek pollô=n
obolo\n {246} mou=non enegka/menos~: the epigram of Antiphanes
Maced. (_AP._ xi, 168) expresses more nearly perhaps, though in
sentimental language, the original and primitive intention of the
gift of an obol, than does the fable of Charon's penny (cf. _AP._
xi, 171, 7; 209, 3). According to German superstition "money should
be laid in the mouth of the dead man so that if he has buried a
treasure he may not return", Grimm, p. 1785, n. 207. Here the
undoubtedly ancient conception is quite clearly betrayed: that by
giving a coin the property of the dead was _bought up_. The evidence
for this first and proper meaning of the custom has been preserved
in the strangest fashion, together with the custom itself, even down
to the eighteenth century, when J. Chr. Männlingen voices it,
_Albertäten_ 353 (summarized in A. Schultz, _Alltagsleben e. d. Frau
im_ 18 _Jh._, p. 232 f.): this custom, common both to heathendom and
Christianity, of putting a penny in the coffin of the dead "means
that men buy up the property of the dead, whereby they think they
will have good luck in their life".]
[10\7: Ar., _Tagenist. fr._ 488, 9: ~dia\ tau=ta ga/r toi kai\
kalou=ntai (hoi ne/kroi\) maka/rioi; pa=s ga\r le/gei tis, _ho
makari/tês_ oi/chetai ktl., makari/tês~, then, was already, by that
time, a common expression for the dead which had lost its full sense
and value, just like the German "selig" (which is borrowed from
Greek). Strictly speaking it means a condition approaching the
existence of the ~ma/kares theoi\ aie\n eo/ntes~. The full meaning
still appears in the appeal to the heroized Persian monarch:
~makari/tas _isodai/môn_ basileu/s~, Aesch., _Pers._ 633 (~nu=n d'
esti\ ma/kaira dai/môn~, E., _Alc._ 1003); cf. also Xen., _Ages._
xi, 8, ~nomi/zôn tou\s eukleô=s teteleutêko/tas makari/ous~. Such
passages allow us to see that ~maka/rios, makari/tês~ were not used
of the dead in any sense ~kat' anti/phrasin~, as ~chrêsto/s~
sometimes is (Plu., _Q. Gr._ v, p. 292 B; though on grave inscr. it
is generally meant in its proper sense); cf. ~eukrinê/s~, Phot. Suid.
~makari/tês~ frequently occurs as applied to one lately dead in late
writers: see Ruhnken, _Tim._, p. 59. Lehrs, _Popul. Aufs_^2., p. 344.
Doric form ~zameri/tas~: Phot. ~makari/tas~. _~makari/a~_
"Blessedness", the land of the Blessed, i.e. the dead, is only used
in a humorous sense in such phrases as ~a/pag' es makari/an~ (Ar.
_Eq._ 1151), ~ba/ll' es makari/an~. So, too, is ~_es olbi/an_. hôs
eis makari/an; to\ eis ha/|dou~, Phot. (~makari/a~, the name of a
sacrificial cake--Harp. ~neê/lata~--occurs in modern Greek usage as
a cake used at funerals, Lob., _Agl._ 879).]
[11\7: The punishment of Ixion for his ingratitude to Zeus consisted
according to the older form of the story in his being fastened to a
winged wheel and then being whirled through the air. That Zeus
~etarta/rôsen~ him (Sch. Eur., _Ph._ 1185) must then be a later
story or one which did not become current till later: not until A.R.
iii, 61 f., is there any mention of Ixion in Hades, though after him
frequently; cf. Klügmann, _Annali d. Inst._, 1873, pp. 93-5. (The
analogy with the punishment of Tantalos and its displacement from
the upper world to Hades is obvious; see Comparetti, _Philol._ 32,
237.)]
[12\7: Aesch., _Eum._ 273 f.; cf. _Supp._ 230 f. The fact that in
this passage the poet says ~ekei= dika/zei ta\mplakê/math', _hôs
lo/gos_, Zeu\s a/llos~ simply shows that he is not simply following
his own ideas in this fancy of a judgment in the other world (~ouk
emo\s ho mu=thos~). It does not in the least suggest (as Dieterich,
_Nek._ 126, seems to think) that he is reproducing popular tradition
or could be so doing. Only theological doctrines, at that time at
least, knew anything of such a judgment in the future life upon the
deeds of this: it is _their_ ~lo/gos~ that Aesch. is following (in
this one point). See below, p. 425.]
[13\7: _Gorg._ 523 A ff. (whence _Axioch._ 371 B ff., etc.). When
Plato {247} keeps closer to popular belief, in _Ap._ 41 A, he speaks
of the judges in Hades, Minos, Rhadamanthys, Aiakos ~kai\
Tripto/lemos kai\ a/lloi ho/soi tô=n hêmithe/ôn di/kaioi ege/nonto
en tô=| heautô=n bi/ô|~. He says nothing of a judgment given on the
deeds done in this life, and clearly does not imply any decision as
to the good or evil deserts of those who have just left the upper
world and come down to Hades. We should be much rather led to
suppose that those ~alêthô=s dikastai/, hoi/per kai\ le/gontai ekei=
dika/zein~ exercise their powers as judges among the dead, too, and
decide between them in their disputes just as Minos does in the
Nekyia of ~l~ 568-71, and as Rhadamanthys still does in Pi., _O._
ii, 83 ff., on the ~maka/rôn na=sos~. Only the number of those who
have this wide authority below is extended (in Plato) almost
indefinitely. The process seems to have been as follows: the
allusions in the Odyssey were taken up and in the course of the
elaboration of the picture of Hades the number was enlarged of those
who like Minos are patterns of justice among the dead and give
judgment among them. Then philosophico-poetical speculation (perhaps
not without Egyptian influence) about a judgment in the next world
handed over to this increased number of judges in Hades the office
of judging the conduct during their lifetime of those who have just
entered Hades.--The selection of judges is not hard to understand.
Aiakos, Rhadamanthys, and Minos are regarded as patterns of justice:
Dem. 18, 127. Minos as judge in Hades was taken from ~l~ 568 ff.
Rhadamanthys is known to ~d~ 564 as dwelling among those who have
been translated alive to Elysion. There he is--not judge: there is
nothing there to judge, but--~pa/redros~ of Kronos, acc. to Pi.,
_O._ ii, 83. As soon as men began to transfer Elysion to Hades (of
which more later) Rhad. also found his place there. His fame as the
most just of judges (see Cratin., ~Chei/rônes~, 231 [i, p. 83 K.];
Pl., _Lg._ 948 B, etc.; cf. also Plu., _Thes._ 16 ad fin.) allowed
him easily to find his place next to Minos as judge over the dead.
Aiakos, too, as a model of ~euse/beia~ (Isoc. 9, 14, etc.), lawgiver
to Aegina, arbitrator among the gods themselves (Pi., _I._ viii, 24
f.), seemed naturally called to be a judge among the dead. His
position as judge, however, was never so secure as that of Minos and
Rhadamanthys. Pindar, though he often speaks of Aiakos and the
Aiakidai gives no hint of a special position held by Aiakos in the
next world. Isoc. 9, 15, ~le/getai para\ Plou/tôni kai\ Ko/rê|
megi/stas tima\s e/chôn paredreu/ein ekei/nois~ where nothing is
implied as to his office of judge but merely to the honour done to
Aiakos in being given a seat near the ruling pair (cf. Pi., _O._ ii,
83, of Rhad.; Ar., _Ra._ 765, there is a rule in Hades that the best
artist ~lamba/nei thro/non tou= Plou/tônos hexê=s~. Proedria of the
Mystai in Hades, etc.). Aiakos is ~kleidou=chos~ of Hades;
[Apollod.] 3, 12, 6, 10; _Epigr. Gr._, 646, 4; _P. Mag. Par._ 1264
ff.; ~pulôro/s~ (cf. Hades himself as ~pula/rtês~, ~Th~ 368) in
Luc., _D. Mort._ 13, 3; 20, 1, 6; 22, 3; _De Luct._ 4; _Philops._ 25
and Philostr., _VA._ 7, 31, p. 385 K. "Holder of the Key" is an
office of high distinction (suggested in the case of Aiakos perhaps
by the cult offered to him together with chthonic powers): keys
belong to many of the gods--Plouton himself, Paus. 5, 20, 3, and
others; see Tafel and Dissen on Pi., _P._ 8, 4; in _P. Mag. Par._
1403 comes the trimeter, ~kleidou=che Perse/phassa Tarta/rou ko/rê~.
It is difficult to believe that the attribution of this remarkable
office of distinction to Aiakos was a later invention than the
apparently commonplace office of judge. It seems, in fact, that
Eurip. in the _Peirithoos_ (_fr._ 591 N.) made Aiakos the first to
meet Herakles as he entered Hades, i.e. probably at the gate itself.
It can hardly be anything but a {248} reminiscence of Eurip. that
suggested (not to Aristoph. himself--see Hiller, _Hermes_ viii,
455--but to a well-read _grammaticus_) the name "Aiakos" as that of
the person who meets Herakles at the very gate of Plouton in the
_Frogs_ (l. 464). Just because the story of Aiakos' position as
holder of the key at the gate of Hades was an old one and mentioned
by respected authorities, the belief in his position as judge never
quite prevailed, in spite of Plato.]
[14\7: This is obviously Attic invention. Plato certainly mentions
Triptolemos in _addition_ to Minos and the other judges. But it
seems that to the Athenians Minos was unacceptable as a type of
justice (he was, especially on the stage, the object of bitter
attacks as an enemy of the country; see Plu., _Thes._ 16). and they
tried to _substitute_ their own Triptolemos for him in the triad of
judges. Thus we find Triptolemos not beside Minos but in his place
in a picture of the underworld on a vase from Altamura (Tript. Aiak.
Rhad.), and in an analogous picture on an amphora at Karlsruhe
(Aiak. Tript., the left side is broken off but prob. represented
Rhadamanthys not Minos). Cf. Winkler, _Darst. d. Unterwelt auf
unterital. Vasen_, p. 37. For the rest, nothing suggests that the
three judges on these vase-pictures pass judgment on the deeds of
men done in their _lifetime_: in strictness nothing is implied about
their giving judgments. What is certain is simply that they, as
types of justice, ~epi\ tai=si tou= Plou/tônos oikou=sin thu/rais~
(like the Mystai in Ar., _Ra._ 163): they enjoy the rights of
~pa/redoi~ of the divine pair, and hence they are _seated_ on
~thro/noi~ or ~di/phroi~.]
[15\7: Ar., _Ra._ 145 ff., 273 ff. "Darkness and mud," ~sko/tos kai\
bo/rboros~, as manner and place of punishment for ~amu/êtoi kai\
ate/lestoi~, are derived from _Orphic_ teaching: Pl., _Rp._ 363 D;
Olympiod. on Pl., _Phd._ 69 C. By an inaccurate extension of meaning
this fate was said to threaten _all_ ~ate/lestoi~ without
distinction: Plu. ~p. psuchê=s~ ap. Stob. _Fl._ 120, 28 (4, 108, 2
Mein.); Aristid., _Eleus._, p. 421 D. = ii, 30 Keil; Plot., 1, 6, 6.
Plotinos undoubtedly has the right interpretation of the reason for
this strange form of punishment: the mud in which the uninitiated
lie marks them out as ~mê\ kekatharme/nous~ who have not shared in
the purifications such as were offered by the Orphic initiation
ceremonies. Hence they remain fixed for ever in their original
foulness (and in darkness because of their ignorance of the
~thei=a~). It is, in fact, an _allegorical_ punishment which has no
meaning outside the range of Orphic doctrines of _katharsis_ and
atonement. Aristoph. transfers it to those who have seriously
transgressed the laws of city or religion, for whom it was
unsuitable: this only shows that an appropriate penalty in Hades for
crimes against civil society had not yet been invented. It had
evidently been thought sufficient to say generally that the
~asebei=s~ (or at least the more heinous offenders) would be
punished in Hades. This commonplace form of the opinion is probably
to be regarded as a final echo of some definite theological doctrine
which had become vulgarized and emptied of distinct meaning among
the general public of the profane. The author of the first speech
against Aristogeiton ([D.] 25) who speaks of the ~eis tou\s asebei=s
ôsthê=nai~ in Hades (53), confesses himself an adherent of Orpheus
(11).--The ~memuême/noi~ dwell in Hades next to the palace of
Plouton himself: Ar., _Ra._ 162 f., where they have the privilege of
~proedri/a~, D.L., vi, 39. When a distinction between a ~chô=ros
eusebô=n~ and a ~chô=ros asebô=n~ in Hades began to be made, the
initiated, in order that they might not be deprived of their
privileged position, were given ~proedri/a~ in the ~ch. eusebô=n~.
In this way, e.g. the author of the _Axioch._ 371 D (who {249} can
hardly have written before the third century) tries to reconcile the
hopelessly contradictory pretensions of the ~eusebei=s~ and
~memuême/noi~ to reward in Hades.]
[16\7: Sex. Emp., _M._ ix, 53. Suid. ~Diago/ras~.]
[17\7: Descents to Hades occurred in the ~Krapa/taloi~ of Pherecr.
(i, p. 167 K.); the ~Ba/trachoi~ and ~Gêruta/dês~ of Ar.; [Pherecr.]
~Metall.~ (i, p. 174 K.); and probably also in the ~Trophô/nios~ of
Cratin., etc.--On a vase from Eretria, fifth century, there is a
representation of a repulsive scene of torture; an old woman, naked
and tied to a tree, is being tortured by three satyrs. This,
according to J. Zingerle, _Archäol. epigr. Mittheil. a.
Oesterreich_, 18, 162 ff., is a parody of some incident from a
comedy of the time, the plot of which was laid in Hades. But nothing
in the picture suggests that the lower regions are the scene of this
gruesome affair; and what would the satyrs be doing there?]
[18\7: Utopian existence in Hades; see in partic. [Pherecr.]
~Metall.~ (i, p. 174 K.). A pretext for such parodies was perhaps
given by the Orphic promise of an everlasting carouse for the
initiated at the ~sumpo/sion tô=n hosi/ôn~ in Hades (Pl., _Rp._ ii,
263 C, ~maka/rô=n euôchi/a~, Ar., _Ra._ 85). Many details were
borrowed from the descriptions of the reign of bliss upon earth in
the golden age under Kronos' rule which had long been a familiar
subject of comedy (cf. Pöschel, _Das Märchen vom Schlaraffenland_, 7
ff.). The golden age in the dim past and the land of Elysion in the
future always had many features in common. (See above, chap. ii, n.
49.) From these traditional pictures of a spirit-world only to be
met with in the long-vanished past or in the next world, the whole
Greek literature of imaginary Utopias drew its sustenance (see my
_Griech. Roman_, ii, § 2, 3). That literature was really an attempt
to transpose those early fantasies of a land of spirits into real
life and on to the inhabited world.]
[19\7: ~e/sti g' eudai/môn po/lis para\ tê\n eruthra\n tha/lattan~,
Ar., _Av._ 144 f. (cf. _Griech. Roman_, 201 ff.).]
[20\7: ~li/mnê~ (the Acherousian lake: Eur., _Alc._ 443, and often
afterwards). Charon: Ar., _Ra._ 137 ff., 182 ff., 185 ff.--~sko/tos
kai\ bo/rboros~ 144 ff., 278 ff., 289 ff. Abode and life of the
Mystai: 159, 163, 311 ff., 454 ff.]
[21\7: ~to\ Lê/thês pedi/on~, l. 186. This is the earliest reference
to Lethe of which we can be quite sure; but it is made so casually
that it is obvious that Aristoph. is merely alluding to a story well
known to his audience. Plato makes use of the ~Lê/thês pedi/on~
together with the ~Ame/lês potamo/s~ (hence 621 C: ~Lê/thês
potamo/s~) in the myth at the close of the _Republic_, x, 621 A,
which is intended to illustrate and support the theory of
_palingenesia_. Of course, this ingenious fancy was eminently
suitable for use by adherents of the doctrine of metempsychosis; but
there is nothing to show that it had been actually _invented_ for
the special benefit of this doctrine, i.e. by Orphics or
Pythagoreans--as many have supposed. It is probable that it was
nothing more originally but an attempt to explain symbolically the
unconscious condition of the ~amenêna\ ka/rêna~. Does Theognis
already (704, 705) refer to it?--~Persepho/nên . . . hê/te bro/tois
pare/chei _lê/thên_, bla/ptousa no/oio~. Other references to the
~Lê/thês pu/lai, La/thas do/moi, Lê/thês hu/dôr~ are all later; the
~Lê/thês thro/nos~ in the account of Theseus' journey to Hades in
[Apollod.] _Epit._ i, 24, is perhaps taken from older legendary
material. (Bergk's assertion, _Opusc._ ii, 716: "The conception of
Lethe's fountain and stream is _certainly_ ancient and popular: the
well of Lethe is nothing but the fountain of the gods: whoever
drinks of it forgets all sorrows, etc.," {250} is entirely devoid of
foundation in fact.) The river of Lethe was in later times localized
on earth like Acheron and Styx; in the R. Limia of Gallaecia--far
away on the western sea--men rediscovered the _Oblivionis flumen_
(account of the year 137 B.C.: Liv., _Epit._ 55; Flor. 1, 33, 12;
App., _Hisp._ 72: Plu., _QR._ 34, p. 272 D; cf. Mela, 3, § 10;
Plin., _NH._ 4, § 115. Absurd aetiology in Strabo, p. 153).]
[22\7: This is presumably the meaning of the words which Pausanias
(10, 28, 5) uses: his absurd mannerism makes him talk round the
incident instead of simply describing it. (Much too artificial
explanation of the circumstance in Dümmler, _Delphika_, p. 15
[1894].)]
[23\7: Paus. 10, 28, 4.]
[24\7: See Appendix iii.]
[25\7: Eurynomos: dark-blue body like a bluebottle, with prominent
teeth, sitting on a vulture's skin, Paus. 10, 28, 7. There seems to
be no mention of him in literature: whether the statement of
Pausanias that he was a ~dai/môn tô=n en Ha/idou~ who eats the flesh
of corpses off their bones, is anything more than a guess, we cannot
tell. The vulture-skin indeed suggests that the nature of the Daimon
who sits on it was related to the vulture. The fact that the vulture
eats the flesh of corpses was often observed by the ancients **(see
Plu., _Rom._ 9, etc.: Leemans on Horapollo, p. 177). Welcker (_Kl.
Schr._ v, 117) sees in Eurynomos nothing but the "corruption" of the
body, in which case he would be a purely allegorical figure. On the
contrary he is much more likely to be one of those very concretely
imagined spirits of Hell (only with a euphemistic name, like the
lesser spirits Lamia, Mormo, Gorgyra, Empousa, etc. (a word about
them will be found below, Append. vi). The artist must have known him
from some local tradition. He devours the flesh of the corpse: thus
a late epigram (_Epigr. Gr._ 647, 16) calls the dead ~luprê\n dai=ta
Cha/rôni~. Even in Soph., _El._ 542, we have; ~Ha/idês hi/meron
te/knôn tô=n ekei/nês e/sche _dai/sasthai_~ (Welcker, _Syll._, p.
94).]
[26\7: Paus. 10, 28, 3. Cf. O. Jahn, _Hermes_, iii, 326.]
[27\7: The third century vase-paintings from Southern Italy also as
a rule keep within the limits of the epic Nekyia. In addition to the
few special types of the sinners undergoing punishment in Hades
(Sisyphos, Tantalos, the Danaids) we have allusions to the journeys
to Hades of Theseus, Peirithoos, Herakles, and Orpheus. All attempts
to read mystical or edifying intentions into these (as in
Baumeister's _Denkm._ 1926-30) are now regarded as completely
mistaken. (Orpheus appears there not as founder and prophet of his
mysteries but simply as the mythical singer who goes down to the
underworld to rescue Eurydike with his singing. This is rightly
maintained by Milchhöfer, _Philol._ 53, 385 ff., 54, 750 f., against
Kuhnert, _Arch. Jahrb._ viii, 104 ff.; _Philol._ 54, 193.) Nothing
at all is suggested as to the fate of mankind in general. On a vase
from Canosa a father and mother with a boy stand on the left of
Orpheus: this, too, must belong to the region of mythology. (They
cannot, however, be Dionysos and Ariadne as Winkler suggests,
_Darst. d. Unterw. auf unterit. Vasen_, 49. But it is difficult to
imagine that they can be a family of Mystai as Milchhöfer
supposes.)]
PART II
{{253}}
CHAPTER VIII
ORIGINS OF THE BELIEF IN IMMORTALITY
THE THRACIAN WORSHIP OF DIONYSOS
The popular conception of the continued existence of the souls of
the dead, resting upon the cult of the dead, grew up and coalesced
with a view of the soul derived from Homeric teaching on the
subject, which was in essential, though unrecognized, contradiction
with the cult of souls. The popular conception, unchanged in all
essentials, remained in force throughout the coming centuries of
Greek life. It did not contain within itself the seeds of further
development; it did not make any demand for better and deeper ideas
of the character and condition of the soul in its independent life
after its separation from the body. Still more, it had nothing in it
that could have led beyond the belief in the independent future life
of those souls to the conception of an everlasting, indestructible,
immortal life. The continued life of the soul, such as was implied
in and guaranteed by the cult of souls, was entirely bound up with
the remembrance of the survivors upon earth, and upon the care, the
cult, which they might offer to the soul of their departed ancestor.
If that memory dies out, if the venerating thoughtfulness of the
living ceases, the soul of the departed is at once deprived of the
sole element in which it still maintained its shadow of an
existence.
It was impossible, then, that the cult of the souls should produce
out of itself the idea of a true immortality of the soul or of the
independent life of the soul indestructible by its very nature.
Greek religion as it existed among the people of Homer could not
shape such a belief of its own accord, and even if it were offered
from outside could not have accepted it. It would have meant giving
up its own essential character.
If the soul is immortal, it must be in its essential nature like
God; it must itself be a creature of the realm of Gods. When a Greek
says "immortal" he says "God": they are interchangeable ideas. But
the real first principle of the religion of the Greek people is
this--that in the divine ordering of the world, humanity and
divinity are absolutely divided in place and nature, and so they
must ever remain. A deep {254} gulf is fixed between the worlds of
mortality and divinity. The relations between man and God promoted
by religion depend entirely upon this distinction. The ethical ideas
of the Greek popular conscience were rooted in the frank admission
of the limitations proper to human capacity which was conditioned by
an existence and a fate so different from that enjoyed by the gods;
in the renunciation of all human claims to happiness and
independence. Poetic fancies about the "Translation" of individual
mortals to an unending life enjoyed by the soul still united to the
body might make their appeal to popular belief; but such things
remained _miracles_ in which divine omnipotence had broken down the
barriers of the natural order on a special occasion. It was but a
miracle, too, if the souls of certain mortals were raised to the
rank of Heroes, and so promoted to everlasting life. The gulf
between the human and the divine was not made any narrower on that
account; it remained unbridged, abysmal. The bare idea that the gulf
did not in reality exist, that actually in the order of nature the
inner man, the "Soul" of man belonged to the realm of gods; that as
a divine being it had everlasting life--such an idea would involve
further consequences about which no one can be in much doubt: it
would have contradicted every single idea of Greek popular religion.
It never could have become widely held and believed in by the Greek
populace.
Nevertheless, at a certain period in Greek history, and nowhere
earlier or more unmistakably than in Greece, appeared the idea of
the divinity, and the immortality implicit in the divinity, of the
human soul. That idea belonged entirely to _mysticism_--a second
order of religion which, though little remarked by the religion of
the people and by orthodox believers, gained a footing in isolated
sects and influenced certain philosophical schools. Thence it has
affected all subsequent ages and has transmitted to East and West
the elementary principles of all true mysticism: the essential unity
of the divine and the human spirit; their unification as the aim of
religion; the divine nature of the human soul and its immortality.
The theory and doctrine of mysticism grew up in the soil of an older
cult-practice. Greece received from abroad a deeply emotional
religious cult, accompanied by practices that stimulated mysterious
and extraordinary imaginings. The sparks of momentary illumination
struck out by this faith were fed and fanned by mysticism till they
became a vivid and enduring flame. For the first time, clearly {255}
discernible through its mystical wrappings, we meet with the belief
in the indestructibility and eternal life of the soul: we meet it in
the doctrines of a mystical sect which united in the worship of
Dionysos. The worship of Dionysos must have sown the first seed of
the belief in an immortal life of the soul. To explain how this may
have happened; to make clear to the mind of the reader how the
essence and inner reality of that worship was bound to stir up the
belief in an immortal life--such is our next task.
§ 2
In the spiritual life of men and nations, it is not by any means the
extravagant or, in one sense or another, the abnormal that is most
difficult for our sympathetic understanding to grasp. By clinging to
a traditional and too narrow formula for the Greek spirit we make
difficulties for ourselves; but it is not really a matter of serious
perplexity, if we reflect upon it, to understand how Greek religion
at the height of its development regarded "madness" (~mani/a~) as a
religious phenomenon of wide-reaching importance. Madness, in this
sense, is a temporary destruction of physical balance, a condition
in which the self-conscious spirit is overwhelmed, "possessed" by a
foreign power, as our authorities explain it to us. This madness
"which comes not from mortal weakness or disease, but from a divine
banishment of the commonplace"[1\8] found effective application in
the _mantic_ and _telestic_ arts. Its effects were so common and
well recognized that the truth and importance of such religious
madness (entirely distinguishable from bodily disease was treated as
a fact of experience not merely by philosophers, but by the doctors
themselves.[2\8] For us it only remains obscure how such "divine
mania" was fitted into the regular working order of the religious
life; the sensations and experiences themselves belonging to this
condition are made intelligible enough by a whole host of analogies.
In fact if the truth were told we should rather have to admit that
it is easier for us to sympathize with such overflowing of sensation
and all that goes with it than with the opposite pole of Greek
religious life, the calm and measured composure with which man
lifted up heart and eye to the gods, as the patterns of all life and
the patrons of a serenity as brilliant and unmoved as that of the
clear heavens themselves.
But how came it that in the character of a single people such
extravagance of emotion was combined with a fast-bound and regulated
equilibrium of temper and behaviour? The answer is that these
opposing features sprang from two {256} different sources. They were
not originally combined in Greece. The Homeric poems hardly give any
hint of that overflowing of religious emotion which later Greek
peoples knew and honoured as a heaven-sent madness. It spread among
the Greeks themselves in the train of a religious agitation, we
might almost say revolution, of which Homer records, at most, only
the first faint essays. It had its origin in the religion of
Dionysos, and in company with this religion enters as something new
and strange into Greek life.
The Homeric poems do not recognize Dionysos as belonging to the gods
of Olympos, but they are aware of his existence. It is true they
nowhere plainly[3\8] refer to him as the wine-god honoured in joyful
festivals, but we read (in the narrative of Glaukos' meeting with
Diomedes) of the "frenzied" Dionysos and his "Nurses" who were
attacked by the Thracian Lykourgos.[4\8] The _Mainas_, the frenzied
woman of the Dionysos-cult, was such a well-known phenomenon, so
familiar in men's minds, that the word could be used in a simile to
explain the meaning of something else.[5\8] In this form the worship
of the god first came to the notice of the Greeks; this was the
origin of all the other festivals of Dionysos that later Greece
developed in so many different directions.[6\8] They learnt to know
Dionysos Bakcheios, "who makes men frenzied,"[7\8] as he was
worshipped in his own country.
That the original home of Dionysos-worship was in Thrace, that his
cult, popular among many of the Thracian peoples,[8\8] was
particularly honoured among the southernmost of the Thracian stocks
who were best known to the Greeks and lived on the coast between the
mouths of the rivers Hebros and Axios and in the mountainous country
behind--to all this the Greeks themselves bore frequent and manifold
witness.[9\8] The god whose name the Greeks knew in its Greek form
"Dionysos" had, it appears, among the numerous and divided Thracian
peoples various appellations of which those most familiar to the
Greeks were Sabos and Sabazios.[10\8] The Greeks must have known and
remarked on the nature and worship of the god at an early period of
their history. They may have met with him in Thrace itself. At all
periods they had an extensive and varied intercourse with this
country and must in the early days of their wanderings have passed
through it on their way to their future home. They may have had
further opportunities of knowing it from the Thracian races or
tribes who, according to a few isolated legends, had dwelt in
primitive times in certain localities of Central Greece. The
ethnographical material of these {257} legends was regarded as
founded on fact by the great historians of the fifth and fourth
centuries.[11\8]
The cult of this Thracian divinity differed in every particular from
anything that we know of from Homer as Greek worship of the gods. On
the other hand, it was closely related to the cult paid by the
Phrygians, a people almost identical with the Thracians, to their
mountain-mother Kybele. It was thoroughly orgiastic in character.
The festival was held on the mountain tops in the darkness of night
amid the flickering and uncertain light of torches. The loud and
troubled sound of music was heard; the clash of bronze cymbals; the
dull thunderous roar of kettledrums; and through them all penetrated
the "maddening unison" of the deep-toned flute,[12\8] whose soul
Phrygian _aulêtai_ had first waked to life. Excited by this wild
music, the chorus of worshippers dance with shrill crying and
jubilation.[13\8] We hear nothing about singing:[14\8] the violence
of the dance left no breath for regular songs. These dances were
something very different from the measured movement of the
dance-step in which Homer's Greeks advanced and turned about in the
_Paian_. It was in frantic, whirling, headlong eddies and
dance-circles[15\8] that these inspired companies danced over the
mountain slopes. They were mostly women who whirled round in these
circular dances till the point of exhaustion was reached;[16\8] they
were strangely dressed; they wore _bassarai_, long flowing garments,
as it seems, stitched together out of fox-skins;[17\8] over these
were doeskins,[18\8] and they even had horns fixed to their
heads.[19\8] Their hair was allowed to float in the wind;[20\8] they
carried snakes sacred to Sabazios[21\8] in their hands and
brandished daggers or else thyrsos-wands, the spear-points of which
were concealed in ivy-leaves.[22\8] In this fashion they raged
wildly until every sense was wrought to the highest pitch of
excitement, and in the "sacred frenzy" they fell upon the beast
selected as their victim[23\8] and tore their captured prey limb
from limb. Then with their teeth they seized the bleeding flesh and
devoured it raw.
It is easy enough, by following poets' descriptions and plastic
representations of such scenes, to elaborate still further the
picture of this nocturnal festival of fanatic enthusiasm. But, we
must ask, what was the _meaning_ of it all? We shall get nearest to
the truth if we will exclude as far as possible all theories
imported from unrelated provinces of thought and fix our attention
solely on what, for the participants, was the result of it all--the
result anticipated and consciously proposed by them, and therefore
the recognized object, or, at least, one {258} of the recognized
objects of these strange proceedings. The participators in these
dance-festivals induced intentionally in themselves a sort of mania,
an extraordinary exaltation of their being. A strange rapture came
over them in which they seemed to themselves and others "frenzied",
"possessed".[24\8] This excessive stimulation of the senses, going
even as far as hallucination,[25\8] was brought about, in those who
were susceptible to their influence, by the delirious whirl of the
dance, the music and the darkness, and all the other circumstances
of this tumultuous worship.[26\8] This extreme pitch of excitement
was the result intended. The violently induced exaltation of the
senses had a religious purpose, in that such enlargement and
extension of his being was man's only way, as it seemed, of entering
into union and relationship with the god and his spiritual
attendants. The god is invisibly present among his inspired
worshippers. At any rate, he is close at hand, and the tumult of the
festival is to bring him completely into their midst.[27\8] There
are various legends about the disappearance of the god into another
world and his return thence to mankind.[28\8] Every second year his
return is celebrated, and it is just this Appearance, this
"Epiphany" of the god, that gives the reason and the motive of the
festival. The Bull-God, in the most ancient and primitive form of
the belief, appeared in person among the dancers,[29\8] or else the
imitated roaring of a bull produced by hidden "Mimes of Terror"
served to suggest the invisible Presence.[30\8] The worshippers,
too, in furious exaltation and divine inspiration, strive after the
god; they seek communion with him. They burst the physical barriers
of their soul. A magic power takes hold of them; they feel
themselves raised high above the level of their everyday existence;
they seem to _become_ those spiritual beings who wildly dance in the
train of the god.[31\8] Nay, more, they have a share in the life of
the god himself; nothing less can be the meaning of the fact that
the enraptured servants of the god call themselves by the name of
the god. The worshipper who in his exaltation has become one with
the god, is himself now called Sabos, Sabazios.[32\8] The superhuman
and the infra-human are mingled in his person; like the frenzied
god[33\8] he throws himself upon the sacrificial animal to devour it
raw. To make this transformation of their nature outwardly manifest,
the participants in the dance-festival wear strange dress: they
resemble in their appearance the members of the wild _thiasos_ of
the god;[34\8] the horns they set on their heads recall the horned,
bull-shaped god himself, etc.[35\8] The whole might be called a
religious drama, since {259} everything is carefully arranged so as
to suggest to the imagination the actual presence of the mysterious
figures from the spirit world. At the same time, it is something
more than mere drama, for it can hardly be doubted that the players
themselves were possessed by the illusion of living the life of a
strange person. The awe-inspiring darkness of night, the music,
especially that of the Phrygian flute, to which the Greeks
attributed the power of making its hearers "full of the god",[36\8]
the vertiginous whirl of the dance--all these may very well, in
suitably disposed natures,[37\8] have really led to a state of
visionary exaltation in which the inspired person saw all external
objects in accordance with his fancy and imagination. Intoxicating
drinks, to which the Thracians were addicted, may have increased the
excitement;[38\8] perhaps they even used the fumes derived from
certain seeds, with which the Scythians and Massagetai knew how to
intoxicate themselves.[39\8] We all know how even to day in the East
the smoke of hashish may make men visionaries and excite religious
raptures[40\8] in which the whole of nature is transformed for the
enthralled dreamer. "Only when thus possessed did the Bakchai drink
milk and honey out of the rivers; their power ceased when they came
to themselves again," says Plato.[41\8] For them the earth flowed
with milk and honey, and the air was filled with the sweet odours of
Syria.[42\8] Hallucination was accompanied by a state of feeling in
which pain itself was only an added stimulus to sensation or in
which the visionary became completely insensible to pain, as is not
unusual in such states of exaltation.[43\8]
Every detail confirms the picture of a condition of wild excitement
in which the limitations of ordinary life seemed to be abolished.
These extraordinary phenomena transcending all normal experience
were explained by saying that the soul of a person thus
"possessed"[44\8] was no longer "at home"[45\8] but "abroad", having
left its body behind. This was the literal and primitive meaning
understood by the Greek when he spoke of the "ekstasis" of the soul
in such orgiastic conditions of excitement.[46\8] This ekstasis is
"a brief madness", just as madness is a prolonged ekstasis.[47\8]
But the ekstasis, the temporary _alienatio mentis_ of the Dionysiac
cult was not thought of as a vain purposeless wandering in a region
of pure delusion, but as a _hieromania_,[48\8] a sacred madness in
which the soul, leaving the body, winged its way to union with the
god.[49\8] It is now with and in the god, in the condition of
_enthousiasmos_; those who are possessed by this are ~e/ntheoi~;
they live and have their being in the god.[50\8] While still
retaining {260} the finite Ego, they feel and enjoy to the full the
infinite powers of all life.
In _ekstasis_ the soul is liberated from the cramping prison of the
body; it communes with the god and develops powers of which, in the
ordinary life of everyday, thwarted by the body, it knew nothing.
Being now a spirit holding communion with spirits it is able to free
itself from Time and see what only the spiritual eye beholds--things
separated from it in time and space. The enthusiastic worship of the
Thracian servants of Dionysos gave birth to the _inspiration
mantikê_,[51\8] a form of prophecy which did not (like prophecy as
it invariably appears in Homer) have to wait for accidental,
ambiguous and external signs of the god's will, but on the contrary
entered immediately into communion with the world of gods and
spirits and in this heightened spiritual condition beheld and
proclaimed the future. This power belonged to men only in
_ekstasis_, in religious madness, when "the God enters into men".
The _Mainads_ are the official exponents of this _mantikê_ of
inspiration.[52\8] It is simple and intelligible enough that the
Thracian cult of Dionysos, which was throughout a means of
stimulating men to a condition of extreme exaltation that they might
enter into direct communion with the spirit-world, also encouraged
the prophesying of inspired seers, who in their rapt exaltation and
frenzy became clairvoyant. Among the Thracian Satrai there was a
tribe called the Bessoi who produced _prophêtai_, and these were in
charge of an oracle of Dionysos situated on the top of a high
mountain. The prophetess of this temple was a woman who gave
prophecies like the Pythia at Delphi, that is to say, in a state of
rapt ecstasy. This, at least, is what Herodotos says,[53\8] and we
have many other accounts of Thracian _mantikê_ and its close
connexion with the orgiastic cult of Dionysos.[54\8]
§ 3
The Greek type of religion, perhaps from its very origin, certainly
at the earliest period of its development in which it becomes
accessible to our observation--the period to which the Homeric poems
belong--had no leaning to anything resembling an excited emotional
worship like that practised by the Thracians in their orgiastic cult
of Dionysos. The whole movement wherever it came to their notice
must have struck the Greeks of Homer as something strange and
barbaric, attractive only through the interest ever attached to the
unknown. And yet--the fact is certain--the thrilling tones {261} of
this "enthusiastic" worship awoke an answering chord deep in the
hearts of many Greeks; in spite of all that was strange they must
have recognized a familiar accent in it--something that, however
outlandishly expressed, could appeal to the common nature of
mankind.
This enthusiastic Thracian cult was in fact only a special
expression, conforming to their peculiar national characteristics,
of a religious impulse that is to be found all over the earth, and
which breaks out in every stage of civilization. It must, indeed,
answer to an instinctive need of human nature, and be rooted in the
physical and psychical constitution of man. In moments of supreme
exaltation man felt the presence above him and around him of mighty
powers that seemed to express themselves even in his own personal
life. These he was no longer to confront in pious and fearful awe,
passively confined within the limits of his own separate
personality: he was to break down every barrier and clasp them to
his heart, making them his own in unconditional surrender. Mankind
needed not to wait for that strange product of poetry and thought,
Pantheism, before it could experience this instinctive need to lose
its own private existence, for a moment, in the divine. There are
whole races of men, not otherwise among the most distinguished
members of the human family, who have a special tendency and gift
for such expansion of the human consciousness into the
supra-personal. They have an urgent impulse to such rapt and
visionary states, and they regard the enticing or horrifying visions
that visit them in those states as actual experiences of another
world into which their "souls" have for a brief while been
transported. In every part of the world there are peoples who regard
such ecstatic exaltation as the only true religious act, the only
way of intercourse with the spirit-world available to man, and base
their religious performances principally upon such ceremonial as
experience has shown to be most capable of inducing the ecstasies
and visions. The means most commonly adopted by such peoples to
produce the desired intensity and stimulation of feeling is a
violently excited dance prolonged to the point of exhaustion, in the
darkness of night, to the accompaniment of tumultuous music.
Sometimes whole companies of the people induce in themselves a state
of religious excitement by wild and furious dancing.[55\8] More
often selected individuals, specially susceptible to such
impressions, suffer their "souls" to be drawn out by music and
dancing and every other sort of stimulating influence, and made to
visit the world of spirits and gods.[56\8] Such "magicians" and
priests who can place {262} themselves in immediate contact of soul
with the spirit world, are to be found all over the globe. The
shamans of Asia, the "medicine men" of North America, the Angekoks
of Greenland, the Butios of the Antilles, the Piajes of the
Caribbees are merely special cases of a universal type, essentially
the same in all its different manifestations. Africa, Australia, and
the island world of the Pacific are equally familiar with them. Both
their performances and the range of ideas that lie behind them
belong to a type of religious experience that occurs with the
regularity of a natural phenomenon, and must therefore not be
regarded as abnormal. Even among Christian peoples of long standing,
the smouldering fires of this primitive and emotional type of
religion are ever ready to burst out again in renewed flames, and
those who feel their warmth are kindled to a more than human sense
of life and vigour.[57\8] Conventionality and traditionalism, even
the substitution of a cold and spurious mimicry for real feeling,
are of course quite compatible with a form of religion which
consists so much in the display of emotion. But even so, the most
cautious observers[58\8] have declared that by such violent
stimulation of every sense the "magicians" are thrown into a state
of quite unfeigned exaltation. In accordance with the character and
content of their normal modes of thought, the hallucinations to
which the magicians are subject differ in different cases; but as a
general rule their frenzy opens to them a way of immediate
intercourse, frequently of complete communion of being, with the
gods. This is the only explanation which will account for the fact
that, like the inspired Bakchantes of Thrace, the magicians and
priests of so many peoples are called by the name of the divinity to
whom their "enthusiastic" worship elevates them.[59\8] The impulse
to union with God, the extinction of the individual in the
divine--these are what form the fundamental points of contact
between the mysticism of the most highly cultivated and talented
people and the emotional religion of primitive "savages". Even the
external machinery of excitement and stimulation are not always
dispensed with by the mystics:[60\8] they are always the same as
those with which we are already familiar in the orgiastic religion
of primitive peoples--music, the giddy whirl of the dance, narcotic
stimulants. Thus (to take the most striking example out of many that
might be given) the dervishes of the Orient whirl round in their
violent dances to the rattle of drums, and the sound of flutes till
the last stages of excitement and exhaustion are reached. The
purpose of it all is vividly expressed by the {263} most fearless of
all the mystics, Jelaleddin Rumi, in the words: "He that knows the
power of the dance dwells in God; for he has learnt that Love can
slay.[61\8] Allah hu! . . ."
§ 4
Wherever a cultus of this kind, making its aim and object the
evocation of ecstatic raptures, has taken root--whether in whole
races of men or in religious communities--there we find in close
alliance with it, whether as cause or effect or both, a peculiarly
vital belief in the life and power of the soul of man after its
separation from the body. Our comparative glance over the analogous
phenomena of other lands has shown us that the exalted worship
offered to "Dionysos" among the Thracians was only a single variety
of a method, familiar to more than half the human race, of getting
into touch with the divine by a religious "enthousiasmos". We
therefore expect to find among the Thracians a specially strong and
well-developed belief in the life of the "soul". And in fact we find
Herodotos telling us of a Thracian tribe, the Getai, whose belief
"made men immortal".[62\8] They had only one god, Zalmoxis by
name.[63\8] To this god, who dwelt in a cavernous mountain, all the
dead of their race, they believed, would one day be gathered and
have immortal life.[64\8] The same belief was held by other Thracian
tribes, too.[65\8] This creed seems to have had in view the
"transplantation"[66\8] of the dead to a blessed life in the
hereafter. But, it would seem, this transplantation was not perhaps
for ever. We hear of the belief that the dead would "return"[67\8]
from the other world; and that this idea existed among the Getai is
implied (though the narrator does not clearly understand this) by
the absurd pragmatizing fable which Herodotos got from the Greek
settlers on the Hellespont and the Pontos.[68\8] In this story (as
often in later accounts too Zalmoxis is actually a slave and pupil
of Pythagoras of Samos. Whoever invented this fairy-tale was led to
it by observing the close relationship between the Pythagorean
doctrine of the soul and the Thracian belief. In the same way later
observers of the same fact reversed the positions and made
Pythagoras the pupil of the Thracian.[69\8] In any case the fact
cannot to be doubted that in Thrace people thought they had found
again the special doctrine of Pythagoras as to the _transmigration_
of souls. The belief in the "return" of the soul must be interpreted
as meaning that the souls of the dead return to life in new bodies
and resume their life on earth, to this extent being {264}
"immortal". Only so interpreted could it have been held for a moment
without coming into conflict with obvious appearances. An allusion
in Euripides seems to regard as Thracian such a belief in a
recurrent incarnation of the soul.[70\8]
We should be justified in expecting to find an inner connexion
between this Thracian belief in immortality, which seems to have
made such an impression on our Greek informants, and the religion
and "enthousiastic" worship of the same people. Nor are traces
lacking of a close association of the Thracian worship of Dionysos
and Thracian cult of the Souls.[71\8] But if we ask why the religion
of the Thracian Dionysos was attended by a belief in the
independent, indestructible life of the soul, a life not confined to
the period of its sojourn in the body which at present envelopes it,
the answer must be sought not in the nature of the god to whom the
cult was offered (that nature being, in fact, insufficiently known
to us) but in the nature of the cult itself. The object of that
cult--we might almost say its special task--was to exalt its
worshippers to a state of "ekstasis" in which their "souls" should
be forcibly delivered from the normal circle of their human and
circumscribed being, and raised as pure spirits to communion with
the god and his company of spirits. The true "Bakchai"[72\8]--those
who were really cast into a state of religious madness--found in the
rapture of these orgies a new province of experience open before
them: they experience things of which they could give no account in
the fully conscious light of ordinary day. There can be no doubt
that the experiences and visions that their "ekstasis" gave them
were regarded by them as the plainest and most literally real of
facts.[73\8] The belief in the existence and life of a second self
distinct from the body and separable from it was already encouraged
by the "experiences" of the separate existence and independent
behaviour of that self in dreams and fainting fits.[74\8] How much
more strongly and vividly must this belief have been confirmed for
those who in the intoxication of those delirious dances had
"experienced" for themselves how the soul, freed from the body,
could participate in the joys and terrors of the divine existence;
not indeed the whole man, body and soul together, but the soul by
itself and in separation from the body--the spiritual being
invisibly living within the man. The sense of its own divinity, its
eternity, which had been blindingly revealed to it in "ekstasis",
might be developed by the soul into a lasting persuasion that it was
indeed of a divine nature, and called to a divine life which it
would enjoy for ever as soon as it was freed from the body, {265}
just as it had then enjoyed it for a moment. No mere intellectual
arguments could give such powerful support to a spiritualism of this
kind as the personal experience itself which, even in this life
supplied a foretaste of what the individual was one day to enjoy as
his own for ever.
In some such way as this, the persuasion of an independent,
continued existence of the soul after the death of its body was
developed into a belief in the divinity and immortality of the soul.
In all such cases it was almost inevitable that the naive
distinction between "body" and "soul", natural to simple-minded
peoples and individuals, should harden into an _opposition_ between
the two. The descent from the heights where the ecstatic and
emancipated soul enjoyed its thrilling delights was too sudden; the
body could not but seem a burden and a hindrance, almost an enemy of
the heaven-born soul. Disparagement of the ordinary existence of
every day, a turning aside from this life--these are the natural
results of such an advanced spiritualism, even though it may have no
speculative basis, when it influences so profoundly the religious
temperament of a people as yet untroubled by the subtleties of a
scientific culture. A trace of such a depreciation of the earthly
life of mankind in comparison with the joys of a free
spirit-existence is to be found in what Herodotos and other
narrators tell of certain Thracian tribes[75\8] who receive the
new-born among their kinsfolk with mourning, and bury their dead
with joyful acclamation, for the latter are now beyond the reach of
all pain, and are living "in perfect happiness".[76\8] The
cheerfulness with which the Thracians faced death in battle[77\8]
was explained by the persuasion which they held that death was only
an entrance into a higher life for the soul. They were even credited
with a real desire for death, for to them "dying seemed so
fair".[78\8]
§ 5
Further than this the Thracians--who never quite outgrew a sort of
semi-animated torpor of the intellect--could not go on the way
marked out for them. The seed of a mystical form of religion that
existed in the ecstatic dance-orgies of Dionysos-worship never came
to fruition. We never feel with them that we are being taken beyond
the region of vague unconscious emotion; it is but a passing
illumination that for a moment of wild excitement reveals the near
presence of overwhelming spirit-forces.
Not until the flames of such ecstatic worship were fed and nourished
by a people of more independent and developed spiritual life, could
fitful suggestions be welded into deep and {266} enduring thought.
Reflexion upon the nature of the world and of God, the changing and
deceptive flow of appearance with the indestructible One Reality
behind it; the conception of a divinity that is One, a single light
that, divided into a thousand rays and reflected from everything
that is, achieves its unity again in the soul of man; such thoughts
as these, allied to the dim half-conscious impulse of an
enthusiastic dance-worship, might allow the pure waters of the
stream of mysticism to run clear at last, freed from the turbid and
unsatisfying enthusiasm of popular religious practices.
Thus, for example, among the stern and rigid-minded peoples of
Islam, with their stiff, uncompromising Monotheism, there arose, no
one knows whence, the inspired dance-orgies of the Dervishes, which
then spread far and wide carrying with them the mystical doctrine of
the Sûfis, that child of the profound mind of India. Man is God; God
is All: such was the pronouncement of the inspired poetry--the
special contribution in particular of Persia to this religion of
mystic **ecstasy--now in the most transparent simplicity, now in the
most gorgeous magnificence of imagery. In the ecstatic dance, which
in this case remained in organic connexion with the mystical
doctrine (as the soil of the maternal earth with the flowers which
she puts forth) new strength was ever being added to the spiritual
superstructure. Mystical theory was invigorated by the practical
experience, in heightened consciousness, of an internal and
unquenchable source of undying power and might. The veil of the
world was torn aside for the inspired worshipper; the All-One became
sensible and intelligible for him; it poured into his own being; the
"deification" of the Mystai was realized in him. "Who knows the
power of the Dance dwells in God". . .
Many years before all this, a process of development was completed
on Greek soil which has no closer parallel than the special phase of
Oriental religion just referred to. Greek religion never indeed (so
long at least as the independence of Greek life lasted) went to the
extravagant lengths of Oriental mysticism. Even the sense of the
infinite had to be expressed by the Greek imagination in plastic
form. But for all that, on Greek soil, in the ecstatic Cult of
Dionysos, under the influence of Greek reflexion upon God, the world
and mankind, the seeds which previously lay undeveloped in the womb
of that cult were unfolded in a mystical doctrine, whose guiding
principle was the divinity of the human soul and the infiniteness of
its life in God. It was from this source that Greek philosophy found
the courage to advance a doctrine of the immortality of the soul.
NOTES TO CHAPTER VIII
[1\8: Pl., _Phdr._ 265 A.]
[2\8: e.g. Cael. Aurel. (i.e. Soranos), _Morb. Chr._ i, § 144 ff.;
Aret. _Chron. Pass._ i, 6, p. 84 Kühn [vol. 24].]
[3\8: Even the late interpolated passages ~X~ 325, ~ô~ 74, are not
quite conclusive. Apart from these the statement of Sch. ~i~ 198
applies strictly throughout both poems: ~to\ mê\ paradido/nai
Ho/mêron Dio/nuson oi/nou heuretê/n~, Lehrs, _Arist._^3, p. 181.]
[4\8: ~Z~ 132 ff. The scene is evidently meant to be a Bacchic
festival. This is shown by the ~thu/sthla~, which the ~Diônu/soio
tithê=nai~ let fall out of their hands. All the rest is obscure.
Even in antiquity no one knew who the ~tithê=nai~ of Dionysos really
were, and hence alternative suggestions were all the more numerous:
cf. Nauck, _Fr. Trag._^2, p. 17. Voigt, in Roscher's _Mythol. Lex._
i, 1049. It can hardly be necessary (with Sch. A on Z 129) to deduce
from the reference to ~tithê=nai~ that Dionysos himself was regarded
as ~nê/pios e/ti kai\ pai=s~. His former ~tithê=nai~ follow him in
the Bacchic festival even after he has grown up, exactly as in _h.
Hom._ xxvi, 3, 7-10. ~hai Dionu/sou trophoi/~ as the frenzied mob
worshipping the god, ~tô=| theô=| orgia/zousai~ (in Thessaly), come
in D.S. 5, 50, 4, in a parallel narrative to the story of Lykourgos
and the Mainads. With the conception of the god as ~likni/tês~
neither his leap into the sea (~Z~ 135 ff.), nor esp. the adj.
~mainome/noio~ (132) are in harmony. This last word does certainly
give us pause. The accounts provided by later ages of the madness of
Dionysos are obviously made up from the lines of Homer and are
therefore of no use to us (already ap. Eumelos in the ~Eurôpi/a~,
Schol. AD. ~Z~ 131; then Pherekydes, Achaios ~en I/ridi~: Phld.,
_Piet._, p. 36 [Nauck, _Fr. Trag._^2, p. 751]; E., _Cyc._ 3.
[Apollod.] iii, 5, 1, is prob. derived from Pherec. as are also
Philistos _fr._ 57, _FHG._ i; Pl., _Lg._ 672 B; Nic. ~Ophiak.~ _fr._
30 Schn., etc.). Scholastic interpreters even thought of a
hypallage: ~mainome/noio = maniopoiou=, bakchei/as
paraskeuastikou=~, Schol. A, ~Z~ 132; cf. Sch. B, p. 182a, 43 f. Bk.
And, indeed, there is certainly in this case a sort of mythological
or sacramental hypallage: the state of mind brought about by the god
in those who surround him is reflected back on to the god himself
(~maino/menoi Sa/turoi~, E., _Ba._ 130; cf. the mad nurses of
Dionysos, Nonn., _D._ ix, 38 ff.). It would not be hard to parallel
this (e.g. Dionys. who makes men drunk is represented as himself
drunk, Ath. 428 E, etc.).]
[5\8: ~X~ 460, ~mega/roio die/ssuto _maina/di_ i/sê, pallome/nê
kradi/ên~. The evidence of this passage for the familiarity of
Homer's audience with the nature of the Mainads cannot be set aside
as Lob., _Agl._ 285, tries to do. The word could only be used as an
~eikô/n~ if the thing were often before men's eyes. ~maina/s~,
indeed, is even something different from, and more specialized than
~mainome/nê~ (~Z~ 389).]
[6\8: The view that ~mai/nesthai~ was primitive in the cult of D.,
the wine, etc., being added later, was definitely put forward in
1825 by O. Müller (_Kl. Schr._ ii, 26 ff.) arguing against J. H.
Voss. But it is only in quite recent times that in tracing the
origin of the religion of Dionysos occasional inquirers have taken
this view as their starting point: cf. esp. Voigt in his noteworthy
treatment of Dionysos in Roscher's _Myth. Lex._ i, 1029 ff.]
[7\8: ~ho\s mai/nesthai ena/gei anthrô/pous~, Hdt. iv, 79.] {268}
[8\8: E.g. the Odrysai, who, however, lived further north in the
Hebros valley; Mela, ii, 17, mentions distinctly the mountain chains
of Haimos, Rhodope, and Orbelos as sacris Liberi patris et coetu
Maenadum celebratos.]
[9\8: Lob., _Agl._ 289 ff.]
[10\8: Sabazios: ~Saba/zion to\n Dio/nuson hoi Thra=|kes kalou=sin~
Sch. Ar., _Ves._ 9; cf. Sch. Ar., _Lys._ 388; D.S. 4, 4, 1; Harp.
~Saboi/~; Alex. Polyh. ap. Macr. i, 18, 11 (_Sebadius_: cf. Apul.,
_M._ viii, 25, p. 150, 11 Ey. The original form of this name seems
to have been _Savos_, _Savadios_, Kretschmer, _Einleitung in. d.
**Gesch. d. griech. Spr._ 195 f.; Usener, _Götternamen_ 44). Sabos,
Phot. p. 495, 11-12 Pors. Hesych. s.v.; Orph., _H._ 49, 2, etc. The
fact that others could call Sabazios a Phrygian god (Amphitheos ~p.
Hêraklei/os b'~ ap. Sch. Ar., _Av._ 874; Str. 470; Hsch. s.v.), only
serves to bring out more clearly the opinion, unanimously held even
in antiquity, that the Thracians and the Phrygians were closely
related. Sabazios (besides being identified with Helios: Alex.
Polyh. l.c.; cf. Soph. _fr._ 523 N.), as the supreme and almighty
god of the Thracians, was even called ~_Zeu\s_ Saba/zios~ (Val. Max.
i, 3, 2), esp. on inss. (a few are given in Rapp, _Dionysoscult_
[Progr.] p. 21; cf. also ins. from Peiraeus ~Eph. Arch.~ 1883, p.
245; _Ins. Pergam._ i, 248, 33, 49: from Pisidia, _Papers of the
Amer. School at Athens_, ii, p. 54, 56. _Jovi Sabazio_, Orelli,
_Ins._ 1259). We even find ~Zeu\s Ba/kchos, Zeu\s Hê/lios~ (_BCH._
vi, 189).--The name ~Saba/zios~ was derived from ~saba/zein =
eua/zein, dia\ to\n geno/menon peri\ auto\n euasmo/n (theiasmo/n)~:
Sch. Ar., _Av._ 874; _Lys._ 388. So, too, ~Ba/kchos~ was on this
view only another way of expressing the same meaning; since this
name also was derived by the ancients from ~ba/zein = eua/zein~ (it
is really from the root ~wach (ache/ô) Ba/kchos~, with
"affrication"; a reduplicated form of it is ~wiwachos, I/akchos,
iache/ô, iakche/ô~; cf. Curtius, _Griech. Etym._^5, p. 460, 576).
Other names of the Thracian Dionysos are the following: ~Bassareu/s
(Ba/ssaros~, Orph., _H._ 45, 2), derived from ~bassa/ra~ the long
dress (made of skin?) worn by the ~Bassari/des = Thra/|kiai
ba/kchai~, _AB._ 222, 26 f.; Hsch. s.v. ~Bassa/rai~ and _EM._ s.v.
(the last compiled from Orion and Sch. Lyc. 771). Other accounts
(not contradicting in this point the statement of Hsch.) made it the
dress worn by the god himself: Sch. Pers. i, 101. (The ~Bassareu/s~
was generally described as bearded and even _senili specie_, like
the representation of Dionysos himself in the oldest Greek art:
Macr. i, 18, 9.) If ~Bassareu/s~ means "the wearer of the long
fox-skin" we should be strongly reminded of the--also Thracian--god
~_Za/lmolxis_ (Za/lmoxis)~, whose name was derived from ~zalmo/s =
dora\ a/rktou~ (Porph., _VP._ 14, though this comes only from
Antonius Diogenes 6), and probably means "he who is cloaked in the
bearskin" (see Fick, _Spracheinh. d. Indog. Europ._, p. 418; Hehn,
_Culturpflanz._ 428 E.T.).--~Gi/gôn~ a name of Dionysos, _EM._ 231,
28: perhaps a name given to the god in the city Gigonos mentioned in
the same passage, and the ~a/kra Gi/gônis~ at the western end of the
Thracian Chalkidike.--_EM._ 186, 32, is too short to be
intelligible: ~balia/; diapoi/kilos. kai\ to\n Dio/nuson
Thra=|kes.--Du/alos Dio/nusos para\ Pai/osin~, Hesych.]
[11\8: At any rate the people whom Thuc., Ephoros, and others call
Thracians and regarded as having been once settled in Phokis,
Boeotia, etc., are undoubtedly to be considered Thracians--and not
the impossibly honest and exemplary people, a creation of the fancy,
the "Thracians of the Muses", alleged to be quite distinct from the
real Thracian peoples, of whom we have heard so much since K. O.
{269} Müller (_Orchom._ 379 ff.) introduced the idea. Antiquity only
knew of one kind of Thracian. In the Homeric poems they are not so
different from the Greeks in civilization as they were in later
times, when we know them from the accounts of Herod. and Xen. For
all that they are the same people. They seem in the course of time
to have degenerated, or rather they have not shared in the progress
made by others and so have remained backward (even behind their
Phrygian relatives who wandered to Asia Minor and achieved a higher
culture under Semitic influence). In fact, like the Keltoi, they were
never able to get beyond a condition of semi-civilization.]
[12\8: ~mani/as epagôgo\n homokla/n~. Aesch. in the ~Êdônoi/~ ap.
Str. 470-1 (_fr._ 57), is the locus classicus for the music in the
_Thracian_ festival of Dionysos. Apart from this it is impossible to
distinguish in the accounts given by our ancient authorities,
between the strictly Thracian festival and the _ideal_ generalized
festival of Dionysos (not the mitigated ceremonial actually used in
the festival in Greece. They merge completely into each other.]
[13\8: ~saba/zein = eua/zein~, Schol. Ar., _Av._ 874; _Lys._ 388.]
[14\8: ~hai Ba/kchai sigô=sin~. Diogen., _Prov._ iii, 43.]
[15\8: Complete revolution round one's own axis, as in the dance of
a dervish, is known at least only in the more fanatic
dance-festivals of antiquity: ~strophê\n holosô/maton hô/sper hoi
_ka/tochoi_ dineu/ontes~, Heliod. 4, 17, p. 116, 1 Bk. ~_di/nêsis_
tô=n theophorê/tôn~ in Phrygia: Horus ap. _EM._ 276, 32. Crusius,
_Philol._ 55, 565, compares besides Verg., _A._ vii, 377 ff.; Alex.
Aphr., _Prob._, p. 6 Us. In the Spartan dance ~diamale/as~ (?)
Seilenoi and Satyrs appeared ~orchou/menoi hupo/trocha [peri/trocha~
acc. to Meineke: perhaps better]. Poll. 4, 104.]
[16\8: E., _Ba._ 116 ff., 664 ff. Thracian: assiduis Edonis fessa
choreis qualis in herboso concidit Apidano, Prop. 1, 3, 5 f.]
[17\8: Bassaris: Thracian acc. to Sch. Pers. i, 101; worn by
~ba/kchai~ Hsch. ~bassa/rai~. Lydian, too: ~ho/stis chitô=nas
bassa/ras te Ludi/as echei podê/reis~, A. ~en Êdônois~, _fr._ 59;
cf. Poll. 7, 59. "Perhaps a Phrygian word that has penetrated into
Lydia," Kretschmer, _Einleitung_, 390. The worship of Dionysos which
had also presumably come from Phrygia, was esp. popular in Lydia.]
[18\8: Familiar in the Bacchic ceremonial of Greece; but occurring
already in Thrace: Aesch. ~en Êdônoi/~ (dealing entirely with
Thracian customs) mentions the ~nebri/des~, and in the same place
has ~aigi/das~ as well (_fr._ 64).]
[19\8: The ~Ba/kchai~ of Macedonia and the ~Mimallo/nes~, in all
respects resembling the Thracian Bacchants, ~keratophorou=si kata\
mi/mêsin Dionu/sou~: Sch. Lyc. 1237 (~Laphusti/as keraspho/rous
gunai=kas~).]
[20\8: Mentis inops rapitur, quales audire solemus Threicias passis
Maenadas ire comis, Ov., _F._ iv, 457 f.]
[21\8: Thphr. _Ch._ 16 (28, p. 141 Jebb); Artemid. 2, 13, p. 106, 9
H.]
[22\8: Snakes and daggers are found in the hands of the ~mimallo/nes
kai\ bassa/rai kai\ ludai/~ in the train of Ptol. Philad.:
Kallixenos ap. Ath. 198 E. Snakes and ~thu/rsoi~ belong to the
paraphernalia of the ~e/nochoi toi=s Orphikoi=s kai\ toi=s peri\
to\n Dio/nuson orgiasmoi=s gunai=kes~ in Macedonia, and of the
~Klô/dônes kai\ Mimallo/nes~ who ~polla\ toi=s Êdôni/si kai\ tai=s
peri\ to\n Hai=mon _Thrê/|ssais ho/moia_ drô=sin~, Plu., _Alex._ 2
(in connexion with the snake of Olympias. She was especially given
to the Thrako-Dionysian mysteries: cf. the letter of Olympias to
Alexander, Ath. 659 F).--~thu/rsoi~ of the Macedonian ~Mimallo/nes~:
Polyaen. 4, 1; Sch. Pers. 1, 99.--"Even now" the thyrsos wands are
decked with ivy in the _Thraciae populis sollemnibus sacris_, Plin.,
{270} _NH._ xvi, 144.--The ~na/rthêx~ of the thyrsos is really a
shepherd's staff: Clem. Al., _Protr._ ii, p. 14 P.]
[23\8: Eur., _Ba._ 735 ff. and frequently.]
[24\8: ~katochai\ kai\ enthousiasmoi/~ in the Thrako-Macedonian
worship of Dionysos: Plu., _Alex._ 2. (The Mimallones _imitantur
furorem Liberi_, Sch., Pers. i, 99.) ~hoi tô=| Sabazi/ô| ka/tochoi~:
Porph. ap. Iamb. _de Myst._ 3, 9, p. 117, 16. ~ba/kchos; ho
maniô/dês~, Eust. ~d~ 249; ~b~ 16. ~Klô/dônes~ is the name given to
the ~maina/des kai\ ba/kchai apo\ tou= _kato/chous_ ginome/nas
klô/zein~, _EM._ 521, 50. ~hoi ka/tochoi toi=s peri\ to\n Dio/nuson
orgiasmoi=s~, Plu., _Is. et Os._ 35, p. 364 F.]
[25\8: ~hoi bakcheuo/menoi kai\ korubantiô=ntes enthousia/zousi
me/chris a\n to\ pothou/menon _i/dôsin_~, Philo, _Vit. Cont._ 2, ii,
p. 473 M.]
[26\8: So too the wild shaking and whirling-round of the head, which
acc. to innumerable literary and pictorial descriptions was a
regular feature of the Bacchic dance and cult, must have
contributed--and was so intended--to bring about the condition of
ecstasy and frenzy (~rhipsau/cheni su\n klo/nô|~, Pi., _fr._ 208;
~kra=ta sei=sai~, E., _Ba._ 185, etc.).--How such fanatic shaking of
the head, if kept up for along time, is by itself sufficient, in
persons naturally predisposed to it, to bring on complete religious
~e/kstasis~, may be learnt from a remarkable account in Moreau _du
hachisch_, p. 290 ff., derived from personal observation in the
East.]
[27\8: The object of the trieteric festival of Dionysos (repeated
every second year) held in so many places in Greece (cf. Weniger,
_Dionysosdienst in Elis_, Progr. 1883, p. 8) was to celebrate the
_presence_ of the god. This is clearly shown by D.S. 4, 3, 2, who
also attributes the trieteric festival to the Thracians: ~tou\s
Boiôtou\s kai\ tou\s a/llous He/llênas kai\ _Thra=|kas_ . . .
katadei=xai ta\s trietêri/das thusi/as Dionu/sô| kai\ to\n theo\n
nomi/zein kata\ to\n chro/non tou=ton poiei=sthai ta\s para\ toi=s
anthrô/pois _epiphanei/as_~. At this time women and maidens
celebrated ~tê\n _parousi/an_ tou= Dionu/sou~. (In the archaic song
of the Elean women the Bull-god is thus called upon: Plu., _QG._ 36,
299 A; _Is. et Os._ 35, p. 364 F; whereupon the Eleans believed that
~to\n theo/n sphisin epiphoita=n es tô=n Thui/ôn tê\n heortê/n~:
Paus. 6, 26, 1.)--For Bakchos amongst the dancers see E., _Ba._ 185
ff., 306 f., and often. At the trieteric festival at Delphi
~Dio/nusos . . . Parnaso\n kata\ **pêda=| choreu/ei parthe/nois su\n
Delphi/sin~, E., _Hypsip._ _fr._ 752. And so often in poetry: see
Nauck on S., _OT._ 213; _Ant._ 1126 ff.--Thracian trieteric
festival: tuo motae proles Semeleia thyrso Ismariae celebrant
repetita triennia bacchae, Ov., _M._ ix, 641 f.; tempus erat, quo
sacra solent trieterica Baccho Sithoniae celebrare nurus; nox
conscia sacris, etc., vi, 587.]
[28\8: ~aphanismo/s~ followed by ~epipha/neia~ of Dionysos
represent, as we frequently learn, the varying relationship of the
god with mankind. These are alternating and periodically repeated,
and they are reflected in the trieteric period of the festivals. It
is customary to explain this disappearance and return of the god as
an allegorical typification of the destruction and restoration of
vegetation. There is no reason at all to believe this, except for
those who regard the doctrines of the Greek "Religion of Nature" as
infallible axioms. The god is simply, and in the literal sense of
the words, regarded as removed for a time from the world of men,
during which period he is in the world of spirits. In the same way
Apollo, according to the Delphic legend, is carried away from the
human world for certain periods: he lives during that time among the
Hyperboreans, whose land is inaccessible to mortal foot or ship. We
ought not to be afraid to make use of the light thrown on these
matters by parallel legends of the temporary disappearance {271} of
gods among uncivilized peoples (the god may be sometimes asleep or
under constraint; cf. Plu., _Is. et Os._, 69 fin. 378 F); cf. what
we are told in Dobrizhoffer's _Gesch. d. Abip._ ii, p. 63 (E.T.),
about the beliefs held by the Abipones of Paraguay; or, again, what
is said of the negro races of West Africa, according to whom the god
normally lives in the depths of the earth, but at regularly
recurring intervals comes up to visit men; whereupon the members of
a mystical society build him a house, receive his oracles, etc.;
Réville, _Rel. des peuples non-civil._ i, 110-11. Thus Dionysos,
too, is for a time in the underworld, in the world of spirits and
the _souls_. This is clearly presupposed by the festival at Lerna,
in which Dionysos is called up out of the bottomless spring Alkyonia
by which there was an entrance to Hades (just as the inhabitants of
Kos every year ~anakalou=ntai~ Hylas out of his spring, i.e. from
the underworld: H. Türk, _De Hyla_, p. 3 f.; Welcker, _Kl. Schr._ i,
12; and see Maass, _Litt. Ztg._ 1896, 7-8). Hence also in Lerna a
lamb was offered as a victim ~tô=| pulao/chô|~, i.e. to Hades
himself, and was thrown into the spring (Plu., _Is. et Os._ 35, p.
368 F, quoting Sokrates ~peri\ tô=n Hosi/ôn~; _Smp._ 4, 6, 2, p. 671
E; Paus. 2, 36, 7; 37, 5-6). Because he is in the realm of the dead
a pragmatical myth represented him as slain by Perseus and thrown
into the spring of Lerna: Lob., _Agl._ 574. In Delphi, too,
something was known of the death and reawakening of Dionysos, but we
have in Orph., _H._ 53, a quite unambiguous expression of the real
conception, acc. to which D. "rested in the house of Persephone",
and appears again in the upper world at the time of the trieteric
festival when he ~egei/rei~ his ~kô=mon, eua/zôn kinô=n te
chorou/s~. We may be all the more certain that the same idea is to
be attributed to the trieteric festival in Thrace, since the same
belief exactly occurs again in the legend of the Thracian (Getic)
god Zalmoxis (see below)--he was believed to have disappeared into
his infernal kingdom among the spirits and souls and to have made
periodical returns to the world of the living. The reason why
Dionysos, as worshipped both in Thracian and Greek trieteric
festivals, stops for a time in the underworld of the souls, is clear
enough: that too was his realm. We can now understand why it is that
Dionysos is also ruler over the souls and can be called ~Zagreu\s,
Nukte/lios, Isodai/tês~: i.e. he is simply given names of Hades
himself (Plu., _E ap. D._ ix, p. 389 A). His real character of master
of the souls and spirits (~a/nax, hê/rôs~), as it had been
originally in the Thracian cult, was thus **preserved, in spite of
much alteration in its Greek form, partly in Greek local cults,
partly in the Orphic cult of Dionysos.--There is a legend which is
based on a reminiscence of this periodic disappearance of Dionysos
to the underworld, viz. the thoroughly Greek story of his descent on
a single occasion into Hades in order to bring back Semele.
Elsewhere his disappearance into the realm of the spirits gave rise
to the legend of his escape and flight to the Muses; this was spoken
of in the _Agrionia_ at Chaironeia (Plu., _Smp._ 8 Praef.).]
[29\8: Cf. Eur., _Ba._ 920 ff., 1020 f.]
[30\8: ~tauro/phthoggoi d' hupomukô=ntai/ pothen ex aphanou=s
phoberoi\ mi=moi~: A. ~Êdônoi/~ describing the Thracian worship of
D. (_fr._ 57). This was "certainly intended to increase for the
participants in the festival the feeling of the god's presence and
thus to add to the wildness of their orgies", as Rapp, _Dionysosc._,
19, very rightly observes. The invisible bellowing bull is the god
himself. (Dionysos appears as a bull to the insane Pentheus: E.,
_Ba._ 920 ff.).--"The Batloka, a tribe in the Northern Transvaal,
hold a yearly festival of the dead in which {272} hidden magicians
make weird sounds with flutes which the people take for the voice of
spirits; they say 'Modimo is there'." Schneider, _Relig. d. Afrikan.
Naturv._ 143.]
[31\8: The women taking part in the trieteric festival of the god
play the part of the ~maina/des~ in his train; D.S. 4, 3, 3.
Imitation of the ~Nu/mphai te kai\ Pa=nes kai\ Seilênoi\ kai\
Sa/turoi~ in the ~bakchei/a~: Pl., _Lg._ 815 C. What was afterwards
merely a piece of traditional ritual was originally without doubt a
real hallucination of the ~ka/tochoi~.--The idea that a throng,
~thi/asos~, of wood-spirits Satyrs and Seilenoi danced about the God
must also have been common in the Thracian cult (~sugchoreuetai\
Dionu/sou~, Ael., _VH._ iii, 40; ~ho tô=| Dionu/sô| parepo/menos
o/chlos~, Ath. 362 E. ~saua/dai~ (obviously related to ~Saba/zios~;
cf. Usener, _Götternamen_, 44 f.) was the name given to ~hoi
seilênoi/~ by the Macedonians, who in the practice of
Dionysos-worship were entirely dependent upon the Thracians. Hsch.
s.v., cf. Hdt. viii, 138 fin.]
[32\8: The ~bakcheu/ontes tô=| theô=|~ (i.e. Sabazios, Sabos) are
called ~sa/boi kai\ sa/bai kai\ saba/zioi~: Phot. ~sabou/s~; cf.
Eust., ~b~ 16, p. 1431, 46. Harp. (Phot.) s. ~sa/boi~; Phot.
~parasaba/zein~ (p. 383, 16 Pors.); Sch. Ar., _Av._ 874. This
identification of the god with his ecstatic worshippers belongs to
the Phrygian cult of Kybele as well. Just as the goddess is called
~Kubê/bê~ so ~ho katecho/menos tê=| mêtri\ tô=n theô=n~ is called
~Ku/bêbos~: Phot. ~Ku/bêbos, ku/bêbon~, Eust. ~b~ 16. Thus the
Greeks in calling the ecstatic worshippers of Bakchos by the name of
the god were only adopting the conceptions and vocabulary of the
Thracian religion of inspiration into their Dionysos-worship which
was modelled on the Thracian cult. ~Ba/kchos~ is their name for the
~orgiastê\s tou= theou=~ (etymologically connected is ~baba/ktês
[krau/gasos, ho/then kai\ Ba/kchos~ Hsch.] a Phrygian word for the
frenzied priest of Kybele: and therefore = ~Ku/bêbos~; cf. Ribbeck,
_Alazon_, p. 86). It appears that the ~ba/kchoi~ of Dionysos were
often called by the old Thracian name ~sa/boi~: ~sa/bous kai\ nu=n
e/ti polloi\ tou\s ba/kchous kalou=sin~, Plu., _Smp._ 4, 6, 2, p.
671 F (~Laphu/stioi~ is also a name given, after ~Dio/nusos
Laphu/stios~, to the ~Ba/kchoi~ who worship him: Lyc. 1237 with
Sch.).]
[33\8: ~Dio/nusos ôma/dios~ (Porph., _Abs._ ii, 55), ~ômêstê/s~
(Plu., _Them._ 13), ~laphu/stios, tauropha/gos~ (Soph. _fr._ 607
N.).--At other times we catch a glimpse of the idea that the god
himself is the torn and devoured bull (just as in many ancient
worships the proper victim of the god is the animal most homogeneous
with him): this is evidently the most primitive form of
~en-thousiasmo/s~, the primeval symbolism of a mystic worship that,
like all mysticism, desires to take personal possession of the God.]
[34\8: Dionysos himself also carries the thyrsos (as often in
sculpture): E., _Hyps. fr._ 752, etc.]
[35\8: See above, n. 19 (~ho bou/kerôs I/akchos~, Soph., _fr._ 874,
~tauro/kerôs theo/s~, E., _Ba._ 100). The Greek Dionysos is often
described as bull-shaped and horned: this, too, in imitation of
Thracian belief. It is _Sabazios_ whom they ~kerasti/an
pareisa/gousi~, D.S. 4, 4, 2; cf. 3, 64, 2. ~Hu/ê| tauroke/rôti~,
Euphor. _fr._ 14.--An allusion in D.S. 4, 4, 2, seems to suggest
that the god, the ~murio/morphos~, was also (like Attis) regarded as
a herdsman. Something of the sort may be referred to in the
unintelligible lines quoted by Cl. Al., _Prot._ ii, p. 14 P.,
apparently in connexion with the Sabazios mysteries. So Dionysos,
too, is sometimes thought of as a ~bouko/los~: ~poime/ni d'
agrau/lôn tau/rôn, Dio\s aigio/choio huie/i kissochi/tôni~ are words
used of him in [Orph.] _Lith._ 260. Again, in imitation of the god
himself his ~mu/stai~ are ~bouko/loi~ on the inscriptions from Asia
Minor (_Ins. Perg._ ii, 485-8) and Thrace, of {273} which R. Schöll
speaks, _de commun. et coll. Graecis_ (Satura philol. Saupp.), p.
178 ff. ~boukoliko/s~ occurs among the cult officials in the
_Iobakcheia_ at Athens: _Ath. Mitth._, 1894, p. 260, l. 122;
_archibucolos dei Liberi_ on inscriptions of the city of Rome.
~bouko/los~ and ~boukolei=n~ occur in connexion with Bacchic worship
as early as Kratinos, Aristoph., and Eurip.: ~nuktipo/lou Zagre/ôs
bou/tas~, E., _Cret. fr._ 472, 11 (acc. to Diels). See Crusius, _Rh.
M._ 45, 266 f.; Dieterich _de hymnis Orph._ (Marb. 1891), p. 3 ff.]
[36\8: The special flute-melodies going under the name of Olympos
were called _~thei=a~_ ([Pl.] _Min._ 318 B); ~_kate/chesthai_
poiei=~ (Pl., _Smp._ 215 C); ~homologoume/nôs poiei= ta\s psucha\s
_enthousiastika/s_~ (Arist., _Pol._ 1340a 10). Cic., _Div._ i, 114:
ergo et ei quorum animi, spretis corporibus, evolant atque excurrunt
foras, ardore aliquo incitati atque inflammati, cernunt illa
profecto quae vaticinantes praenuntiant: multisque rebus
inflammantur tales animi qui corporibus non inhaerent: ut ei qui
sono quodam vocum et Phrygiis cantibus incitantur. An unmistakable
description of what was meant by ~e/kstasis~ and Korybantic frenzy
(see below).]
[37\8: i.e. those who are ~enthousiasmou= katakô/chimoi~, as
Aristotle knew them; certain ~manikai\ diathe/seis~ are known to
Plato. Somewhat similar is the ~phu/sis theia/zousa~ which according
to Demokritos [D. Chr. 36, 1] _fr._ 21 Diels, belongs to the
inspired poet.]
[38\8: The drunkenness of the Thracians and their ancient
cultivation of the vine are well known. They even brewed beer from
barley: Ath. 547 BC (cf. Hehn, _Culturpflanzen_, p. 121 E.T.). The
prophetai (prophesying in "enthusiasm") of a Thracian oracle
prophesied _plurimo mero sumpto_, Aristot. ap. Macr. 1, 18, 1.--Even
the women drank unmixed wine in Thrace: Pl., _Lg._ 637 E.]
[39\8: Mela, 2, 21 (and from him Solin. 10, 5, p. 75, 16 Mom.) says
of the Thracians epulantibus ubi super ignes quos circumsident
quaedam semina ingesta sunt, similis ebrietati hilaritas ex nidore
contingit (cf. [Plu.] _de Flu._ 3, 3). There can be no doubt that it
was hemp-seed (~ka/nnabis~) which had this effect. Hdt. iv, 74, says
expressly that the Thracians knew hemp. It was thus with a sort of
hashish that they intoxicated themselves (hashish is an extract of
_cannabis indica_). The Scythians did something similar: Hdt. tells
of their vapour-baths in tightly closed huts (iv, 75): they produced
a smoke by laying hempseeds on red-hot stones and--though Hdt. does
not say so--must necessarily have got into a state of wild
intoxication. This may have been a religious performance.
Drunkenness is generally regarded by savage tribes as a religiously
inspired condition. Further, the Scythian practice has the most
striking parallel in the use of "vapour-huts" among the North
American Indians, in which case the religious intention is certain
(see the account in Klemm, _Culturg._ ii, 175-8; J. G. Müller,
_Amerik. Urrelig._ 92). Hdt. i, 202, also mentions intoxication from
the fumes of certain "fruits" among the Massagetai; these last,
after they had completely bemused themselves, stood up to dance and
sing. The Thracians, too, may very well have used intoxication
through hashish-fumes as a means of exciting themselves to their
ecstatic religious dances.--The ancients were quite familiar with
the practice of inhaling aromatic smoke to produce religious
hallucinations: [Galen] ~ho/r. iatr.~ 187 (xix, p. 462 K)
~enthousiasmo/s esti katha/per exi/stantai/ tines epi\ (hupo\?)
_tô=n hupothumiôme/nôn_ en toi=s hieroi=s,
~horô=ntes ê\ tumpa/nôn ê\ aulô=n ê\ sumbo/lôn~ (scr. ~kumba/lôn~)
akou/ontes~; cf. odorum delenimento potest animus humanus externari,
Apul., _Ap._ 43.--For the use of smoke in the {274} Korybantic
ceremonies see below.--The ~gaga/tês li/thos hupothumiathei/s~ is
useful as an ~epilêptikô=n e/legchos~ (Dioscor. v, 145); it brings
on the convulsions of the victim of ~hiera\ no/sos~ (epilepsy)
[Orph.] _L._ 478 ff. (cf. further Damigeron, _de Lap._ 20, p. 179
Ab.; Plin., _NH._ 36, 141; and also Gal. xii, p. 203 K.).]
[40\8: Polak, _Persien_, ii, 245 ff.--We have only to read the
accounts derived from personal experience of the sensations and
hallucinatory states accompanying hashish-smoking--such as those
given, for instance, by Moreau (de Tours) _Du hachisch et de
l'aliénation mentale_ (Paris, 1845), esp. pp. 23 ff., 51 ff., 59
ff., 90, 147 ff., 151 ff., 369 ff.--to have a complete parallel to
the condition which underlay Bacchic excitement. There, too, is the
complete ~e/kstasis~ of the spirit, a waking dream-state, an
~oligochro/nios mani/a~. It only requires the special tone and
character given to the hallucinations and illusions by deep-rooted
religious or fanciful conceptions--and the external machinery for
cultivating such illusions--to make them an exact equivalent of the
delirious condition of the real ~ba/kchoi~ at the nightly festival
of Dionysos. (The helpless state of impressionability to
outward--e.g. musical--and inward influences is a marked feature of
the intoxication and _fantasia_ of hashish.) Other narcotics also
have similar effects (Moreau, p. 184 ff.).]
[41\8: Pl., _Ion_, 534 A (perhaps an allusion to the words of
Aischines Socr. in the ~Alkibia/dês~ [Aristid. _Rh._ ii, 23 f.
Dind.]).]
[42\8: E., _Ba._ 142 f., 706 ff. (144 ~Suri/as d' hôs liba/nou
kapno/s~).]
[43\8: Anaesthesia of the Bakchai: ~epi\ de\ bostru/chois pu=r
e/pheron oud' e/kaien~, _Ba._ 757 f.--suum Bacche non sentit saucia
volnus, dum stupet Edonis exululata iugis, Ov., _Tr._ 4, 1, 41 f.
qualis deo percussa maenas . . . atque expers sui volnus dedit nec
sensit, Sen., _Troad._ 682 ff. Similar insensibility to pain
(certainly not always feigned) was shown in their ekstasis by the
self-wounding _galli_ of Kybele, the priests and priestesses of Mâ
(Tibull. 1, 6, 45 ff.)--something of the sort is reported of the
prophets of Baal (1 _Kings_ xviii, 28). See in general on the
subject of anaesthesia and the ~orthô=s katecho/menoi hupo\ tô=n
theô=n~, Iamb., _Myst._ 3, 4, p. 110 Par. In the case of the
shamans, the Indian Yogis, the dervishes, and the natives of North
America the existence of such states of insensibility in religious
excitement has been actually observed.]
[44\8: ~katecho/menos ek tou= theou=~ (Pl., _Men._ 99 D; X., _Sym._
i, 10. ~katecho/menoi hô/sper hai ba/kchai~, Pl., _Ion_, 534 A;
_Sym._ 215 C. ~mane/nti te kai\ kataschome/nô|~, _Phdr._ 244 E. ~hê
d' aphro\n exiei=sa kai\ diastro/phous ko/ras heli/ssous', ou
phronou=s' ha\ chrê=n phronei=n, ek Bakchi/ou _katei/cheto_~, E.,
_Ba._ 1122 ff. ~ka/tochoi~ above, n. 24.]
[45\8: ~e/ntheo/s te gi/gnetai kai\ _e/kphrôn kai\ ho nou=s ouke/ti
en autô=| e/nestin_~, Pl., _Ion_, 534 B (where it is applied to the
inspired poet but properly belongs to the Bakchai).]
[46\8: ~e/kstasis, exi/stasthai~ is often used of the inspired
state. ~mai/nesthai, enthousia=n, e/ntheon gi/nesthai, ekstê=nai~
are all used in the same sense and apply to the "inspired" prophets
(~Ba/kides, Si/bullai~) and the poets: Arist., _Prob._ 30, 1, p.
954a, 34-9. ~exi/statai kai\ mai/netai~, Arist. _HA._ 6, 22, p.
577a, 12. The religious ~orgiasmoi/, eksta/sias psucha=s epa/gonti~:
Phintys ap. Stob., _Fl._ iv, 23, 61a, p. 593 H. ~e/kstasis~ is a
state in which the soul seems estranged from itself; when the
~oikei=ai kinê/seis ouk enochlou=ntai all' aporrapi/zontai~ (Arist.,
_Pa. Nat._ 464a, 25). The word became weak and commonplace enough in
later usage, but it was evidently meant, originally, to express the
"exit" of the "soul" from its body. In the same way the phrase used
of one who {275} goes off into a faint: ~to\n d' e/lipen psuchê/~
originally meant the same thing and was so understood, see above
(chap. i, n. 8). The same idea occurs again in _P. Mag. Par._, l.
725, p. 63 Wessely: ~ hupe/klutos d' e/sei tê=| psuchê=| kai\ ouk en
seautô=| e/sei ho/tan soi apokri/nêtai~ [the god conjured up].]
[47\8: ~e/kstasis estin oligochro/nios mani/a~ [Galen] ~ho/r. iatr.~
485 (xix, p. 462). ~mani/ê e/kstasi/s esti chro/nios~ Aretaeus,
_Chr. Pass._ 1, 6, p. 78 K.]
[48\8: ~Dio/nuson maino/lên orgia/zousi ba/kchoi, ômophagi/a| tê\n
_hieromani/an_ a/gontes, kai\ teli/skousi ta\s kreônomi/as tô=n
pho/nôn anestemme/noi toi=s o/phesin epololu/zontes eua/n~, Clem.
Al., _Protr._ ii, p. 11 P.]
[49\8: The ~enthousiô=ntes ek theou= tinos~ become like the god,
~lamba/nousi ta\ e/thê kai\ ta\ epitêdeu/mata (tou= theou=),
katho/son dunato\n theou= anthrô/pô| metaschei=n~, Pl., _Phdr._ 253
A. More boldly ~heautô=n eksta/ntas ho/lous _enidru=sthai_ toi=s
theoi=s kai\ enthea/zein~, Procl. _in _Rp.__ ii, 108, 23 Kr.--~ouk
e/kstasis ha/plôs hou/tôs esti/n, alla\~ (in its positive sense)
~epi\ to\ krei=tton anagôgê\ kai\ meta/stasis~, Iamb. _Myst._ 3, 7,
p. 114, 9 Parth.]
[50\8: ~e/ntheoi gunai=kes~ of the Bakchai, S. _Ant._ 963. ~hai
Ba/kchai ho/tan e/ntheoi ge/nôntai~--Aesch. Socr. ap. Aristid.,
_Rh._ (ii, 23 Dind.). ~e/ntheos ê/de hê mani/ê~ (the religious sort)
Aret., p. 84 K. The essential meaning of ~e/ntheon ei=nai~ (_plenum
esse deo_) is clearly defined in Sch., E., _Hip._ 141: ~e/ntheoi
le/gontai hoi hupo\ pha/smato/s tinos aphairethe/ntes to\n nou=n,
kai\ hup' ekei/nou tou= theou= tou= phasmatopoiou= katecho/menoi
kai\ ta\ dokou=nta kei/nô| poiou=ntes~. The ~e/ntheos~ is completely
in the power of the god; the god speaks and acts through him. The
~e/ntheos~ has lost his consciousness of himself; like the ~thei=oi
a/ndres~ (which phrase in Plato has the same meaning as ~e/ntheoi
a/ndres~) esp. the ~theoma/nteis, le/gousi me\n alêthê= kai\ polla/,
i/sasi d' oude\n hô=n le/gousi~, Pl., _Men._ 99 C. (Philo, _Spec.
Leg._ ii, p. 343 M., says of the inspired prophet: ~enthousia=|
gegonô\s en agnoi/a|, metanistame/nou me\n tou= logismou= . . .
epipephoitêko/tos de\ kai\ enô|kêko/tos tou= thei/ou pneu/matos kai\
pa=san tê=s phô/nês organopoiï/an krou/ontos ktl.~; cf. Iamb.,
_Myst._ 3, 4, p. 109.)]
[51\8: ~e/ntheoi ma/nteis~ (Bakides, Sibyllai Arist., _Prb._ 30, 2,
954a, 37. ~theoma/nteis~ Pl., _Men._ ad fin. ~mantikê\ kata\ to\
e/ntheon, ho/per esti\n entheastiko/n~ [Plu.] _Plac. Phil._ 5, 1, 1
[_Dox._, p. 415].]
[52\8: ~ma/ntis d' ho dai/môn ho/de~ (Dionysos)~; to\ ga\r
bakcheu/simon kai\ to\ maniô=des mantikê\n pollê\n e/chei; ho/tan
ga\r ho theo\s eis to\ sô=m' e/lthê| polu/s, le/gein to\ me/llon
tou\s memêno/tas poiei=~, E., _Ba._ 298 ff. Here the inner
relationship of the inspiration _mantikê_ and the "possession" which
took place in ecstatic frenzy is expressed with all possible
clearness (drunkenness is surely not referred to!). This is how
Plu., _Smp._ 7, 10, p. 716 B, also understood Eur. Prophesying
Mainads: ~maina/das thuosko/ous~ E., _Ba._ 224--~oudei\s e/nnous
epha/ptetai mantikê=s enthe/ou kai\ alêthou=s, all' ê\ kath' hu/pnon
tê\n tê=s phronê/seôs pedêthei\s du/namin ê\ dia\ no/son ê\ dia/
tina _enthousiasmo\n_ paralla/xas~, Pl., _Ti._ 71 E. ~nosê/mata
mantika\ ê\ enthousiastika/~ make inspired ~ma/nteis~ what they are:
Arist. _Prob._ 954a, 35. Such _mantikê_ takes place in the state of
furor, cum a corpore animus abstractus divino instinctu concitatur,
Cic., _Div._ i, 66. A famous case is that of Kassandra from whom the
deus inclusus corpore humano, non iam Cassandra loquitur, § 67; cf.
the Sibyl who prophesies ~mainome/nô| sto/mati~ (Heraclit. _fr._ 12
By. = 92 D.) and the Pythia at Delphi prophesying in a state of
~mani/a~. For the prophecy of Korybantic Phrygians possessed and
"frenzied", see Arrian ap. Eust., on D.P. 809.]
[53\8: Hdt. vii, 111 (for Hdt. the ~Bêssoi/~ seem to be a division,
perhaps a clan, of the Satrai. Polyb., Strabo, Pliny, Dio C., and
others know them as an independent Thracian tribe: ~pro/mantis gunê\
chre/ousa kata/per en Delphoi=si~--which means that she prophesied
in ecstasy, for that is what the Pythia at Delphi did. (See Sch.
Ar., _Plut._ 39; {276} Plu., _Def. Or._ 51, p. 438 B. Lucan vi, 166
ff., clearly describes the phenomena supposed to attend their
religious _ekstasis_: artus Phoebados irrupit Paean, mentemque
priorem expulit, atque hominem toto sibi cedere iussit pectore.
bacchatur demens aliena, etc.)]
[54\8: ~ho Thrê|xi\ ma/ntis Dio/nusos~, E., _Hec._ 1267. Rhesos
dwelling in Mt. Pangaios is ~Ba/kchou prophê/tês~, _Rh._ 972.
~aphike/sthai toi=s Leibêthri/ois para\ tou= Dionu/sou ma/nteuma ek
Thra/|kês~, Paus. 9, 30, 9. Aristoteles qui Theologumena scripsit,
apud Ligyreos (?) ait in Thracia esse adytum Libero consecratum, ex
quo redduntur oracula. Macr. 1, 18, 1. The wife of Spartacus,
herself a Thracian, was ~mantikê/ te kai\ ka/tochos toi=s peri\ tô=n
Dio/nuson orgiasmoi=s~, Plu., _Crass._ 8. Octavian in Thrace
consulted in Liberi patris luco barbara caerimonia, i.e. an oracle:
Suet., _Oct._ 94. Even in 11 B.C. the Bessoi still had a ~hiereu\s
tou= Dionu/sou~, Vologeses, who by means of prophesyings (~polla\
thei/asas~) and ~tê=| para\ tou= theou= do/xê|~ stirred up his
people to rebel against the Odrysai: D.C. 54, 34, 5. In 29 B.C. M.
Crassus had handed over to the Odrysai the piece of land occupied by
the Bessoi ~en hê=| kai\ to\n theo\n aga/llousi~, D.C. 51, 25,
5.--The spirit of the old Thracian ecstatic cult reappeared in the
character of the Bacchic worship introduced from Greece into Italy
whose excesses (in 186 B.C.) are narrated by Livy: 39, 8 ff.: among
these being viros velut mente capta cum iactatione fanatica corporis
vaticinari: 39, 13, 12.]
[55\8: Compare, for example, what we are told of the religious
dances of the Ostiaks (Erman, _Travels in Siberia_, ii, 45 f., E.
T., Cooley), the Haokah dance of the Dakota, the "medicine-dance" of
the Winnebago in North America (Schoolcraft, _Indian Tribes_, iii,
487 ff., 286 ff.), the dance of voodoo negroes in Haiti (_Nouv.
annales des voyages_, 1858, iii, p. 90 ff.). For the violent
religious dances of the people in ancient Peru see Müller, _Amerik.
Urrelig._ 385; in Australia, R. Brough-Smith, _Aborigines of
Victoria_, i, 166 ff. (1878). Among the Veddas of Ceylon there was a
dance of the "devil's priests" (called Kattadias) dressed up as
demons: see Tennent, _Ceylon_, i, 540 f.; ii, 442.--In antiquity the
following have the closest relationship to the ecstatic cult of the
Thracians: the dance festivals in honour of the "Syrian Goddess", of
the Kappadocian Mâ, of the Phrygian Mountain Mother, and of Attis
(the last having much the same origin as the Thracian festival, but
being more strongly affected by Semitic influences, and perhaps by
the religious practices of the prehistoric inhabitants of Asia
Minor). Besides these we may remember the account given by
Poseidonios ap. Strabo, 198, D.P. 570 ff., of the excited nocturnal
festival celebrated in honour of "Dionysos" in an island at the
mouth of the Loire by the women of the Namnites (Samnites, Amnites)
~Dionu/sô| katecho/menai~ in the wildest delirium (~lu/tta~).]
[56\8: This is regularly the meaning of such excesses practised by
"magicians". The shaman (with his "soul") voyages out into the
spirit-world; see the remarkably vivid account of Radloff,
_Siberien_, ii, 1-67; and also Erman, _Zschr. f. Ethnologie_, ii,
324 ff.; A. Krause, _Tlinkitindianer_, p. 294 ff., 1885. So does the
Lapp magician (Knud Leem, _Lappen in Finmarken_ [E.T. in Pinkerton's
_Voyages_]). The Angekok enters into communion with his Torngak
(Cranz, _Hist. of Greenland_, i, p. 194, E.T., 1820); the Butio with
the Zemen (Müller, _Amerik. Urrelig._, 191 f.); the Piajes with the
spirits (Müller, 217). Thus, too, communication with the divine
"grandfather" of the people is established by means of dances, etc.,
among the Abipones (Dobrizhoffer, _Abipones_, ii, 64, E.T.). The
expulsion of the soul to visit the spirit-world is also practised
(in their convulsions) by the {277} magicians of the North American
Indians, the people of the Pacific Islands (Tylor, ii, 133), etc.
Such practices start out from a commonly held conception of the
nature of body and soul and of their relations with the unseen. The
magicians believe "that in their ecstatic condition they can break
through the barrier between this world and the next", Müller 397. To
facilitate this process they employ the various means alluded to of
stimulating their senses.]
[57\8: The most remarkable case of this is provided by the history
of a religious sect of our own day widely spread in Russia, who call
themselves "the Christs", i.e. sons of God. The sect was founded by
a holy man named Philippov in whose body God one day took up his
abode; after which the man spoke as the living God himself and gave
commandments. The sect particularly stood for the idea that the
divine dwells in mankind, Christ in men and Mary in women, and that
the sense of their presence can be awakened in men by the action of
the Holy Ghost, through the force of strong belief, by saintliness
and by religious ecstasy. To produce the ecstasy dances are held in
common. About midnight, after long prayers, hymns, and religious
addresses, the participators in the secret festival, both men and
women, dressed in strange costumes begin to dance. Soon the ranks
and circles of the dancers and singers break up; individuals begin
to turn round and round, revolving on their own axis with incredible
speed, balancing meanwhile on their heels. The excitement of the
dancing and leaping crowd grows continually greater. Finally one of
them calls out "He comes; He is near--the Holy Ghost". The wildest
ecstasy takes hold of every one. Details may be found in N. Tsakni's
_La Russie sectaire_, p. 63 ff. (cf. what is said in the same work,
p. 80 ff., of the religious dances of the Skopzes, and p. 119 f. of
the sect of the "Leapers").--All this is true _Bacchanalia
christiana_ and therefore mentioned here.]
[58\8: e.g. Mariner, _Tonga Islanders_, i, 108 (1817); Wrangel,
_Reise in Siberien_, i, 286 (i, 267 f., French trans.); Radloff,
_Siberien_, ii, 58. Even the respectable Cranz, whose own point of
view made it impossible for him to appreciate properly the Angekok
practices so clearly observed by him, admits that many of them
really saw visions that suggested "something supernatural" to them:
_Hist. of Greenland_, p. 197 E.T. Something similar is said about
ecstatically dancing dervishes by Lane, _Modern Egyptians_, ii,
197.]
[59\8: Magicians called by the name of the god (_Keebet_) among the
Abipones: Dobrizhoffer, ii, 248. Similar cases elsewhere: Müller,
77. In Tahiti the person inspired by the god so long as the
"inspiration" lasted (several days sometimes) was himself called
"god" or given the name of some particular god: Waitz, _Anthropol._
vi, 383. In the case of an African tribe dwelling on the banks of
Lake Nyanza the chief spirit sometimes takes temporary possession of
one of the magicians (man or woman) who then bears the name of the
spirit: Schneider, _Relig. d. Afrik. Naturv._ 151. Sometimes the
identity of the magician with the god is expressed by the wearing of
the god's distinguishing dress and imitation of his outward
appearance (in the manner of the Thracian ~Ba/kchoi~); cf. the
devil-dancers in Ceylon, etc.]
[60\8: When it acquires a more philosophical temper mysticism seeks
its unification with the highest (the ~e/llampsis tê=s phu/seôs tê=s
prô/tês~) more by means of the completest passivity of mind and
body. It employs the ~eis hautê\n xulle/gesthai kai\ athroi/zesthai~
of the soul (Plato), or its withdrawal from all that is finite and
particular (the _recojimiento_ of the Spanish mystics). The
profoundest quietude of spirit brings {278} about the unification
with the One behind all multiplicity; cf. the Neoplatonic mystics,
the Buddhists, etc. Sometimes both are found together; absorption
and passivity of the spirit side by side with wild excitement. Both
methods were practised by the Persian Sufis. Chardin, _Voyage en
Perse_, iv, 458 (cd. Langlés) says of them, cependant ils se servent
plus communément du chant de la danse et de la musique, disant
qu'ils produisent plus sûrement leur extase. It may be that the cult
of religious exaltation is always the real origin of these ecstatic
states. Though the cult sometimes falls into decay itself, its
offspring the ~e/kstasis~ survives.]
[61\8: In the language of these mystics the words mean: he knows
that the passionate longing for reunion with God, the Soul of the
universe, breaks down the individual personality and its
limitations--"for where Love awakes to life the Self dies, that
gloomy tyrant."]
[62\8: ~Ge/tai hoi athanati/zontes~, Hdt. Iv, 93-4
(~apathanati/zontes~, Plato and others, see Wesseling on D.S. i, p.
105, 32).]
[63\8: . . . ~oude/na a/llon theo\n nomi/zontes ei mê\ to\n
sphe/teron~ (the Zalmoxis just mentioned) Hdt. iv, 94 fin. There we
are told that the Getai ~pro\s brontê/n te kai\ astrapê\n
toxeu/ontes a/nô apeileu=si tô=| theô=|, oude/na ktl.~ If it were
true (as most people seem to think) that the god (~ho theo/s~)
threatened by the Getai during thunder was their own god Zalmoxis,
then it certainly is difficult, or, indeed, impossible, to
understand the point of explaining the threatening of this god by
the statement that they hold him for the only true god. The truth is
that the ~tô=| theô=|~ refers simply to the "sky" during a
thunderstorm. The usage is common in Greek and is only transferred
to the Getai by a rather awkward extension. This thundering ~theo/s~
is not Zalmoxis at all (hence Z. is not as some have thought a
"sky-god"). The Getai regarded Zalmoxis as the only god: the
Thunderer is no real god to them (at the most a bad demon or a
magician or something of the kind). To show that they are not afraid
of him they shoot arrows against him, probably in the hope of
breaking the thundercloud. (Parallels in other countries: Grimm, p.
1088; Dobrizhoffer, ii, 78. In India, Oldenberg, 491-4. Excitement
during an eclipse of the moon: Weissenborn on Livy, 26, 5, 9.
Reminiscence of such customs in the myth of Herakles: [Apollod.] 2,
5, 10, 5. From Hdt. by indirect channels comes Isig., _Mir._ 42 [p.
162 West.]; cf. also the account of D.C. 59, 28, 6 about
Caligula.--Pallad., _RR._ i, 35 [_contra grandinem_].)]
[64\8: ~athanati/zousi de\ to/nde to\n tro/pon . . . ou/te
apothnê/skein heôutou\s nomi/zousi, ie/nai te to\n apollu/menon
para\ Za/lmoxin dai/mona (hoi de\ autô=n to\n auto\n tou=ton
ounoma/zousi Gebele/ïzin)~, Hdt. iv, 94. Here, as regularly in Greek
use of the words, we must not understand by ~atha/naton ei=nai~ a
mere shadowy (if timeless) survival of the soul after death as in
the Homeric Hades. Such a belief if it had been held by the Getai
would not have struck Hdt. or his readers as remarkable in the
slightest degree. It must therefore imply an unending and fully
conscious existence, in this last respect resembling the life on
earth.]
[65\8: ~athanati/zousi de\ kai\ Te/rizoi (teretizoi~ Phot.) ~kai\
Kro/buzoi kai\ tou\s apothano/ntas hôs Za/lmoxi/n phasin
oi/chesthai~, Phot. Suid., _EM._ ~Za/molxis~. The Krobyzoi are a
well-known Thracian stock. The Terizoi are not elsewhere mentioned;
perhaps they may be placed in the neighbourhood of ~Ti/ristis,
Ti/rixis a/kra~ = C. Kaliakra (cf. C. Müller on Arrian, _P. Eux._
35); there we also hear of a ~Ti/ristis po/lis~, Ptolem. With this
Tomaschek also agrees (_D. alten Thraker_, _Ber. Wien. Ak._ 128, iv,
p. 97). In this case they would be neighbours of the Krobyzoi.]
{279}
[66\8: ~ouk apothnê/|skein alla\ metoiki/zesthai nomi/zontes~ is
what we hear of the Getai in Julian, _Caes._ 327 D. animas (putant)
non extingui sed ad beatiora transire, Mela, ii, 18.]
[67\8: ~. . . tou\s apothano/ntas hôs Za/lmoxi/n phasin oi/chesthai,
hê/xein de\ au=this. kai\ tau=ta aei\ nomi/zousin alêtheu/ein.
thu/ousi de\ kai\ euôchou=ntai hôs au/this hê/xontos tou=
apothano/ntos~, Phot. Suid., _EM._ ~Za/molxis~. Mela, ii, 18: alii
(among the Thracians) redituras putant animas obeuntium.]
[68\8: Hdt. iv, 95, Zalmoxis, a slave of Pythagoras in Samos, is set
free and comes back a rich man to his **poverty-stricken country. He
collects together the leading men of the race in a room, where he
entertains them and seeks to persuade them of the belief that
neither he nor they nor their descendants will die but that they
will all come after death to a place where they will enjoy all good
things in abundance. Thereupon he withdraws into a secret
underground chamber and lives there for three years. In the fourth
year he comes to light again and "the Thracians are persuaded of the
truth of what Zalmoxis had told them." This implies--though Hdt.
omits to say so, and so does [Hellan.] ~p. nom. barb.~ (following
Hdt.) ap. Phot., etc., s. ~Za/molxis~--that he had also promised
that he and his adherents should _return_ to earth alive after the
expiry of a definite period (three years). That such a belief in the
"return" of the dead was actually held by the Thracians is clear
enough from the quotations given in the last note. The story of
Zalmoxis' trick (which was perhaps intended humorously by its
inventors) seemed suspicious even to Hdt., but it is not pure
invention (any more than the analogous stories about Pythagoras,
Trophonios, and later Empedotimos): it is rather a euhemerist
version of a miraculous legend. The disappearance of Zalmoxis into a
subterranean chamber is a distortion of the belief in his permanent
abode in a hollow mountain-side, an ~antrô=de/s ti chô/rion~ in Mt.
Kogaionon of which Str. 298 speaks plainly enough. In that mountain
the god dwells; just as Rhesos ~krupto\s en a/ntrois tê=s
hupargu/rou chthono/s~ of Mt. Pangaios, dwells there as an
~anthrôpodai/môn~ [E.], _Rh._ 970; cf. chap. iv, n. 36. He lives
there undying like the ~Ba/kchou prophê/tês~, who has become a god,
to whom the tragedy obscurely alludes in ll. 972 f. as living on Mt.
Pangaios (this may perhaps refer to Lykourgos--see G. Hermann, _Op._
v, 23 f.--surely not to Orpheus as Maass, _Orpheus_, p. 68 [1895],
suggests). The obvious parallel is Amphiaraos and Trophonios in
their caves, and Orig., _Cels._ iii, 34 (see above, chap. iii, n.
13), puts them and Zalmoxis together. We may safely complete Hdt.'s
account of how the ~apollu/menoi~ of the Getai go away and have
everlasting life ~para\ Za/lmoxin dai/mona~ (iv, 94), by saying that
they reach this same hollow mountain, a subterranean place of
delight where they dwell with the god. Mnaseas compares Zalmoxis
with Kronos (_FHG._; Phot. Suid. _EM._, as before) and the similarity
doubtless resides in the fact that both rule over the spirits of the
blest in another world. But besides this the Thracian belief must
also have included the idea of a periodical appearance of the god in
the upper world. Hdt.'s story of the trick practised by Zalmoxis
shows this (the return of the souls to which the story also points,
is a sort of counterpart of this). Are we to suppose that the
~epipha/neia~ of the god was expected after the expiry of three
years (just as it was after two years in the Dionysos festival; see
above, n. 27)? We do not know whether these Thracian tribes
celebrated the ~epipha/neia~ of the god with "enthusiastic" worship.
Such an element in the cult of Zalmoxis seems to be suggested by the
fact that we hear of "physicians of Zalmoxis" (Pl., _Charm._ 156 D)
and of _mantikê_--which is generally closely bound up with
~iatrikê/~--{280} in the cult of this god. This must be the meaning
of calling Zalm. himself ~ma/ntis~: Str. 762, 297; cf. also the
otherwise valueless account of Ant. Diog. ap. Porph. _VP._ 14-15.
Finally, the enthusiastic character of the cult seems to be implied
in the identifying of the priest with the god by the Getai (as in
the similar cases mentioned above, notes 32 and 59). Thus, the high
priest is himself called "god": Str. 298 (he has authority over both
king and state: cf. the ~hiereu\s tou= Dionu/sou~ among the Bessoi,
above, n. 53; cf. Jordanes, _Get._ 71). This made it easy for the
"god" Zalmoxis, whom even Hdt. quite rightly regarded as ~dai/môn
tis Ge/tê|si epichô/rios~ (iv, 96) to be metamorphosed into a man of
the historical past (he is this in D.S. 1, 94, 2; Str. vii, 297; cf.
Jordanes, _Get._ 39). If the contemporary priest was called "god" it
might naturally be concluded that the "god" Zalmoxis was once only a
priest too.]
[69\8: Hermip. ap. Jos., _Ap._ i, 22.]
[70\8: In E., _Hec._ (1265 ff.) the Thracian Polymestor prophecies
to Hekabe that she shall become a dog after her death, ~pu/rs'
e/chousa de/rgmata~. Hekabe asks ~pô=s d' oi=stha _morphê=s_ tê=s
emê=s _meta/stasin_;~ Pol.: ~ho Thrê|xi\ ma/ntis ei=pe Dio/nusos
**ta/de~. It looks as if Eur. in this allusion to a belief in
metempsychosis was intending to give a realistic touch of Thracian
national character. He was well informed in such matters.]
[71\8: The connexion between Thracian Dionysos-worship and the
belief in immortality and cult of the dead is vouched for, acc. to
Rapp, _Dionysosc._ 15 ff., by the insc. found by Heuzey in Thracian
districts. An epitaph found at Doxato (near Philippi) says of one who
has died young (ll. 12 ff.): reparatus vivis in Elysiis. Sic
placitum est divis aeterna vivere forma qui bene de supero lumine
sit meritus.--nunc seu te Bromio signatae (see Anrich, _Antike
Mysterienwesen_, 123 f.) mystides ad se florigero in prato congregem
uti Satyrum, sive canistriferae poscunt sibi Naïdes aeque, qui
ducibus taedis agmina festa trahas . . . (_CIL._ iii, 686). It is
true that this remarkable fantasy contains nothing directly alluding
to specifically Thracian worship. On the other hand this is
certainly suggested and both the Thracian god and his connexion with
a cult of the dead is implied in the use of the local cult-title of
Dionysos in an offering made by Bythos and Rufus to the thiasi
Liberi patris Tasibasteni of 300 denarii ex quorum reditu annuo
rosalibus (and so at the yearly festival of the dead) ad monimentum
eorum vescentur. _CIL._ iii, 703; cf. 704. Even the conjunction by
E., _Hec._ 1265 ff., of the belief in palingenesia with the oracle
of the Thracian Dionysos seems to imply a connexion between that
belief and the cult of Dionysos.]
[72\8: ~polloi\ me\n narthêkopho/roi, pau=roi de/ te Ba/kchoi~ ap.
Pl., _Phd._ 69 C. The strict meaning of this Orphic verse (Lob.,
_Agl._ 813 ff.) is that out of the multitudes who take part in the
Bacchic festival only a few have any real right to call themselves
by the name of the god--as having become one with him through their
ecstasy and exaltation. A special morbid state was necessary for
that: the same state which in other circumstances made the real
shamans, Piajes, etc.]
[73\8: Even when their ~e/kstasis~ had ceased the ecstatic
worshippers still regarded as real the visions which they had
enjoyed in that condition: ~hoi=on sune/bê Antiphe/ronti tô=|
Ôrei/tê| kai\ a/llois existame/nois. ta\ ga\r phanta/smata e/legon
hôs geno/mena kai\ hôs mnêmoneu/ontes~, Arist. ~p. mnê/mês~, 1, p.
451a, 8. "Magicians who had subsequently been converted to
Christianity were still convinced of the reality of their earlier
visions: they thought they had seen something perfectly real." {281}
Müller, _Amerik. Urrelig._ 80. Add: Tylor, ii, 131; Cranz,
_Greenland_, p. 197.]
[74\8: See above, chap. i, p. 7 ff.]
[75\8: Hdt. v, 4 (speaking of the ~Trausoi/~. Hsch. has the same,
s.v. ~Trauso/s~). The story was then added to the regular list of
~no/mima barbarika/~ used for illustrating the variability of
~no/mos~. It was soon after told of the _~Kro/buzoi~_: Isig., _Mir._
27 (they were also regarded as strong adherents of a belief in
immortality; see above, n. 65); then of the ~Kausianoi/~: Nic. Dam.,
_Mir._ 18 West. Zenob., _Prov._ v, 25, p. 128, 5 L.-Schn.
(~Kau/sioi, Kausianoi/~). It occurs again in a fragment of some
collection of ~no/mima barbarika/~ written before the third century
(there is no reason to ascribe it to Aristotle) given by Mahaffy, _On
the Flinders Petrie Papyri, Transcript._, p. 29: ~Kausianoi=s de\
no/mimon tou\s me\n gignome/nous thrênei=n tou\s de\ teleutô=ntas
eudaimoni/zein hôs pollô=n kakô=n anapepaume/nous (kakô=n~ as above
or ~po/nô=n~ must be supplied to fill the gap; cf. the well-known
fragment of Eur. _Cresph._: ~echrê=n ga\r hêma=s . . .~ _fr._ 449,
which perhaps alludes to Hdt.'s account). It is told of Thracians in
general, or of some tribe not particularly named, by S. E., P. iii,
232; Val. Max. 2, 6, 12 (both clearly drawing on collections of
~no/mima barbarika/~); Mela, ii, 18; _AP._ ix, 111 (Archias). There
were thus three sources of the story: Besides Hdt.'s, two in which
either the Krobyzoi or the Kausianoi were named as the Thracian
tribe instead of Hdt.'s Trausoi.]
[76\8: ~ho/sôn kakô=n exapallachthei\s e/sti en pa/sê|
**eudaimoni/ê|~, Hdt. v, 4.]
[77\8: See Jul., _Caes._ 327 D, Mela, ii, 18. Likewise of the
~Kausianoi/~ in Anon. ap. Mahaffy (see n. 75), p. 29, 10-12. Iamb.,
_VP._ 173: as a result of the (Pythagorean) doctrine of immortality
taught by Zalmoxis ~e/ti kai\ nu=n hoi Gala/tai~ (because they had
been instructed by Zalm.; from a similar fabulous source comes
Hippol., _RH._ i, 2, p. 14, 93 D.-S.) ~kai\ hoi Tra/leis kai\
polloi\ tô=n barba/rôn tou\s hautô=n huiou\s pei/thousin hôs ouk
e/sti phtharê=nai **tê\n psuchê/n . . . kai\ ho/ti to\n tha/naton ou
phobête/on, alla\ pro\s tou\s kindu/nous eurô/stôs
hekte/on~.--~Tra/lleis~ Scaliger for the MS. ~tralis~, rightly as
far as sense goes. But we find the name ~TRALEIS~ given to the
Pergamene mercenaries called after the Thracian tribes: _Ins. Perg._
i, n. 13, 23, 59. These had already served as infantry in 331 in the
army of Alexander the Great: D.S. 17, 65, 1; cf. Hsch. ~Trallei=s~.
They were a south Thracian tribe: Plu., _Ages._ 16; _Ap. Lac._ 42;
Str. 649 (where read ~Tralle/ôn~); Tralli Thraeces, Liv. 38, 21, 2,
who elsewhere calls them Illyriorum genus, 27, 32, 4; 31, 35, 1. It
appears that a branch of the Thracian tribe of the Tralles reached
Illyria in their wanderings; there Theopompos, too, knew them:
Steph. Byz. ~Tralli/a~; cf. also s. vv. ~Bê=gis, Bo/louros~ (cf.
Tomaschek, _Sitzb. Wien. Ak._, 128, iv, p. 56 f.).]
[78\8: Appetitus maximus mortis, Mart. Cap. 6, 656. The Thracians
esp. are meant by Galen when he speaks of ~barba/rôn eni/ois~ who
entertained the belief ~ho/ti to\ apothnê/skein esti\ kalo/n~ (xix,
p. 704 K).]
{{282}}
CHAPTER IX
DIONYSIAC RELIGION IN GREECE
ITS AMALGAMATION WITH APOLLINE RELIGION. ECSTATIC PROPHECY. RITUAL
PURIFICATION AND EXORCISM. ASCETICISM
The Greeks received from the Thracians and assimilated to their own
purposes the worship of Dionysos, just as, in all probability, they
received the personality and worship of Ares and the Muses. Of this
assimilation we cannot give any further particulars; it took place
in a period lying before the beginnings of historical tradition. In
this period a multiplicity of separate tendencies and conceptions,
freely mingled with features borrowed from foreign creeds, were
welded together to form the religion of Greece.
Homer is already acquainted with the fanatical worship of Dionysos;
the god is called by the name under which Greek worshippers made
themselves familiar with the stranger.[1\9] But in Homer, Dionysos
appears only once or twice for a moment in the background. He is not
the bountiful giver of wine; he does not belong to the Round Table
of the great gods assembled on Olympos. Nowhere in the story told in
either of the Homeric poems does he influence the life and destiny
of human beings. There is no need to seek far for the reason of
Dionysos' subordinate position in the Iliad and the Odyssey. Homer's
silence makes it quite plain that at that time the Thracian god had
not yet emerged from a position of insignificance or merely local
importance in the life and faith of Greece. Nor is this hard to
understand; the cult of Dionysos only gradually won recognition in
Greece. Many legends tell of the battles that had to be fought by
the new worship and of the opposition that met the invader. We hear
how the Dionysiac frenzy and the _ekstasis_ of the Dionysiac
dance-festival took possession of the whole female population of
many districts of Central Greece and the Peloponnese.[2\9] Sometimes
a few women would venture to join the wandering choruses of wild
Bacchants who danced upon the mountain tops; here and there the king
of the land would oppose the progress of this tumultuous worship.
Such stories are told of the daughters of Minyas in Orchomenos, of
Proitos in Tiryns, of King Pentheus at Thebes, and Perseus at
Argos;[3\9] their opposition to the Dionysiac form of worship,
occurring in {283} reality at no precise date, assumed a deceptive
distinctness in the artificial systems of the mythologists and
developed the character of historical events. In reality what we are
told of these individuals--how the opponents of Dionysos themselves
fell into even wilder frenzy and in Bacchic delirium slew and tore
in pieces their own children instead of the victim-animal, or (as in
the case of Pentheus) became themselves the victim slain and torn in
pieces by the raging women--all this belongs to the class of
_ætiological_ myth. They are legends in which special features of
worship (for example, the existing or dimly remembered sacrifice of
human beings at the feasts of Dionysos) are provided with a mythical
prototype in the supposed historical past of mythology, and thus
receive their justification.[4\9] Still, there remains a substratum
of historical fact underlying such stories. They all presuppose that
the cult of Dionysos arrived from abroad and entered into Greece as
something foreign. This presupposition notoriously corresponds to
the actual facts of the case, and we are bound to assume that the
account which they immediately proceed to give of the violent
opposition which this cult, and only this cult, met with in many
parts of Greece, is not pure fiction.[5\9] We are obliged to
recognize that such stories preserved a trace of real historical
memory expressed in the one form which was invariably assumed by the
earliest Greek tradition, namely mythology, in which all the
accidents and varieties of earthly experience were condensed into
types of universal applicability.
It was then not without opposition, it appears, that the worship of
Dionysos, descending from the north into Boeotia, spread from thence
to the Peloponnese and at an early period invaded even some of the
islands as well. In truth, even if we had no evidence at all on the
point, we should have expected the Greeks to feel a profound
repugnance to this disorderly and tumultuous Thracian worship; a
deep-seated instinct must in their case have resisted such
extravagance of emotional excitement and refused to lose itself in
the limitless abyss of mere feeling. This unchecked roaming over the
mountain sides in nocturnal revelry might be suitable enough for
Thracian women-folk, but respectable Greek citizens could not give
themselves up to such things without a struggle--without, indeed, a
break with all inherited propriety and decorum.[6\9] It seems to
have been the women who were the first to give in to the invading
worship,[7\9] carried away in a real frenzy of inspired enthusiasm,
and the new cult may really have owed its first success chiefly to
them. What we are told of the irresistible progress and widespread
success[8\9] of the {284} Bacchic dance-worship and its exaltation
reminds us of the phenomena which have attended similar religious
epidemics such as have in more recent times occasionally burst out
and overflowed whole countries. We may in particular recall to mind
the accounts which we have of the violent and widespread
dance-madness which, soon after the severe mental and physical shock
suffered by Europe in the Black Death of the fourteenth century,
broke out on the Rhine and for centuries could not be entirely
stamped out. Those who were attacked by the fever were driven by an
irresistible impulse to dance. The bystanders, in convulsions of
sympathetic and imitative fury joined in the whirling dance
themselves. Thus the malady was spread by contagion, and soon whole
companies of men, women, and girls, wandered dancing through the
country. In spite of the insufficiency of the surviving records, the
religious character of this dance-enthusiasm is unmistakably
apparent. The Church regarded it as a "heresy". The dancers called
upon the name of St. John or of "certain demons"; hallucinations and
visions of a religious nature accompanied their ecstasies.[9\9] Can
it have been another such popular religious malady which attacked
Greece--perhaps in the train of the disturbance of spiritual
equilibrium caused by the destructive migrations which take their
name from the Dorians? The circumstances of the time must have
predisposed men's minds in that direction and made them ready to
accept the Thracian Dionysos and his enthusiastic dance-worship. In
any case this invasion did not, like its mediæval counterpart, break
down by coming into conflict with a well-established religion and an
exclusive ecclesiastical organization of a very different temper
from its own. In the deceptive twilight of myth we can only dimly
discern the arrival and progress of the Dionysiac religion in
Greece. But so much at least is evident: the Bacchic cult, though it
had to overcome many obstacles, at last established itself in Greece
and triumphantly overran both mainland and islands, until in the
course of time it obtained a profound and far-reaching importance in
Greek life of which Homer could scarcely give a hint.
§ 2
It was no longer simply the old Thracian Dionysos who now took his
place beside the other great gods of the Greek Olympos as one of
themselves. He had become Hellenized and humanized in the meantime.
Cities and states celebrated him in yearly festivals as the giver of
the vine's inspiring fruit, as {285} the daimonic patron of
vegetation, and the whole of Nature's rich and flourishing growth.
He was worshipped as the incarnation of all natural life and vigour
in the fullest and widest sense: as the typical exponent of the most
eager enjoyment of life. Even Art, the highest expression of the
courage and pride of life, drew much of its inspiration and its
aspiration towards the infinite from the worship of Dionysos; and
the drama, that supreme achievement of Greek poetry, arose out of
the choruses of the Dionysiac festival.
Now the art of the actor consists in entering into a strange
personality, and in speaking and acting out of a character not his
own. At bottom it retains a profound and ultimate connexion with its
most primitive source--that strange power of transfusing the self
into another being which the really inspired participator in the
Dionysiac revels achieved in his _ekstasis_. The essential features
of the god as he first arrived in Greece from foreign lands, in
spite of much alteration and transformation of the primitive type,
were thus not entirely lost. There remained also, in addition to the
cheerful festivity of the daylight worship of Dionysos, as it was
celebrated more particularly in Athens, certain vestiges of the old
ecstatic worship which drove men and women over the mountains in
nocturnal revelry. In many places there were still celebrated the
_trieteric_ festivals[10\9] in which at recurrent intervals the
"Epiphany" of Dionysos, his appearance in the world of men and
ascent from the underworld, was **solemnized by night. The primitive
character of Dionysos the Lord of Spirits and of the Souls of the
dead--a very different figure indeed from the tender and delicate
Wine-God of later times--was still obscurely present in many
features of the Dionysiac festivals, in those of Delphi especially,
but even to some extent at Athens too.[11\9] The ecstasy and the
violence, even the dark savagery of the ancient cult did not quite
die out in the midst of all the refinements of Greek civilization;
recognizable traces of such things were preserved in the _Nuktelia_
and _Agrionia_ and in the various trieteric festivals that were
offered to the god in many different localities.[12\9] In Greece the
awful god received the blood of human victims.[13\9] Nor did the
outward signs of delirious frenzy, such as the eating of raw flesh,
the killing and tearing in pieces of snakes, entirely
disappear.[14\9] So little indeed, did the Bacchic frenzy that could
exalt and lift the worshipper to communion with the god and his
train, disappear before the gentler attractions of the gracious
wine-god and his festival, that the raving and "possession" which
characterized the cult of Dionysos were {286} now actually regarded
by foreign peoples as the essentially _Hellenic_ form of the worship
of the god.[15\9]
Thus, a sympathetic understanding of the orgiastic cult and its
tremendous capabilities lived on. The "Bacchants" of Euripides still
preserves for us a breath of its magic, a trace of the enthusiasm
and exaltation that overwhelmed the senses and enthralled the will
and consciousness of those who gave themselves up to the powerful
Dionysiac influence. Like an irresistible current that overwhelms a
swimmer or like the mysterious helplessness that frustrates the
dreamer, the magic power emanating from the neighbourhood of the god
took complete possession of the worshipper and drove him whither it
willed. Everything in the world was transformed for him; he himself
was altered. Every character in the play falls under the spell as
soon as he enters into the magic circle. Even the modern reader who
turns over the pages of Euripides' poem feels something of that
strange power to subdue the soul wielded by the Dionysiac mysteries
and experiences in his own person a faint reflexion of these
extraordinary states of mind.
Probably as a result of this profound Dionysiac fever which had once
raged through Greece like an epidemic and was liable to periodic
returns in the nocturnal festivals of the god, there remained in the
constitution of the Greek people a certain morbid weakness, a
susceptibility to suddenly appearing and as suddenly disappearing
crises in which the normal powers of perceiving and feeling were
temporarily overthrown. A few stray accounts have come down to us in
which we read how such brief attacks of passing insanity ran through
whole cities like an infectious disease.[16\9] The Korybantic form
of the malady, which was religious in character[17\9] and took its
name from the daimonic companions of the Phrygian Mountain Mother,
was a phenomenon quite well-known to doctors and psychologists.
Those affected by such fevers saw strange figures that corresponded
to no objective reality, and heard the sound of invisible flutes,
until at last they were excited to the highest pitch of frenzy and
were seized with a violent desire to dance.[18\9] The initiation
festivals of the Phrygian deities were specially directed to the
discharge and so eventually to the cure and "purgation" of such
emotional states; the means employed being principally dance and
music--more especially the music composed for the flute by the old
Phrygian masters; music that could fill the soul with inspiration in
suitably disposed natures.[19\9] By such methods the ecstatic
element was not simply suppressed or expelled, it was taken {287} up
as a special disciplinary process by the physician-priesthood who
recognized in it a vital movement and added it to the regular
worship of the god.
In a similar fashion Greece in its most enlightened period accepted
and practised the "enthusiastic" cult of Dionysos. Even the
tumultuous night-festivals of the Thracian god--festivals closely
related to those of Phrygia from which they had borrowed and to
which they had given so many features--were made to serve the
"purgation" of the ecstatically exalted soul. The worshipper in such
festivals "initiated his soul into the company of the god in holy
purifications, while he raged over the mountains in Bacchic
frenzy".[20\9] The purification consisted in this case, too, of
violent excitement in which the soul was stimulated to the highest
pitch of religious ecstasy. Dionysos as "Bakcheus" awoke the holy
madness which he himself again, after it had reached its highest
point of intensity, stilled and tranquillized as Lysios and
Meilichios.[21\9] The old Thracian cult of ecstasy has here been
modified in a fashion that belonged only to Greek soil and to Greek
modes of thought. Legend, allegorizing the facts, threw back this
final development of the Dionysiac worship into the remotest
antiquity. Even Hesiodic poems[22\9] related how the daughters of
King Proitos of Tiryns wandered in the holy frenzy of Dionysos[23\9]
over the mountain of Peloponnesus, until at last they and all the
**multitude of women who had joined them were healed and "purified"
by Melampous the Seer of Pylos famed in legend.[24\9] The cure was
effected through the intensification of the Dionysiac frenzy "with
loud crying and inspired dancing,"[25\9] and, further, by the use of
certain special purificatory devices.[26\9] Melampous did not put an
end to the Dionysiac cult and its "enthusiasm"; he rather regulated
and developed it. For this reason Herodotus can even call him the
"Founder" of the Dionysiac cult in Greece.[27\9] Legend, however,
always recognized in this "founder" of the Dionysiac festival an
adherent of the specifically _Apolline_ form of religion. "Apollo
had favoured him especially," and bestowed upon him the Seership
which became ancestral in his family.[28\9] Legend used him as a
type in which the reconciliation between the Apolline and the
Dionysiac was figuratively expressed. The reconciliation is an
historical fact, but it did not happen in the primitive past of
legend.
It is a fact, however, that Apollo did at last, doubtless after
prolonged resistance, enter into the closest alliance with this
remarkable divine brother of his, the Hellenized Dionysos. {288} The
covenant must have been made at Delphi. There at least on the
heights of Parnasos, in the Korykian Cave, the trieteric festival of
Dionysos was held every second year in the close neighbourhood of
Apollo the Lord of Delphi. Nay, more, in Apollo's own temple the
"grave" of Dionysos was shown,[29\9] and at this grave, while the
Thyiades of the god rushed over the mountain heights, the priests of
Apollo celebrated a secret festival of their own.[30\9] The festal
year of Delphi was divided, though unequally it is true, between
Apollo and Dionysos.[31\9] To such an extent had Dionysos taken root
at Delphi,[32\9] so closely were the two gods related, that while
the front pediment of the temple showed the form of Apollo, the back
pediment represented Dionysos--and the Dionysos of the nocturnal
ecstatic revels. Apollo, too, shared in the trieteric festival of
Dionysos,[33\9] while Dionysos in later times at the penteteric
festival of the Pythia, received, as well as Apollo, his share of
sacrifice and the contests of cyclic choruses.[34\9] The two
divinities have many of their titles and attributes in common; in
the end the distinction between them seems to disappear
entirely.[35\9]
Antiquity never forgot that at Delphi, the radiating centre of his
cult, Apollo was an intruder. Among the older deities whom he
supplanted there, the name of Dionysos also occurred;[36\9] but the
Delphic priesthood thought it wise to tolerate the Thracian god and
his ecstatic cult that at first seemed so opposed to that of their
own deity. Dionysos may have been too vigorous a spirit to allow his
worship to be suppressed like that of the Earth divinity who sent
the prophetic dreams. Apollo is the "Lord of Delphi"; but the
priesthood of the Delphic Apollo, following in this the tendency to
religious syncretism which is so recognizable in them, took the
worship of Dionysos under their protection. The Delphic Oracle in
fact introduced Dionysos into localities where he had hitherto been
a stranger, and nowhere so successfully or with such momentous
consequences as at Athens.[37\9] It was this promoting of the
Dionysiac form of religion by the great corporation which had the
leadership in Greece in all matters of religion, that did more than
anything else to secure for the god and his worship that profound,
wide-reaching influence on Greek religion that Homer, who knows
little even of the Delphic Oracle, completely ignores.
But it was a gentler and more civilized Dionysos whom Delphi
popularized and even helped to re-shape; the extravagance of his
ecstatic abandonment was pruned and moderated {289} to suit the more
sober temper of ordinary city-life, and the brighter, daylight
festivals of urban and countryside worship. Hardly a trace of the
old Thracian worship of ecstasy and exaltation is discoverable in
the Dionysiac worship of Athens. In other places, and especially in
the districts ruled over by the Delphic Apollo himself, Dionysiac
worship preserved more of its primitive nocturnal wildness. Even
Athens, in obedience to an oracular command, sent a religious
embassy of elected women to the Delphic Trieteria. It is plain
enough however, that in all this there was nothing but a dim
counterpart of the former tumultuous mountain-worship of the god,
and its profound soul-stirring ceremonies; the worship of Athens and
Delphi had reduced all that to a vague ritual traditionalism.[38\9]
§ 3
But in spite of all attempts to moderate and civilize it outwardly,
the cult of Dionysos retained as its most enduring feature a
tendency to the ecstatic and the extravagant that was continually
breaking out in threatening or alluring guise. So strong indeed was
the ecstatic element in Dionysiac worship, that when the Apolline
and Dionysiac forms of religion became united, as at Delphi, it was
the Apolline worship--once so hostile to anything in the nature of
ecstasy--that had to accept this entirely novel feature.
The "prophecy of inspiration", deriving its knowledge of the unseen
from an elevation of the human soul to the divine, was not always a
part of Greek religion. Homer, of course, knows of the prophetic
_art_ in which specially instructed seers explained such signs of
the gods' will as occurred accidentally or were purposely sought out
by men, and by this means claimed to discover the will of heaven
both at the moment and for the future. This is, in fact, the sort of
prophecy that Apollo bestowed upon his seers.[39\9] But the prophecy
of which there was no "art" and which "no man could be taught"[40\9]
(for it came in a moment by "inspiration")--of this Homer shows no
trace.[41\9] In addition to professional and independently working
prophets the Odyssey, and even the Iliad, too, are aware of the
enclosed oracular institutions belonging to the temple of Zeus at
Dodona and that of Apollo at Pytho.[42\9] Both these used the names
of the gods with whose service they were concerned to increase the
effect and the credit of their utterances. In the Odyssey (but not
the Iliad) there is a reference to the influence wielded by the
oracle of Apollo in the more important circumstances of a people's
{290} life. But whether at that time it was an inspired prophetess
who gave replies at Delphi we cannot be sure from the poet's words.
There must have been oracles of sortilege[43\9] at that place from
an early period under the protection of the god and it is these we
should naturally expect a poet to mean who nowhere[44\9] shows any
knowledge of the striking phenomena of ecstatic _mantikê_.[45\9]
In any case this new _mantikê_ of inspired prophets, which
subsequently enjoyed such enormous development and gave the Delphic
oracle such peculiar power, was a late-coming innovation in the
Apolline cult. Over the chasm in the rock at Pytho, out of which
arose a strange and potent vapour from the depths of the earth,
there had once existed an oracle of Gaia at which perhaps inquirers
had received their instruction through the means of premonitory
dreams by night.[46\9] The earth-goddess was displaced by Apollo
here as at many other oracular sites.[47\9] The accuracy of this
tradition is confirmed by the Delphic temple legend which speaks of
the overthrow of the oracular earth-spirit Python by Apollo.[48\9]
The change may have been gradually brought about; in any case, where
once the earth-divinity had spoken directly in dreams to the souls
of men, there Apollo now prophesied--no longer indirectly through
the intervening medium of signs and omens, but directly answering
those who, in open-eyed wakefulness, inquired of him, and speaking
to them out of the mouth of his ecstatically inspired prophetess.
This Delphic prophecy of inspiration is as far removed from the old
Apolline art of interpreting omens as it is closely allied to the
_mantikê_ which we found attached from the earliest times to the
Thracian cult of Dionysos.[49\9] It appears that in Greece Dionysos
but rarely obtained an official priesthood that could have organized
or maintained a permanent oracular institute attached to a
particular place or temple. In the one Dionysiac oracle in Greece,
however, of which we have certain knowledge a priest gave prophecies
in a state of "enthusiasm" and "possession" by the god.[50\9]
Enthusiasm and ecstasy are invariably the means of the Dionysiac
prophecy just as they were the means of all Dionysiac religious
experience. When we find Apollo in Delphi itself--the place where he
most closely allied himself with Dionysos--deserting his old
omen-interpretation and turning to the prophecy of _ekstasis_, we
cannot have much doubt as to whence Apollo got this new thing.[51\9]
With the mantic _ekstasis_, Apollo received a Dionysiac element into
his own religion. Henceforward, he, the cold, {291} aloof, sober
deity of former times, can be addressed by titles that imply Bacchic
excitement and self-abandonment. He is now the "enthusiastic", the
Bacchic god: Aeschylus strikingly calls him "ivy-crowned Apollo, the
Bacchic-frenzied prophet" (_fr._ 341). It is now Apollo, who more
than any other god, calls forth in men's souls the madness[52\9]
that makes them clairvoyant and enables them to know hidden things.
At not a few places there are founded oracular sites at which
priests or priestesses in frenzied ecstasy utter what Apollo puts
into their mouths. But the Pythian oracle remained the pattern of
them all. There, prophecy was uttered by the Pythia, the youthful
priestess who sat upon the tripod over the earth-chasm and was
inspired by the intoxicating vapour that arose from it, until she
was filled with the god, and with his spirit.[53\9] The god, so ran
the belief, entered into the earthly body; or else the soul of the
priestess, "released" from her body, received the heavenly
revelation with spiritual sense.[54\9] What she then "with frenzied
mouth" proclaimed, that the god spoke out of her; when she said "I",
Apollo was speaking of himself and of what concerned him.[55\9] It
is the god who lives, thinks, and speaks in her so long as the
madness lasts.
§ 4
A profound and compelling tendency of the human mind must have been
the source of the great religious movement that could succeed in
establishing, with the ecstatic prophecy of the Delphic priestess, a
seed of mysticism in the very heart of Greek religion. The
introduction of _ekstasis_ into the ordered stability of the Delphic
mode of religion was only a symptom of that religious movement and
not its cause. But now, confirmed by the god himself, and by the
experience which the mantic practice seemed to make so evident, the
new belief, so long familiar to Dionysiac religion and worship, must
have at last invaded the older and original type of Greek religion,
and taken hold of it in spite of that religion's natural antipathy
to anything of the kind. And this belief was that a highly exalted
state of feeling could raise man above the normal level of his
limited, everyday consciousness, and could elevate him to heights of
vision and knowledge unlimited; that, further, to the human soul it
was not denied, in very truth and not in vain fancy, to live for a
moment the life of divinity. This belief is the fountain-head of all
mysticism, and tradition still records a few traces of the way in
which it grew and spread at that time. {292}
It is true that the formal and official worship of the gods in
Greece (where their cults were not obviously affected by foreign
influence) remained as fast-bound as ever within the confines of
order and lucidity. We hear very little of the entrance of ecstatic
exaltation into the constitution of the older cults.[56\9] The
irresistible religious impulse to such things found an outlet
through other channels. Men and women began to appear who on their
own initiative began to act as intermediaries between the gods and
the needs of individual men. They were natures, we must suppose, of
unusual susceptibility to "enthusiastic" exaltation; having a
strange capacity for projecting themselves into the infinite.
Nothing in the organization of Greek religion prevented such men and
women, if they could not obtain authority from any religious
community of the state itself, from acquiring a real influence in
religious matters simply from their own experience of divine
favour,[57\9] their own inward communion with divine powers.
In the darkness and ferment of this period of growth, from the
eighth to the sixth centuries, we can vaguely discern many such
shadowy figures; they look uncommonly like those strange products of
the earliest infancy of Christianity when prophets, ascetics, and
exorcists wandered from land to land, called to their work by
nothing but the immediate grace of god (~cha/risma~), and not
attached to any permanent religious community. It is true that what
we hear of Sibyls and Bakides--men and women who wandered from land
to land prophesying the future, independently of and uncommissioned
by any particular oracular institute--is mostly legend; but these
are the sort of legends that preserve real historical tradition
condensed into single types and pictures. The nomenclature itself
tells us much: Sibyls and Bakides are not individual names, but
_titles_ belonging to various types[58\9] of ecstatic prophet, and
we are entitled to suppose that the types so named once existed. The
appearance in many places of Greek Asia Minor and the old mainland
of Greece of such divinely inspired prophets is among the
distinguishing marks of a clearly defined period in Greek history;
the age of promise that came immediately before the philosophic
period of Greece. The later age, entirely given up as it was to the
pursuit of philosophic enlightenment, made so little claim to the
inheritance in their own time of the divine favour that had once
enabled the Sibyls and Bakides to see their visions and utter their
wisdom, that there actually began to appear in large numbers
prophets at second-hand, who were satisfied {293} with preserving
the traditional wisdom of the inspired prophets of the past, and
with the judicious interpretation of their treasures.[59\9] The age
of _enthusiastic_ prophets was evidently a thing of the past. The
very literature of Sibylline and Bakid oracles, which began to
appear just at that time and showed itself capable of an almost
indefinite extension, was itself largely responsible for the veil of
myth and legend which completely enveloped the original bearers of
the prophetic title. Earlier and earlier became the historic events
of the past which they had foretold; further and further into the
mythical past, _before_ the time of the events prophesied, receded
the imaginary period of the great prophets.[60\9] In spite of which
the scientific chronologists of antiquity, who were far from being
imposed upon by the delusive anticipations of prophetic poems, found
reason for fixing the date of particular Sibyls--which means for our
purpose the whole prophetic age of Greece--in the fully historical
period of the eighth and seventh centuries.[61\9]
We may recognize, in what we hear of these prophets, the shadowy
representatives of a once real and living past; they are
reminiscences of a striking and therefore never quite forgotten
phase of Greek religious life. The Bakids and Sibyls were
independent agents--though not entirely without connexion with the
regular worship of the gods, they were not attached to any
particular temple--who wandered from land to land according to the
needs of those who sought their counsel. In this respect, at least,
they resembled the Homeric omen-interpreters,[62\9] and continued
their work; but they differed from them profoundly in the mode of
their prophesying. They were "seized by the god" and in ecstatic
clairvoyance saw and proclaimed unseen things. It was no academic
skill that they possessed, enabling them to interpret the meaning of
signs and omens that anyone could see--they saw what was visible
only to God and to the soul of man filled with God.[63\9] In hoarse
tones and wild words[64\9] the Sibyl gave utterance to what the
divine impelling power within her and not her own arbitrary fancy
suggested; possessed by the god, she spoke in a divine distraction.
An echo of such daimonic possession, and of the horrible reality and
terror that it had for the possessed, can still be heard in the
cries and convulsions which Aeschylus in the _Agamemnon_ gives to
his Kassandra--a true picture of the primitive Sibyl, and a type
that the poets of that prophetic generation had reflected backwards
into the earlier past of legend.[65\9] {294}
§ 5
The activity of the seer was not confined to foreseeing and
foretelling the future. We hear of a "Bakis" who "purified" and
delivered the women of Sparta from an attack of madness that had
spread like an epidemic among them.[66\9] The prophetic age of
Greece must have seen the origin of what later became part of the
regular duties of the "seer": the cure of diseases, especially those
of the mind;[67\9] the averting of evil of every kind by various
strange means, and particularly the supply of help and counsel by
"purifications" of a religious nature.[68\9] The gift or art of
prophecy, the purification of "the unclean", the healing of disease,
all seem to be derived from one source. Nor can we be long in doubt
as to what the single source of this threefold capacity must have
been. The world of invisible spirits surrounding man, which ordinary
folk know only by its effects, is familiar and accessible to the
ecstatic prophet, the _Mantis_, the spirit-seer. As exorcist he
undertakes to heal disease;[69\9] the _Kathartic_ process is also
essentially and originally an exorcism of the baleful influences of
the spirit-world.
The wide popularity and elaboration given to the notion--hardly
hinted[70\9] at as yet in Homer--of the universally present menace
of "pollution", which is only to be averted or got rid of by means
of a religious process of purification--this is one of the chief
distinguishing features of the over-anxious piety that marked the
post-Homeric age when men could no longer be content with the means
of salvation handed down to them by their fathers. If we confined
our attention to the fact that now we find purification required for
such actions as murder and the spilling of blood which seem to imply
a moral stain to the doer of them,[71\9] we might be tempted to see
in the development of Kathartic practices a fresh step in the
history of Greek ethics, and to suppose that the new practices arose
out of a refinement and deepening of the "conscience" which now
desired to be free from the taint of "sin" by the help of religion.
But such an interpretation of Katharsis (favourite as it is) is
disposed of by a consideration of the real essence and meaning of
the thing. In later times the methods of Katharsis were nearly
always in competition and conflict (rarely in friendly alliance) with
"conscience", with the independently developed ethical thought that
based itself upon the unchanging requirements of a moral law
transcending all personal will and feeling, and even the will of
daimonic powers. In its origin and essence Katharsis {295} had
nothing whatever to do with morality or with what we should call the
voice of conscience. On the contrary, it usurped the place which in
a more advanced and morally developed people would have belonged to
a true morality based on an inner feeling for what is right. Nor did
it fail to hinder the free and unfettered development of such a
morality. Kathartic practices required and implied no feeling of
offence, of personal guilt, of personal responsibility. All that we
know of these practices serves to bring this out and set the matter
in a clearer light.
Ceremonies of "purification" accompany every step of a man's life
from the cradle to the grave. The woman with child is "unclean" and
so is anyone who touches her; the new-born child is unclean;[72\9]
marriage is fenced about with a series of purificatory rites; the
dead, and everything that approaches them, are unclean. Now, in
these instances of the common and almost daily occurrence of
purification ceremonies, there can be no moral stain involved that
requires to be washed off, not even a symbolical one. Equally little
can there be any when ritual purifications are employed after a bad
dream,[73\9] the occurrence of a prodigy,[74\9] recovery from
illness, or when a person has touched an offering made to deities of
the lower world or the graves of the dead; or when it is found
necessary to purify house and hearth,[75\9] and even fire and
water[76\9] for sacred or profane purposes. The purification of
those who have shed blood stands on exactly the same footing. It was
necessary even for those who had killed a man with just cause, or
had committed homicide unknowingly or unwillingly; the moral aspect
of such cases, the guilt or innocence of the doer, is ignored or
unperceived. Even in the case of premeditated murder, the remorse of
the criminal or his "will to amend"[77\9] is quite superfluous to
the efficacy of purification.
It could not be otherwise. The "stain" which is wiped out by these
mysterious and religious means is not "within the heart of man". It
clings to a man as something hostile, and from without, and that can
be spread from him to others like an infectious disease.[78\9]
Hence, the purification is effected by religious processes directed
to the _external_ removal of the evil thing; it may be washed off
(as by water from a running spring or from the sea), it may be
violently effaced and obliterated (as by fire or even smoke alone),
it may be absorbed (by wool, fleece of animals, eggs),[79\9] etc.
It must be something hostile and dangerous to men that is thus
removed; since this something can only be attacked by {296}
religious means, it must belong to the daimonic world to which alone
Religion and its means of salvation have reference. There exists a
population of spirits whose neighbourhood or contact with men
renders then "unclean", for it gives them over to the power of the
unholy.[80\9] Anyone who touches their places of abode, or the
offerings made to them, falls under their spell; they may send him
sickness, insanity, evils of every kind. The priest with his
purifications is an "exorcist" who sets free those who have fallen
victims to the surrounding powers of darkness. He certainly fulfils
this function when he disperses diseases, i.e. the spirits who send
the diseases, by his ministrations;[81\9] when he employs in his
purificatory ritual hymns and incantatory formulæ which regularly
imply an invisibly listening being to whom they are addressed;[82\9]
when he uses the clang of bronze instruments whose well-known
property it is to drive away ghosts.[83\9] Where human blood has
been shed and requires "purification" the Kathartic priest
accomplishes this "by driving out murder with murder",[84\9] i.e. he
lets the blood of a sacrificed animal fall over the hands of the
polluted person. Here, the purification is plainly in the nature of
a substitution-sacrifice (the animal being offered instead of the
murderer).[85\9] In this way the anger of the dead is washed
away--for this anger is itself the pollution that is to be
removed.[86\9] The famous scapegoats were nothing but sacrifices
offered to appease the anger of the Unseen, and thereby release a
whole city from "pollution". At the _Thargelia_ or on extraordinary
occasions of need in Ionic cities, and even in Athens, unfortunate
men were in ancient times slain or stoned to death or burnt "for the
purification of the city".[87\9] Even the materials of purification
that in private life served to free the individual and his house
from the claims of invisible powers, were thought of as offerings to
these powers: this is proved clearly enough by the custom of
removing such materials, when they had served their purpose as
"purifications", to the cross-roads, and of making them over to the
unearthly spirits who have their being there. The materials of
purification so treated are in fact identical with offerings to the
dead or even with "Hekate's banquets".[88\9] In this case we can see
most clearly what the forces are which Kathartic processes
essentially aim at averting. In them no attempt was made to satisfy
a heartfelt consciousness of sin or a moral sense that has become
delicate; they were much rather the result of a superstitious fear
of uncanny forces surrounding men and stretching out after them with
a thousand threatening hands in the darkness. {297} It was the
monstrous phantasies of their own imagination that made men call
upon the priests of purification and expiation for much-needed aid
and protection.
§ 6
It is simply the invasion of human life by the sinister creatures of
the daimonic world that the clairvoyant _mantis_ is supposed to
avert with his "purifications". Among these sinister influences
Hekate and her crew are particularly noticeable. This is without
doubt an ancient product of religious phantasy--though it is not
mentioned by Homer--which did not till a late period emerge from the
obscurity of local observance and obtain general popularity: even
then it only here and there ceased to be a private and domestic cult
and reached the dignity of public city-worship.[89\9] The cult of
Hekate fled the light of day, as did the wild farrago of weird and
sinister phantoms that surrounded her. She is _chthonic_, a goddess
of the lower world,[90\9] where she is at home; but, more easily
than other lower-world creatures, she finds her way to the living
world of men. Wherever a soul is entering into partnership with a
body--at birth or in child bed--she is at hand;[91\9] where a soul
is separating from a body, in burials of the dead, she is there.
Amidst the dwelling-places of the departed, the monuments of the
dead and the gloomy ritual of their worship, she is in her
element.[92\9] She is the queen of the souls who are still fast
bound to the upper world. It shows her deep-seated connexion with
the primeval worship of the dead at the household hearth,[93\9] when
we hear of Hekate as dwelling "in the depth of the hearth",[94\9]
and being honoured together with the underworld Hermes, her
masculine counterpart, among the domestic gods who "were left to us
by our forefathers".[95\9]
This domestic cult may be a legacy from times when in familiar
intercourse with the lower world men did not yet fear "pollution"
therefrom.[95a\9] To later ages Hekate was the principal source and
originator of all that was ghostly and uncanny. Men came upon her
suddenly and to their hurt by night, or in the dreamy solitudes of
midday's blinding heat; they see her in monstrous shapes that, like
the figures in a dream, are continually changing.[96\9] The names of
many female deities of the underworld of whom the common people had
much to say--Gorgyra (Gorgo), Mormo, Lamia, Gello or Empousa, the
ghost of midday--denote in reality so many different
personifications and variations of Hekate.[97\9] {298} She appeared
most frequently by night, under the half-light of the moon, at the
cross-roads. She is not alone but is accompanied by her "crew", the
hand-maidens who follow in her train. These are the souls of those
who have not had their share of burial and the holy rites that
accompany it; who have been violently done to death, or who have
died "before their time".[98\9] Such souls find no rest after death;
they travel on the wind now, in the company of Hekate and her
daimonic pack of hounds.[99\9] It is not without reason that we are
reminded of the legends of "wild hunters" and the "furious host", so
familiar in modern times in many countries.[100\9] Similar beliefs
produced similar results in each case; perhaps there is even some
historical connexion between them.[101\9] These night-wandering
spirits and souls of the dead bring pollution and disaster upon all
who meet them or fall into their hands; they send evil dreams,
nightmares, nocturnal apparitions, madness and epilepsy.[102\9] It
is for them, the unquiet souls of the dead and Hekate their queen,
that men set out the "banquets of Hekate" at the cross-roads.[103\9]
To them men consign with averted faces the remains of the
purificatory sacrifices[104\9] that they may not come too close to
human dwelling places. Puppies, too, were sacrificed to Hekate for
"purifications", i.e. "apotropaic" sacrifices.
Gruesome inventions of all kinds were easily attached to this
province of supernaturalism: it is one of the sources which, with
help from other Greek conceptions and many foreign creations of
fancy, let loose a stream of anxious and gloomy superstitiousness
that spread through the whole of later antiquity and even reached
through the Middle Ages to our own day.
Protection and riddance from such things were sought at the hands of
seers and "Kathartic priests" who, in addition to ceremonies of
purification and exorcism had other ways of giving
help--prescriptions and recipes of many strange sorts which were
originally clear and natural enough to the fantastic logic of
superstition and were still credited and handed down as magic and
inexplicable formulæ after their real meaning had been entirely
forgotten. Others, again, were driven by a fearful curiosity to
attempt to bring the world of surrounding spirits--of whose doings
such strange stories were told in legend[105\9]--even closer to
themselves. By magic arts and incantations, they compelled the
wandering ghosts and even Hekate herself to appear before
them:[106\9] the magic power forces them to do the will of the
spirit-raiser or to harm his enemies.[107\9] It was these creatures
of the spirit-world that {299} magicians and exorcists claimed to
banish or compel. Popular belief was on their side in this, but it
is hardly possible that they never resorted to deceit and imposture
in making good their claims.
§ 7
The mantic and Kathartic practices, together with what arose out of
them, are known to us almost exclusively as they were in the time of
their decay. Even in the brief sketch just attempted of this notable
by-way of Greek religion, many details have had to be taken from the
accounts left to us by later ages that had quite outgrown the whole
idea of mantic and Kathartic procedure. Compared on the one hand
with science, seriously engaged in studying the real and inward
sources of being and becoming throughout the world, together with
the limitations of man's estate, and on the other hand with the
practical and cautious medical study of the physical conditions of
human life in health and sickness, the mantic and Kathartic
practices and all the myriad superstitions arising from them seemed
like a legacy from a forgotten and discredited past. But such things
persisted in many circles of old-fashioned and primitive-minded
people, though by the emancipated and cultured they were despised as
the silly and dangerous quackery of mendicant priests and wizards.
But this product of the religious instinct cannot always have
appeared in such a light; it certainly was not so regarded when it
first came into prominence. A movement that was zealously taken up
by the Delphic oracle, which influenced many Greek states in the
organization of their religious cults, must have had a period when
its right to exist was incontestable. It must have answered to the
needs of a time when the dawning sense of the profound unity and
interconnexion of all being and becoming in the world still
contented itself with a religious explanation of what seemed
mysterious, and when a few chosen natures were seriously credited
with the power to communicate with the all-embracing spirit-world.
Every age has its own ideal of Wisdom; and there came a time when
the ideal of the Wise Man, who by his own innate powers has achieved
a commanding spiritual position and insight, became embodied in the
persons of certain great men who seemed to fulfil the highest
conceptions of wisdom and power that were attributed to the ecstatic
seer and priest of purification. The half-mythical stories in which
later ages preserved the memory of the times lying just before the
{300} age of the philosophic exploration of nature tell us of
certain great masters of a mysterious and occult Wisdom. It is true
that they are credited with powers over nature of a magical kind
rather than with a purely intellectual insight into the laws of
nature; but even in the scanty accounts of them which have come down
to us there are clear indications that their work already included
the first attempts at a mode of study based on theory. We cannot
call them philosophers--not even the forerunners of Greek
philosophy. More often their point of view was one which the real
philosophic impulse towards self-determination and the freedom of
the soul consciously and decisively rejected, and continued to
reject, though not indeed without occasional wavering and
backsliding. These men must be counted among the magicians and
exorcists who so often appear in the earliest dawn of the spiritual
history of civilized nations, and, as primitive and marvellous types
of the spirit of inquiry, precede the philosophers. They all belong
to the class of ecstatic seers and Kathartic priests.
Legend related how, out of the country of the Hyperboreans, that
distant Wonderland where Apollo hid himself in winter, there came to
Greece one Abaris, sent by the god himself. He was a saint and
needed no earthly food. Carrying in his hand the golden arrow, the
proof of his Apolline origin and mission, he passed through many
lands dispelling sickness and pestilence by sacrifices of a magic
kind, giving warning of earthquakes and other disasters. Even in
later times prophecies and "purifications", going under his name,
were still to be read.[108\9]--This man, and also another like him,
called Aristeas, were already mentioned by Pindar (_fr._ 271).
Aristeas, a man of high rank in his native city of Prokonnesos, had
the magic gift of prolonged _ekstasis_. When his soul left his body
behind, being "seized by Phoibos", it (as his second self made
visible) was seen in distant places.[109\9] As Apollo's attendant he
also appeared together with the god in Metapontum. A bronze statue
in the market-place of that city remained to testify to his presence
there, and to the astonishment awakened by his inspired
utterances.[110\9] But among all these examples of the type,[111\9]
Hermotimos of Klazomenai is the most striking. His soul could desert
his body "for many years", and on its return from its ecstatic
voyages, brought with it much mantic lore and knowledge of the
future. At last, enemies set fire to the tenantless body of
Hermotimos when his soul was away, and the latter returned no
more.[112\9]
The greatest master of all these magically gifted men was, {301}
according to tradition, Epimenides. His home was in Crete, an
ancient centre of Kathartic wisdom,[113\9] where Epimenides was
instructed in this lore as an adherent of the cult of the underworld
Zeus.[114\9] Through a mist of legend and fable we hear of his
prolonged stay in the mysterious cave of Zeus on Mt. Ida, his
intercourse with the spirits of the darkness, his severe
fasting,[115\9] the long ecstasy of his soul,[116\9] and his final
return from solitude to the light of day, much experienced and
far-travelled in "enthusiastic wisdom".[117\9] Next he journeyed
through many lands bringing his health-giving arts with him,
prophesying the future as an ecstatic seer,[118\9] interpreting the
hidden meaning of past occurrences, and as Kathartic priest
expelling the daimonic evils that arose from specially foul misdeeds
of the past. The Kathartic activity of Epimenides in Delos and other
Greek cities was famous.[119\9] It was in particular never forgotten
how in Athens at the end of the seventh century he brought to a
satisfactory close the expiation of the godless murder of the
followers of Kylon.[120\9] With potent ceremonies of which his
wisdom alone knew the secret, with sacrifice of animals and men, he
appeased[121\9] the anger of the offended spirits of the depth who
in their rage were "polluting" and harming the city . . .
It was not without reason that later tradition, undeterred by
questions of chronological possibility, brought all the names just
mentioned into connexion with Pythagoras or his adherents,[122\9]
and was even accustomed to refer to Pherekydes of Syros, the latest
of the band, as the teacher of Pythagoras. The practice, if not the
philosophy, of the Pythagorean sect grew up among the ideas and what
may be called the teaching of these men, and belongs to the epoch
which honoured them as Wise Men. We still possess a few scraps of
evidence to show that the conceptions guiding their life and work
tended to reach some sort of unification in the minds of these
visionaries who were yet something more than the mere practicians of
a magical species of religion. We cannot, indeed, tell how far the
fanciful pictures of the origin of the world of men which
Epimenides[123\9] and Pherekydes drew were connected with the
business and professional activity of these men;[124\9] but when it
is related of Hermotimos that he, like his country-man Anaxagoras,
attempted a distinction between pure "mind" and matter,[125\9] we
can see very clearly how this theory might arise out of his special
"experiences". The ecstasies of the soul of which Hermotimos himself
and this whole generation had such ample experience seemed to point
to the separability of the soul from the body[126\9]--and, indeed,
to the superiority of {302} the soul's essence in its separate state
over that of the body--as to a fact of the most firmly established
authenticity. In contrast with the soul the body could hardly help
appearing as an encumbrance, an obstacle to be got rid of. The
conception of an ever-threatening pollution and "uncleanness" which
was nourished by the teaching and activities of those innumerable
purification-priests of whom Epimenides is known to us as the
supreme master, had gradually so penetrated the whole of the
official religion itself with purification-ceremonies that it might
very well have seemed as though, in the midst of this renovation and
development of a type of religious thought that had been more than
half forgotten in the Homeric period, Greek religion was fast
approaching the condition of Brahmanism or Zoroastrianism and
becoming essentially a religion of purification. Those who had
become familiar with the contrast between body and soul, especially
if they lived in the atmosphere of Kathartic ideas and their
practical exercise, were almost bound to proceed to the idea that
even the "soul" required to be purified from the polluting
embarrassment of the body. That such ideas were almost a commonplace
is shown by many stories and turns of phrase which represent the
destruction of the body by fire as a "purification" of the man
himself.[127\9] Wherever these ideas--the precise opposite and
contrary of the Homeric conception of the relation between body and
soul-image--had penetrated more deeply they must have led to the
idea that even in the lifetime of the body the purification of the
soul should be prepared by the denial and inhibition of the body and
its impulses. The first step was thus taken towards a purely
negative system of morality, not attempting the inner reformation of
the will, but aiming simply at averting from the soul of man a
polluting evil threatening it from without--in fact to a morality of
religious _asceticism_ such as later became such an important and
decisive spiritual movement in Greece. In spite of all the
inadequacy of our information about these Wise Men of the early
pre-philosophic period, we can still dimly make out the fact that
their natural bent lay in this ascetic direction (the abstention
from food practised by Abaris and Epimenides are distinct cases of
it).[128\9] How far, exactly, they went in this direction is indeed
more than we can say.
Thus, the ascetic ideal was not absent even from Greece. It
remained, however--in spite of the influence it had in some
quarters--always a foreign thing in Greece, having its obscure home
among sects of spiritualistic enthusiasts, and regarded in contrast
with the normal and ruling view of life, as a paradox, {303} almost
a heresy. The official religion itself is not entirely without the
seeds of an ascetic system of morality; but the ascetic ideal, fully
developed and distinguished from the simple and normal religious
attitude, was in Greece found only among minorities who cut
themselves off in closed and exclusive conventicles of a theological
or philosophical temper. The "Wise Men" as idealized in the legends
of Abaris. Epimenides, etc., were as individuals not far removed
from the ideal of asceticism. Nor was it long before the attempt was
made to use these ideals as the basis on which to found a society.
NOTES TO CHAPTER IX
[1\9: We may safely take it for granted that ~Dio/nusos~ is the
_Greek_ name of the god, though a completely convincing etymology
for the word has yet to be found. Recent attempts to derive it from
the Thracian language are not very convincing. (Tomaschek, _Sitzber.
Wien. Ak._ 130, 41; Kretschmer, _Aus der Anomia_, 22 f.; _Einl._
241.) Acc. to Kretschmer a Thracian origin for the name is proved by
the appearance of the form ~Deo/nuso~--on inss. found in a few Greek
towns surrounded by Thracian influences, e.g. Abdera, Maroneia. Acc.
to him the transition from ~i~ to ~e~ before a vowel is regular in
Thrako-Phrygian, while on the other hand "it is completely
incompatible with all the laws of Greek phonetics". Others have
disagreed with this view, e.g. G. Curtius, certainly an _auctor
probabilis_, to whom the occasional appearance of the transition
from ~i~ to ~e~ before a vowel (side by side with the much commoner
reverse process) seemed quite compatible with the laws of Greek
phonetics. He even counted ~Dio/nusos--Deu/nusos~ (Anakreon) among
the examples of this vowel change within the limits of the Greek
language (_Gr. Etym._^5, p. 608 f.). At any rate ~Ea/sôn = Ia/sôn~,
and ~patroue/an = patrôi/an~ are certain cases of it (see Meister,
_Gr. Dial._ i, 294; G. Meyer, _Gr. Gramm._^2, p. 162). Kretschmer
himself, _Einl._ 225, supplies ~Asklêpeo/dôros, Dei/ = Dii/~. To
account for these forms he postulates the influence of Thracian
surroundings on Greek pronunciation; but in the case of such a
purely Greek word as ~Asklêpio/dôros~ the Thracian influence must
have been a _secondary_ phenomenon operating to cause the alteration
of the old [=i][=o] into [=e][=o]. Why should we not use the same
explanation in accounting for the change from ~Dio/nusos~ to
~Deo/nusos~ and (_if_ Thracian influence is to be presumed--by no
means probable in view of the statement of _EM._ 259, 30,
~Deo/nusos, hou/tô ga\r _Sa/mioi_ prophe/rousin~) say that this
Thracian influence was a secondary one acting upon the original
_Greek_ form of the name ~Dio/nusos~?--It is evident that the
ancients had no idea that ~Dio/nusos (Diô/nusos, Dio/nnusos)~ was
the indigenous name of the Thracian god, for they would in that case
have said so without hesitation. They derived the conception,
figure, and cult of the god from Thrace but not this particular
name, which they regularly regard as the Greek name of the daimon
whom the Thracians spoke of as ~Saba/zios~ or otherwise. (So too
Hdt. regards ~Dio/nusos~ as the Greek name of the god whose
essential nature is Egyptian.) This is by no means without
importance; on the contrary, it provides cogent reason for doubting
the (otherwise insecurely founded) derivation of the name from the
Thracian.]
[2\9: The women in Boeotia ~entheô/tata ema/nêsan~ (cf. Eur.,
_Ba._). ~tai=s Lakedaimoni/ôn gunaixi\n ene/pese/ tis oi=stros
bakchiko\s kai\ tai=s tô=n Chi/ôn~, Ael., _VH._ iii, 42. Hdt. ix,
34, speaks inclusively of the madness of the women in Argos (~tô=n
en A/rgeï gunaikô=n maneise/ôn~), where others speak only of the
frenzy attacking the daughters of Proitos. Neither is incompatible
with the other; they simply represent two different stages of the
story. The ~mai/nesthai~ which attacks the entire female population
is not (as later accounts generally make out) the punishment sent by
Dionysos: it is simply another way of expressing the general
acceptance of his worship which essentially consisted in {305}
~mai/nesthai (= bakcheu/ein~ in Ant. Lib. 10). The ~mai/nesthai~ of
individual women who try to resist the contagious enthusiasm of the
Dionysiac revelry going on around them (e.g. the daughters of
Eleuther: Suid. ~melanaig. Di/on.~) is, however, a punishment sent
by the angry god when it leads them to murder their own
children.--The regular and widespread "mania" of the newly
introduced cult of Dionysos is referred to also by D.S. 4, 68, 4;
[Apollod.] 2, 2, 2, 5; Paus. 2, 18, 4; cf. also Nonn., _D._ 47, 481
ff.]
[3\9: Resistance of Perseus to Dionysos who in this account arrives
with the Mainads from the islands of the Aegean Sea (so Paus.);
victory of Perseus, followed, however, by a reconciliation with the
god whose worship is established and a temple built for Dionysos
Kresios: Paus. 2, 20, 4; 22, 1; 23, 7-8. So, too, Nonn., _D._ 47,
475-741; [Apollod.] 3, 5, 2, 3; Sch. V., ~X~ 319; cf. Meineke, _An.
Alex._ 51. (Dionysos is slain in the war with Perseus: Dinarchos
"the poet" ap. Eus., _Chr._ ii, pp. 44-5 Sch. = an. 718 Abr.; Lob.,
_Agl._ 537 f.).--Lykourgos does not properly belong to this series:
his legend, as told by [Apollod.] 3, 5, 1 (apparently following the
direction given to it by Aesch.), is a late transformation of the
story preserved by Homer, in which stories of Pentheus or the
Minyads or the Proitides are imitated.]
[4\9: This is esp. clear in the legend dealing with Orchomenos; cf.
the account in Plu., _Q.Gr._ 38, p. 293 D. It is very probable that
the other stories, too, were founded upon sacrificial ritual; cf.
Welcker, _Gr. Götterl._ i, 444 ff.]
[5\9: Cf. also Sch. Ar., _Ach._ 243.]
[6\9: Cf. Eur., _Ba._ 217 ff., 487, 32 ff. The daughters of Minyas
~epo/thoun tou\s game/tas~ (see Perizon. ad loc.) ~kai\ dia\ tou=to
ouk ege/nonto tô=| theô=| maina/des~, Ael., _VH._ iii, 42.
Throughout all these legends the contrast between Dionysos and Hera,
who is the patroness of marriage, is very marked.]
[7\9: ~orsigu/naika Di/onuson~--unknown poet ap. Plu., _Exil._ 17,
p. 607 C; _Smp._ 4, 6, 1, p. 671 C; _E_ ap. _D._ 9, 389 B.
~hi/lathi, eiraphiô=ta, gunaimane/s~, _h. Hom._ 34, 17.]
[8\9: Like an infection or a conflagration. ~ê/dê to/d' eggu\s
hô/ste pu=r epha/ptetai hu/brisma Bakchou=, pso/gos es He/llênas
me/gas~, Pentheus in E., _Ba._ 778.]
[9\9: See the accounts reported ap. Hecker, _Epidemics of the M.A._,
pp. 88, 153 Babington, esp. those of Petrus de Herental (ap. Steph.
Baluz., _Vit. Pap. Avinion._ i, 483): quaedam nomina daemoniorum
appellabant. The dancer cernit Mariae filium et caelum
apertum.--"The masters of the Holy Scripture who exorcized the
dancers regarded them as being possessed by the devil." (Limburg
Chronicle; see _Mon. Germ., Chron._ iv, 1, ed. Tilemann: p. 64, ed.
Wyss.)]
[10\9: Details given by Weniger, _Dionysosdienst in Elis_, p. 8
(1883).]
[11\9: At Delphi there was a festival called ~hêrôï/s~ in which the
Dionysiac _Thyiades_ took part; a ~Seme/lês anagôgê/~ was the chief
feature of the ~drô/mena phanerô=s~ (Plu., _Q.Gr._ 12). The name
~hêrôï/s~ points to a general festival of the dead (cf. Voigt in
Roscher's _Lex._ i, 1048); for another general festival of "Heroes"
at Delphi see chap. iv, n. 82. At Athens the great festival of the
dead, the Choes and Chytrai (chap. v, p. 168) formed part of the
Anthesteria. It is precisely in these ~archaio/tera Dionu/sia~
(Thuc. ii, 15, 4) that Dionysos appears as he was in primitive
belief, the "master of the souls". Thus, too, in Argos one of the
most ancient seats of the worship of Dionysos, the Dionysiac
festival of the Agriania was at the same time a festival {306} of
the dead, ~neku/sia~: Hsch., ~agria/nia~ (it was specially ~epi\
mia=| tô=n Proi/tou thugate/rôn~ [Iphinoë: Apollod. 2, 22, 8], Hsch.
s.v.: even so it was a festival of the dead).--In Plu., _E ap. D._
9, 389 A, in view of the hopeless confusion shown by Plutarch in
that chapter between Delphic cult-procedure and the opinions of
certain unspecified ~theolo/goi~, it is unfortunately impossible to
say with certainty whether it is the Delphians who ~Dio/nuson kai\
Zagre/a kai\ Nukte/lion kai\ Isodai/tên onoma/zousin~ or whether
this only applies to the ~theolo/goi~ (in which case they are
probably Orphics).]
[12\9: The _Agrionia_ to the "savage" god (~ômêstê\s kai\
agriô/nios~ as contrasted with the ~charido/tês kai\ meili/chios~,
Plu., _Ant._ 24) were celebrated in Thebes and Argos. ~agriô/nia
kai\ nukte/lia hô=n ta\ polla\ dia\ sko/tous dra=tai~ are opposed to
the ~olu/mpia hiera/~, by Plu., _QR._ 112, p. 291 A. Bacchic din,
~pso/phos~, at the ~nukte/lia~, Plu., _Smp._ 4, 6, p. 672 A.--Temple
of D. ~Nukte/lios~ at Megara: Paus. 1, 40, 6. Nocturnal festivities
(~nu/ktôr ta\ polla\~, Eur., _Ba._ 486) at the Dionysia at Lerna =
Paus. 2, 37, 6, at the festival of ~Dio/nusos Lamptê/r~ in Pellone:
Paus. 7, 27, 3. ~o/rgia~ of D. at Melangeia in Arcadia 8, 6, 5; at
Heraia 8, 26, 1. The orgiastic cult of D. seems to have been
preserved particularly in Sparta. We hear of the ~oi=stros
bakchiko/s~ that once attacked the women of Sparta from Aelian,
_VH._ iii, 42; some lines of Alkman (_fr._ 34) allude to the
fanatical Bacchic revels on the mountain tops (quite misunderstood
by Welcker, _Kl. Schr._ iv, 49). It became proverbial: virginibus
bacchata Lacaenis Taygeta, Vg., _G._ ii, 487. A special word is
applied to the Bacchic fury of these Spartan Mainads: ~du/smainai~
(Philarg. on Vg., _G._ ii, 487; Hsch. s.v.; Meineke, _An. Alex._
360). In view of these ecstatic mountain-revels we need not be
surprised at the prohibition of drunken roaming about the city and
countryside, of which Pl., _Lg._ 637 AB speaks.]
[13\9: Welcker, _Gr. Götterl._ i, 444.--But human sacrifice in the
Thracian worship of D. is nevertheless suggested by the remarkable
story of Porph. (_Abs._ ii, 8) about the ~Ba/ssaroi~ (whom he seems
to take for a Thracian tribe.]
[14\9: Clem. Al., Arn., Firm. all speak of the ~ômophagi/a~ of the
Bakchai as a still-prevailing cult-practice. Bernays, _Heraklit.
Briefe_, 73. Galen, too, speaks in the same way of the tearing in
pieces of snakes at the Bacchic festivals (quoted Lob., _Agl._ 271
a; to snare vipers ~ka/llisto/s esti kairo/s, ho\n kai\ auto\s ho
Andro/machos~ (79 ff. of his poem) ~edê/lôsen, hêni/ka kai\ hoi tô=|
Dionu/sô| bakcheu/ontes eiô/thasi diaspa=n ta\s echi/dnas,
pauome/nou me\n tou= hê=ros ou/pô d' êrgme/nou tou= the/rous~
(_Antid._ i, 8 = xiv, p. 45 K.). ~hêni/ka--echi/dnas~ are Gal.'s
words not Andromachos'. Cf. also Prud., _Sym._ i, 130 ff.]
[15\9: We need only recall the remarkable story of Hdt. (iv, 79)
about the Scythian king who in Borysthenes was initiated into the
mysteries of Dionysos Bakcheios ~ho\s mai/nesthai ena/gei
anthrô/pous~. His Scythian subjects took exception to this. For them
the religion was specifically Greek, A Borysthenite says to the
Scythians: ~hêmô=n ga\r katagela=te, ô= Sku/thai, ho/ti bakcheu/omen
kai\ hêma=s ho theo\s _lamba/nei_. nu=n hou=tos ho dai/môn kai\ to\n
hume/teron basile/a lela/bêke kai\ bakcheu/ei kai\ hupo\ tou= theou=
_mai/netai_.~]
[16\9: Cf. the remarkable account given by Plu., _Mul. Virt._ 11, p.
249 B; _fr. de An._ ap. Gell. 15, 10; Polyaen. 8, 63; and Lucian in
_H.Conscr._ (25), 1.]
[17\9: Of a different description are the attacks of temporary
insanity accompanied by similar features but not religious in
complexion described by Aretaeus, p. 82 K., and Gal. vii, pp. 60-1
K. (the case of Theophilos).] {307}
[18\9: Phenomena of ~korubantiasmo/s~: hearing the sound of flutes
Pl., _Crit._ 54 D, Max. T., _Diss._ 38, 2, p. 220 R.; cf. Cic.,
_Div._ i, 114; seeing ~phantasi/ai~, D.H., _Dem._ 22. It is this
waking dream-condition, a condition related to hypnosis, which Pliny
probably means: patentibus oculis dormiunt multi homines, quos
corybantiare Graeci dicunt, _NH._ xi, 147. Excitement, beating
heart, weeping: Pl., _Smp._ 215 E. Maddened dance: ~hoi
korubantiô=ntes ouk e/mphrones o/ntes orchou=ntai~, _Ion_, 534 A.
"Sober drunkenness" ~me/thê nêpha/lios~ of the ~korub.~, Philo,
_Mund. Op._ 23, i, p. 16 M.--The name shows that those attacked by
the disease were regarded as "possessed" by the Korybantes.
~korubantia=n to\ Koru/basi kate/chesthai~, Sch. Ar., _V._ 9. The
Korybantes ~mani/as kai\ entheiasmou= eisin empoiêtikoi/~, ib. 8.
~e/ntheos ek semnô=n Koruba/ntôn~, E., _Hip._ 142; Sch. ad loc.:
~Koru/bantes mani/as ai/tioi. e/nthen kai\ koruba/ntia=n~.--Arrian
gives an unusually good account of the Korybantic frenzy of the
Phrygians in a little noticed passage ap. Eust. on D.P. 809:
~mai/nontai tê=| Rhe/a| kai\ pro\s Koruba/ntôn kate/chontai, ê/goun
korubantiô=si daimonô=ntes~ (i.e. possessed by the ~dai/môn~, see
Usener, _Götternamen_, 293). ~ho/tan de\ kata/schê| autou\s to\
thei=on, elauno/menoi kai\ me/ga boô=ntes kai\ orchou/menoi
prothespi/zousi ta\ me/llonta, theophorou/menoi kai\ maino/menoi~.
The complete similarity between this condition and that of the
Bacchic worship is sufficiently obvious.]
[19\9: Use of dance and music to cure those who are attacked by
Korybantic excitement: Pl., _Lg._ 790 DE, 791 A. More especially the
melodies for the flute composed by Olympos, being ~thei=a~, were
able to discover and cure those liable to Korybantic _ekstasis_ (by
means of the _inspiring_ effect which they had on such persons).
This is shown particularly by a passage in Plato (_Smp._ 215 C-E);
where it is evident that the ~korubantiô=ntes~ of 215 E are not to
be distinguished from the ~theô=n kai\ teletô=n deo/menoi~ of 215 C
(C states the general rule of which E is a particular application).
This homoeopathic cure of the ~korubantiô=ntes~ by the
intensification and subsequent discharge of the disorder is implied
in all that we hear of the character of the Phrygian mode as
~enthousiastikê/~ and of the ~me/lê Olu/mpou~ as exciting the souls
of men to "_enthousiasmos_"; Arist., _Pol._ 1340b, 4, 5, 1342b, 1
ff., 1340a, 8; [Pl.], _Min._ 318 B; Cic., _Div._ i, 114. The
~korubantiô=ntes~ are also meant in Arist., _Pol._ 8, 7, 1342a, 7 ff
~. . . kai\ ga\r hupo\ tau/tês tê=s kinê/seôs~ (i.e. ~tou=
enthousiasmou=) katakô/chimoi/ tine/s eisin; ek de\ tô=n hierô=n
melô=n horô=men tou/tous, ho/tan chrê/sôntai toi=s orgia/zousi tê\n
psuchê\n me/lesi, kathistame/nous hô/sper iatrei/as tucho/ntas kai\
katha/rseôs~. Plato's analysis (_Lg._ 790 D ff.) is exactly
parallel: the cure for the ~manikai\ diathe/seis~ of the Korybantic
patients is ~ouch hêsuchi/a alla\ tounanti/on ki/nêsis~, whereby
they are assisted to regain their ~he/xeis e/mphrones~. (It is from
this religio-musical procedure and not from strictly medical
experience or practice that Aristotle, taking a hint from Plato,
_Rp._ 606, derived his idea of the ~ka/tharsis tô=n pathêma/tôn~ by
violent discharge of the emotions and transferred it to
tragedy--not, as in the explanation to which some have recently
returned, by a tranquilization of the emotions in "a final
reconciliation".) This ~ka/tharsis~ and ~iatrei/a~ of the
~korubantiô=ntes~ is the object of the initiation ceremony of the
Korybantes (whose true ~ba/kchoi~ are the ~korubantiô=ntes~, i.e.
the worshippers who are in need of and capable of cure; of the
~Koruba/ntôn mustê/ria~ which are held ~epi\ katharmô=| tê=s
mani/as~ (Sch. Ar., _V._ 119-20, ~ekoruba/ntize~); cf. the ~teletê\
tô=n Koruba/ntôn~ (Pl., _Euthd._ 277 D, including ~_thro/nôsis_~: D.
Chr. 12, p. 388 R., § 33 Arn.; Lob., _Agl._ 116, 369. There is a
parody of ~thro/nôsis~ in the initiation scene of Ar., _Nub._ 254,
where Streps. sits ~epi\ to\n hiero\n ski/mpoda. tethronisme/nos
toi=s theoi=s~ = initiated {308} in _P. Mag. Lond._ 747 f. = Kenyon,
_Greek Papyri in B.M._ i, p. 108); and cf. the ~mêtrô=|a kai\
korubantika\ te/lê~: D.H., _Dem._ 22. At the initiation ceremony
(~korubantismo/s; ka/tharsis mani/as~ Hsch.) held in the
~Korubantei=on~ (Hdn. Gr. 1, 375, 15 Lentz; _App. Prov._ ii, 23) the
famous music of "inspiration" was played; there was also ~chorei/a~
(Pl. _Euthd._), ~ê=choi~ e.g. the sound of ~tu/mpana~ (Ar., _Ves._
120 f.; Luc. _DD._ 12, 1), and also it appears incense-burning:
~osmai/~, D.H., _Dem._ 22; cf. above, chap. viii, n. 39. All these
stimulants intensified the pathological tendency of the
~korubantiô=ntes~ and gave them relief by the violent discharge of
their emotions.--There is no need to doubt the actual occurrence of
such pathological states and their medical treatment by music, etc.
It was clearly the same type of psychopathical malady that invaded
Italy in the Middle Ages under the name of Tarantism, repeating its
attacks for several centuries; in this case, too, music (and even
the sound of a particular melody) served both to excite and
eventually to cure the violent dance-mania; cf. Hecker 172, 176
ff.--There seems to be a fabulous element in other stories current
in antiquity about the cure of madness, love-passions, and even
sciatica by the music of the flute (Pythagoras, Empedokles, Damon,
Thphr. _fr._ 87). Such belief in the curative powers of music, esp.
of the flute, seems to have been derived originally from actual
experience of the ~katha/rseis~ practised in Korybantic festivals,
and then to have been exaggerated into a fable. Even doctors had no
doubt that ~mani/a~ was curable by the _cantiones tibiarum_; see
Cael. Aur., _Morb. Chr._ i, 5, 175, 178 (Asklepiades); Cael. Aur.
(i.e. Soranos), ib. 176, however, denies it. It depended entirely
upon the theory, originally derived from ~korubantismo/s~, of cure
by intensification and discharge of the emotional state.]
[20\9: ~ô= ma/kar ho/stis . . . thiaseu/etai psucha/n, en o/ressi
bakcheu/ôn, hosi/ois _katharmoi=sin_~, E., _Ba._ 72 ff.--dicunt
sacra Liberi ad purgationem animae pertinere Serv. on Vg., _G._ ii,
389; cf. also on _A._ vi, 741.]
[21\9: ~Dio/nusos _lu/sios_~ (like ~D. meili/chios eleuthereu/s~ and
~saô/tês~) is rightly taken as the "freer from orgiastic frenzy"
(and not in the ordinary political sense) by Klausen, _Orpheus_, p.
26 [Ersch-Gruber] and Voigt in Roscher's _Lex._ i, 1062. That this
is the proper meaning of ~lu/sios~ is shown by its being contrasted
with ~bakchei=os~, which by common consent means the god ~ho\s
mai/nesthai ena/gei anthrô/pous~ (Hdt.); e.g. in Korinth, Paus. 2,
2, 6; Sikyon, Paus. 2, 7, 5-6. And ~D. bakcheu/s~ and ~meili/chios~
in Naxos, _Ath._ iii, 78 C.]
[22\9: In the ~kata/logos gunaikô=n~ as it seems; _fr._ 54 Rz. But
perhaps also in the _Melampodia_ (_fr._ 184 Kink.).]
[23\9: ~ema/nêsan, hôs Hêsi/odo/s phêsin, ho/ti ta\s Dionu/sou
teleta\s ou katede/chonto~. [Apollod.] 2, 2, 2, 2, and cf. 1, 9, 12,
8. The same story (only with the name Anaxagoras substituted for
that of his grandfather Proitos--doubtless on chronological grounds)
with the words ~ta\s Argei/as gunai=kas manei/sas dia\ tê\n
Dionu/sou mê=nin~: D.S. 4, 68, 4. (~mani/a~--in the reign of
Anaxagoras--Paus. 2, 18, 4; Eust., on _B_ 568, p. 288,
28).--Otherwise, it is generally Hera who sends the ~mani/a~
Akousil. ap. [Apollod.] 2, 2, 2, 2 [_fr._ 14 Diels]. Pherekyd. ap.
Sch. on ~o~ 225. Probus and Serv. on _Ecl._ vi, 48. This is a later
version of the legend depending upon a different interpretation of
the "insanity".]
[24\9: [Apollod.] 2, 2, 2. Acc. to Hdt. ix, 34, the treatment of
Melamp. was applied generally to all the ~Argei=ai gunai=kes~ (who
acc. to [Apollod.] § 5, were also attacked by the madness); cf. D.S.
4, 68, 4. (~. . . ta\s Argei/as ê\ hô/s tines ma=llo/n phasi, ta\s
Proiti/das~ Eustath. ~kata\ tê\n histori/an~). ~therapeu/ein~ is
D.S.' word; ~eka/thêren~, Sch. Pi., _N._ ix, 30; _purgavit_ Serv.]
{309}
[25\9: ~Mela/mpous paralabô\n tou\s dunatôta/tous tô=n neaniô=n
_met' alalagmou= kai/ tinos enthe/ou chorei/as_ ek tô=n orô=n auta\s
es Sikuô=na sunedi/ôxe~ (i.e. the frenzied women who had eventually
become very numerous: § 5, 6) [Apollod.] 2, 2, 2, 7. The account in
Pl., _Phdr._ 244 D, E, corresponds closely with the proceedings of
Melampous and perhaps refers to them: ~alla\ mê\n no/sôn ge kai\
po/nôn tô=n megi/stôn, ha\ dê\ palaiô=n ek mênima/tôn pothe\n e/n
tisi tô=n genô=n hê mani/a eggenome/nê kai\ prophêteu/sasa hoi=s
e/dei apallagê\n heu/reto, kataphugou=sa pro\s theô=n eucha/s te
kai\ latrei/as, ho/then dê\ _katharmô=n_ te kai\ teletô=n tuchou=sa
exa/ntê epoi/êse to\n heautê=s e/chonta pro/s te to\n paro/nta kai\
to\n e/peita chro/non, lu/sin tô=| orthô=s _mane/nti kai\
kataschome/nô|_ tô=n paro/ntôn kakô=n heurome/nê~. This is a
description of the remedial methods used in the Bacchic and
Korybantic _enthousiasmos_ but applied to special circumstances of
the mythical past which are regarded as the standard of all later
kathartic methods.]
[26\9: ~katharmoi/~ [Apollod.] § 8. The regular kathartic materials
are ~ski/lla, **a/sphaltos~, water, etc.; Diphilus, _fr._ 126 K.,
employs them all for his own purpose, ap. Clem. Al., _Str._ vii, p.
844 P. The black hellebore (~elle/boros me/las~) was popularly known
as ~melampo/dion~ because Melampous had first gathered and employed
it for the purpose (Thphr., _HP._ 9, 10, 4), esp. when he cured and
purified the ~Proi/tou thugate/ras manei/sas~ (Gal., _Atrabile_ 7 =
v, p. 132 K.; it can only be by mistake that he calls it the white
hellebore; cf. also Diosc. 4, 149, where the old ~kathartê/s~
becomes ~Mela/mpous tis aipo/los~ [hence Plin., _NH._ 25, 47]; the
reason may be elicited from Thphr., _HP._ 9, 10, 2). The place where
the ~katharmoi/~ took place and where the ~katha/rsia~ were thrown
away differed acc. to the natural features of the locality and the
convenience they offered: thus in Arcadia it was at Lousoi, in Elis
at the river Anigros, etc.; Ov., _M._ xv, 322 ff.; Vitr. 8, 3, 21;
Paus. 5, 5, 10; 8, 18, 7-8; cf. Call., _H. Art._ 233 f.; Str. 346,
etc.]
[27\9: Melampous ~He/llêsin ho exêgêsa/menos tou= Dionu/sou to/ te
ou/noma kai\ tê\n thusi/ên kai\ tê\n pompê\n tou= phallou=~, Hdt.
ii, 49. Hdt.'s elaborate theory in this passage of a connexion
between Mel. and Egypt, etc., is of course historically quite
worthless, but the fact that he pitched upon Melamp. especially as
the introducer of the Dionysiac religion can only have been due to
the existence of ancient tradition (i.e. legendary tradition of
course). There can be no doubt that he, like Hesiod, regarded as
_Dionysiac_ the frenzy in which the Argive women were said
~manê=nai~ and to have been healed by Melamp. (ix, 34).]
[28\9: ~Mela/mpous phi/ltatos ô\n Apo/llôni~, Hes., _Eoiai_, (168
Rz.) ap. Sch. A.R. i, 118. ~phi/los Apo/llôni~, D.S, 6, 7, 7 Dind.
The poet of the family tree of the Melampodidai given in ~o~ 244 ff.
undoubtedly regarded Melamp. as an Apolline ~ma/ntis~ (like all
~ma/nteis~ in Homer). This poet at least knows nothing of the
Dionysiac side of Melampous' activities. How Mel. met Apollo on the
banks of the Alphaios and from him received his consecration as true
~ma/ntis~, we learn from [Apollod.] 1, 9, 11, 3. The same is said of
Polypheides, a descendant of Mel. ~o~ 252: ~auta\r hupe/rthumon
Poluphei/dea ma/ntin Apo/llôn thê=ke brotô=n o/ch' a/riston, epei\
tha/nen Amphia/ros~. Another descendant of Melamp., Polyeidos, comes
to Megara to purify Alkathoös from the murder of his son, and founds
there a temple of _Dionysos_: Paus. 1, 43, 4.]
[29\9: See above, chap. iii, n. 32.]
[30\9: Plu., _Is. et O._ 35, p. 365 A. Sacrifice made by Agamemnon
to Dionysos ~en muchoi=s Delphini/ou par' a/ntra kerdô/|ou theou=~,
Lyc. 207 ff.]
[31\9: Plu., _E ap. D._ ix, p. 388 F. Three winter months were
sacred to Dionysos (cf. the three chief Dionysiac festivals at
Athens which {310} occurred in the months Gamelion, Anthesterion,
Elaphebolion). Only during these three months is the god on earth.
So, too, Kore shared her rule over the underworld with Aïdoneus for
three months (or six); the rest of the year she is on earth ~para\
mêtri\ kai\ a/llois athana/toisi~.]
[32\9: ~Dionu/sô| tô=n Delphô=n oude\n hê=tton ê\ tô=| Apo/llôni
me/testin~, Plu., _E ap. D._ ix, 384 D.]
[33\9: ~ta\ de\ nephô=n te/ estin anôte/rô ta\ a/kra (tou=
Parnasou=), kai\ hai Thuia/des epi\ tou/tois tô=| Dionu/sô| _kai\
tô=| Apo/llôni_ mai/nontai~, Paus. 10, 32, 7. Parnasus gemino petit
aethera colle, mons Phoebo Bromioque sacer, cui numine mixto
Delphica Thebanae referunt trieterica Bacchae, Luc., v, 72 ff. We
hear of a Delphos the son of Apollo and Thyia the first priestess
and Mainad of Dionysos at Delphi: Paus. 10, 6, 4.]
[34\9: Apollo himself in an oracular command ~Puthia/sin
pentetê/roisin . . . e/taxe Ba/kchou thusi/an chorô=n te pollô=n
kukli/an a/millan~; so says Philodamos of Skarpheia in the Paian
(second half fourth century B.C.) _BCH._ 1895, p. 408. We must
suppose, too, that this command (i.e. decree of the Delphic
priesthood) was actually carried out.]
[35\9: ~Delphoi\ de\ diplê=| prosêgori/a| timô=sin (se/~, i.e.
Apollo), ~Apo/llôna kai\ Dio/nuson le/gontes~, Men. Rhet., p. 446, 5
Sp.]
[36\9: _Arg._, Sch. Pi., _P._, p. 297, Böckh [p. 2, 5 ff. Drch.]: ~.
. . tou= prophêtikou= tri/podos~ (in Delphi) ~en hô=| prô=tos
Dio/nusos ethemi/steuse~. And again ~. . da/ktulon~ (a part of the
~no/mos Puthiko/s) apo\ Dionu/sou, ho/ti prô=tos hou=tos dokei= apo\
tou= tri/podos themisteu=sai~. As it has been previously said that
at the Delphic ~mantei=on _prô/tê_ Nu\x echrêsmô/|dêsen~, Dionysos
seems to be here regarded as ~pro/mantis~ of Nyx. Thus, at Megara
there was a temple of ~Dio/nusos Nukte/lios~ in the immediate
neighbourhood of, and in all probability closely associated with a
~Nukto\s mantei=on~: Paus. 1, 40, 6.]
[37\9: Paus. 1, 2, 5; Ribbeck, _Anf. d. Dionysoscult in Att._, p. 8
(1869); cf. Dem. 21, 52. Regulation of a festival of Dionysos in
Kolone by the Oracle: Paus. 3, 13, 7; in Alea, Paus. 8, 23, 1 (at
which women were scourged, a substitution for primitive human
sacrifice, as at the ~diamasti/gôsis~ in Sparta, of which Paus. is
reminded). Introduction of the worship of ~Dio/nusos Phallê/n~ at
Methymna by the oracle: Paus. 10, 19, 3.--At Magnesia on the
Maeander a plane-tree split by a storm revealed a statue of Dionysos
(a true ~Dio/nusos e/ndendros~). The Delphic oracle commanded the
ambassadors sent by the city to build a temple to Dionysos (who had
hitherto been without one in Magnesia and put a priest in charge of
it; then, for the institution of the cult they were to introduce
from Thebes Mainads of the family of Ino: ~Maina/das hai\ geneê=s
Einou=s a/po Kadmêei/ês~. (The cult of Dionysos was evidently
traditional at Thebes in this family which traced its descent from
Ino, the foster-mother of Dionysos.) The three Mainads obtained from
Thebes (called Kosko, Baubo, and Thettale instituted the cult of the
god and founded three ~thi/asoi~ arranged according to locality
(there were three ~thi/asoi~ in Thebes, too, E., _Ba._ 680 ff.).
They themselves remained in Magnesia till their death and were
buried with great ceremony by the city, Kosko on the "Hill of
Kosko", Baubo ~en Taba/rnei~, Thettale ~pro\s tô=| the/atrô|~. See
the ~archai=os chrêsmo/s~ with explanatory notes in prose, restored
by ~Apollô/neios Moko/llês, archai=os mu/stês~ (of Dionysos): _Ath.
Mitth._ 15 (1890), p. 331 f.]
[38\9: See Rapp, _Rhein. Mus._ 27. In spite of his quite correct
emphasis in general upon the ritual and purely formal character of
this sacred embassy and the dance-festival that followed, Rapp makes
the mistake of underestimating the ecstatic side of the Dionysiac
festivals--a side {311} which was once predominant and was always
liable to recur. (If this element had not been real there would have
been no need for a symbolical ritualistic imitation of such
~e/kstasis~). How even in later times a true ekstasis and
self-forgetfulness seized upon the Thyiades in their sacred
night-festivals and in consequence of the numerous stimulating
influences of the occasion, we can learn very clearly from
Plutarch's description of the Thyiads who wandered in their frenzy
to Amphissa (_Mul. Virt._ 13, 249 E). Rapp., p. 22, tries in vain to
upset the historical value of this account. Other points have
already been mentioned incidentally.]
[39\9: ~hê\n dia\ mantosu/nên tê\n hoi= po/re Phoi=bos Apo/llôn~ ~A~
72.]
[40\9: ~to\ a/technon kai\ adi/dakton (tê=s mantikê=s) toute/stin
enu/pnia kai\ enthousiasmou/s~ [Plu.] _Vit. Poes. Hom._ ii, 212. The
only form known to Homer is ~hê tô=n _emphro/nôn_ zê/têsis tou=
me/llontos dia/ te orni/thôn poioume/nê kai\ tô=n a/llôn sêmei/ôn~
(Pl., _Phdr._ 244 C).]
[41\9: The Ps.-Plutarch of the last note does, however, find in
Theoklymenos' position among the suitors, ~u~ 345-57 (in any case a
passage added by a later hand), a proof that he is an ~_e/ntheos_
ma/ntis, e/k tinos epipnoi/as sêmai/nôn ta\ me/llonta~. But in that
story the abnormal state belongs rather to the suitors than the
seer. See Lob., _Agl._ 264. Still less can we (with Welcker,
_Götterl._ ii, 11) deduce Homer's knowledge of ecstatic prophecy
from ~A~ 91 ff. or ~Ê~ 34-53. The derivation of the word ~ma/ntis~
from ~mai/nesthai~, frequently repeated since the time of Plato,
would make the ecstatic element predominant in the idea of the
prophet. But this derivation is quite uncertain and a connexion with
~manu/ô~ is much more probable.]
[42\9: Pytho: ~th~ 80, ~I~ 405. Dodona: ~P~ 234, ~x~ 327 f., ~t~ 296
f. An oracle is questioned perhaps in ~p~ 402 f. See Nägelsbach,
_Hom. Theol._, p. 181 f.]
[43\9: See Lob., _Agl._ 814 f. (even the regular use of the
expressions ~anei=len ho theo/s, hê puthi/a~ suffice to prove it).
Cf. also Bgk., _Gr. Lit._ i, 334. _h. Hom. Merc._ in its own fashion
(552-66) tells how the god deserted the "lot" oracle at Delphi as
too unreliable and unworthy of the god.]
[44\9: Even the case of Helenos is no real example of this: ~Ê~ 44
([Plu.] _Vit. Hom._ ii, 212, seems to regard it as one). Cic., _Div._
i, 89, expressly distinguishes the prophesying of Helenos from the
"enthusiastic" frenzy of Kassandra.]
[45\9: Even the _h. Hom. Merc._ to the Pythian Apollo, though it
describes the institution of the cult and oracle of Apollo at
Delphi, nowhere mentions the Pythia (as Lob., _Agl._ 264, very
pertinently remarks). (Acc. to 306 f. we must suppose that at that
time the prophesying was done exclusively by male ~ma/nteis~ or
~prophê=tai~.)]
[46\9: See Eur., _IT._ 1234 ff. Oracles of earth-divinities were
always given by _Incubation_. Even Cicero (_Div._ i, 38, following
Chrysippos it seems) refers to vis illa terrae, quae mentem Pythiae
divino afflatu **concitabat (as something that has disappeared). It
is often referred to by later authors. The placing of the tripod
over the chasm from which the vapour of inspiration came, is
certainly, with Welcker, _Götterl._ ii, 11, to be regarded as a
reminiscence of the ancient method of the earth-oracle which was
thus continued in the direct inspiration of Apollo. (The
~enthousiasmo/s~ does not exclude other stimulants. The Pythia
drinks from the inspired spring--like the ~ma/nteis~ at Klaros:
_Ath. Mitth._ xi, 430--and thereupon becomes ~e/ntheos~: Luc.,
_Herm._ 60. The prophetess of Apollo Deiradiotes at Argos by
drinking the sacrificial blood ~ka/tochos ek tou= theou=
**gi/netai~: Paus. 2, 24, 1. The Pythia chews the sacred
laurel-leaves to become inspired: Luc., _Bis Acc._ 1; also {312} the
~da/phnê, hê=s pote geusa/menos peta/lôn ane/phênen aoida\s auto\s
a/nax skêptou=chos~: _H. Mag._ ap. Abel, _Orphica_, p. 288. The holy
plant contains the _vis divina_ which one absorbs into oneself by
chewing. This is the crude, primitive idea underlying such actions,
as plainly appears in a similar case mentioned by Porph., _Abs._ ii,
48.)]
[47\9: e.g. in Sparta: ~e/stin eponomazo/menon Ga/sêpton hiero\n
Gê=s. Apo/llôn d' hupe\r **auto\ hi/drutai Malea/tês~, Paus. 3, 12,
8.--The legend of Apollo and Daphne symbolizes the overthrow of the
earth-oracle by Apollo and his own kind of prophecy.]
[48\9: See above, chap. iii, p. 97. Welcker, _Götterl._ i, 520 ff.]
[49\9: See above, p. 260 ff.]
[50\9: At Amphikleia in Phokis there was an oracle of Dionysos:
~pro/mantis de\ ho hiereu/s esti, chra=| de\ ek tou= theou=
ka/tochos~, Paus. 10, 33, 11. The words of Cornutus probably refer
to Greece (chap. xxx, p. 59, 20 Lang): ~kai\ mantei=a e/sth' ho/pou
tou= Dionu/sou e/chontos . . . ~ cf. Plu., _Smp._ 7, 10, 17, p. 716
B: ~hoi palaioi\ to\n theo\n~ (Dionysos) ~mantikê=s pollê\n e/chein
hêgou=nto moi=ran~.]
[51\9: Dionysos the first giver of oracles at Delphi: Arg., Pi.
_Pyth._, p. 2, 7 Drch. (see above, n. 36). Voigt ap. Roscher, i,
1033-4, regards Apollo at Delphi as the heir of the Dionysiac
_mantikê_; but he considers Dionysos to have been in the same
condition as the Python who was overthrown and killed by Apollo--a
view that can hardly be justified. My own view is that Apollo, after
destroying the chthonic (dream) Oracle adopted from the _mantikê_ of
Dionysos the prophecy by _furor divinus_ which had been hitherto
unknown to him.--No one can seriously claim to have a clear certain
insight into the intricate and kaleidoscopic changes of power and
authority that finally led to the supremacy of the composite
Apolline cult in the violently disputed centre of Greek religion.]
[52\9: ~. . . ho/sous ex Apo/llônos manê=nai le/gousi~ (i.e. the
ancient ~chrêsmolo/gous~), Paus. 1, 34, 4. ~mani/a tou=
chrêsmolo/gou~, Diogen., _Pr._ 6, 47. So, too, ~epi/pnoia~: Sittl,
_Gebärden der Gr. u. R._ 345. ~ho enthousiasmo\s epi/pneusi/n tina
thei/an e/chein dokei=~, Str. 467.--~hoi numpho/lêptoi kai\
theo/lêptoi tô=n anthrô/pôn, epipnoi/a| daimoni/ou tino\s hô/sper
enthousia/zontes~, _Eth. Eud._ i, 1, 4, 1214a, 23.]
[53\9: Ecstatic condition of the Pythia: D.S. xvi, 26; misconstrued
in a Christian sense, Sch. Ar., _Plu._ 39 (see Hemsterh. ad loc.).
~ho/lê gi/gnetai tou= theou=~, Iamb., _Myst._ 3, 11, p. 126, 15
Parthey. Description of a case in which the prophesying Pythia
became completely ~e/kphrôn~: Plu., _Def. Or._, 51, p. 438 B.]
[54\9: In the inspired _mantikê_ the soul becomes "free" from the
body: animus ita solutus est et vacuus ut eo plane nihil sit cum
corpore, Cic., _Div._ i, 113; cf. 70. (~kath' heautê\n gi/gnetai hê
psuchê/~ in dreaming and ~mantei=ai~: Arist. ap. S.E., _M._ 9, 21
[_fr._ 10 R.]. ~e/oike hê archê\~ (of ~nou=s) apoluome/nou tou=
lo/gou **ischu/ei ma=llon~ in _enthousiasmos_, _EE._ 1248a, 40; cf.
1225A, 28.) This is ~e/kstasis~ of the understanding itself: see
above, p. 260 ff. At other times it is said that the god enters into
men and fills their souls; whereupon the man is ~e/ntheos~: see
above, chap. viii, n. 50; cf. _pleni et mixti deo vates_, Minuc. 7,
6. The priestess at the oracle of Branchidai ~de/chetai to\n
theo/n~, Iamb., _M._ 3, 11, p. 127, 7 Par.--~exoiki/zetai ho en
hêmi=n nou=s kata\ tê\n tou= thei/ou pneu/matos a/phixin, kata\ de\
tê\n metana/stasin autou= pa/lin esoiki/zetai ktl~: Philo, _Q. rer.
div._ 53, i, p. 511 M., speaking of the ~e/ntheos katochôtikê/ te
mani/a, hê=| to\ prophêtiko\n ge/nos chrê=tai~ (p. 509 M.); cf. also
_Spec. Leg._ i, p. 343 M. This also was the idea prevailing at
Delphi. Plu., _Def. Or._ 9, p. 414 E, rejects as ~eu/êthes, to\
oi/esthai to\n theo\n auto/n, hô/sper tou\s eggastrimu/thous, {313}
enduo/menon eis ta\ sô/mata tô=n prophêtô=n hupophthe/ggesthai,
toi=s ekei/nôn sto/masi kai\ phônai=s chrô/menon orga/nois~. But
this was evidently the ordinary and deep-rooted opinion (~to\n
theo\n eis sô=ma katheirgnu/nai thnêto/n~, Plu., _Pyth. Or._ 8, p.
398 A). The primitive idea is naively expressed by a late magic
papyrus (Kenyon, _Gk. Pap. in BM._ i, p. 116 [1893], No. 122 [fourth
century B.C.] l. 2 ff.): ~elthe/ moi, ku/rie Hermê= hôs ta\ bre/phê
eis ta\s koili/as tô=n gunaikô=n ktl.~--Neither in _mantikê_ nor in
~e/kstasis~ is any great distinction made between the out-going of
the soul and the in-coming of the god: the two ideas merge together.
The condition is regarded as one in which two persons are united and
become one; the human being ~hoi=on a/llos geno/menos kai\ ouk
auto/s, theo\s geno/menos ma=llon de\ ô/n~, no longer experiencing a
sense of division between himself and divinity ~metaxu\ ga\r oude/n,
oud' e/ti du/o all' he/n a/mphô~ (as the subtle mysticism of
Plotinos describes ~e/kstasis~, 6, 9, 9-10; 6, 7, 34-5). In the
above-mentioned magic invocation of Hermes the ~go/ês~ who has
conjured the god into himself says to the god (l. 36 ff., p. 117)
~su\ (soi~ MSS.) ~ga\r egô\, kai\ egô\ su/ (soi~ MSS.) ~; to\ so\n
o/noma emo\n kai\ to\ emo\n so/n; egô\ ga/r eimi to\ ei/dôlo/n sou
ktl.~ [Cf. Swinburne, _Songs before Sunrise_ ii, 74 f.]]
[55\9: So Bergk, _Gr. Lit._ i, 335, n. 58. The verses of the oracle
are regarded as the god's own: Plu., _Pyth. Or._ v, 396 C ff. Since
the god himself speaks out of her the Pythia can properly speaking
only give true oracles ~ouk apoda/mou Apo/llônos tucho/ntos~, Pi.,
_P._ iv, 5; i.e. when Apollo is present at Delphi and not (as he is
in winter) far away among the Hyperboreans. This was why oracles
were originally only given in the spring month _Bysios_ (Plu., _Q.
Gr._ 9) in which apparently the ~theopha/nia~ occurred (Hdt. i, 51).
Just as in the case of the old oracular earth-spirits (see above,
chap. iii, n. 12) who were confined to special localities, so in the
case of the gods who work through the ~enthousiasmo/s~ of an
inspired prophetess, their personal presence in the temple at the
time of the prophesying is requisite. This presence is thought of as
actual and corporeal in the primitive form of the belief (though it
was got over and reinterpreted in later times), and therefore in the
case of the gods can only be temporary. When, in summer, Apollo is
in Delos (Vg., _A._ iv, 143 ff.), no ~chrêstê/rion~ takes place in
the temple of Apollo at Patara in Lykia (Hdt. i, 182). And so in
general ~phugo/ntôn ê\ metasta/ntôn (tô=n peri\ ta\ mantei=a kai\
chrêstê/ria tetagme/nôn daimoni/ôn) apoba/llei tê\n du/namin (ta\
mantei=a)~, Plu., _DO._ 15, p. 418 D.]
[56\9: The cult of Zeus in Crete was held ~met' orgiasmou=~: Str.
468. The same applies to the cult offered in many places to the
various and very different female deities who were generally
combined together under the name of Artemis: Lob., _Agl._ 1085 ff.;
Meineke, _An. Al._ 361. In their case Asiatic influence was at work
sometimes, but by no means always: Welcker, _Götterl._ i, 391;
Müller, _Dorians_, i, 404 ff. The worship of Pan was also orgiastic.
Otherwise we find it principally in foreign worships that had made
their way at an early period into private cults: e.g. the Phrygian
worship of Kybele, etc. These easily combined with the Bacchic
worship and became almost indistinguishable from it; sometimes they
even allied themselves with true Greek cults, with that of Pan, for
example, which was closely assimilated both to the worship of Kybele
and that of Dionysos. It remains obscure how far the Cretan cult of
Zeus was affected by Phrygian elements.]
[57\9: A remarkable example is given by Herod. (ix, 94), who tells
us of the blind Euenios in Apollonia who suddenly became possessed
of {314} ~e/mphutos mantikê/~ (not acquired by learning). He is a
true ~theo/mantis~ (Pl., _Ap._ 22 C).]
[58\9: The ancients knew quite well that ~Ba/kis~ and ~Si/bulla~
were really _common nouns_ denoting inspired ~chrêsmô|doi/~: thus
the ~Si/bulla~ is the ~parônumi/a~ of Herophile, Plu., _P. Or._ 14,
p. 401 A, and ~Ba/kis~ an ~epi/theton~ of Peisistratos, Sch. Ar.,
_Pax_ 1071. The words are clearly used to denote whole classes of
individuals by Arist., _Prob._ 954a, 36: ~nosê/mata manika\ kai\
enthousiastika/~ are liable to attack ~Si/bullai kai\ Ba/kides kai\
hoi e/ntheoi pa/ntes~. And in general when the ancients speak in the
singular of "the Sibyl" or "Bakis", the word is generally meant as a
class-name; just as for the most part when ~hê Puthi/a, hê
**Puthia/s~ occurs it is not a particular individual Pythia who is
meant but the class-concept of "the Pythia" (or some particular
member of the class actually functioning at the moment). Hence it is
by no means certain that Herakleitos, etc., when they speak simply
of ~hê Si/bulla~, and Herod. when he says ~Ba/kis~ were of the
opinion that there was only one Sibyl and one Bakis.--It must be
admitted that we do not know the real meaning of these adjectival
words themselves, their etymology being quite uncertain. Was the
ecstatic character of these prophets already expressed in their
titles? ~sibullai/nein~, of course = ~enthe/azein~ (D.S. 4, 66, 7),
but the verb is naturally enough derived from the name ~Si/bulla~,
just as ~baki/zein~ is from ~Ba/kis~, ~erinu/ein~, from ~Erinu/s~
and not vice versa. Nor can we tell how far the personal names
attached to certain Sibyls and Bakides have real historical
significance. Sibyl names are Herophile, Demophile (abbreviated to
Demo, ~Phutô/~ or perhaps rather ~Phoitô/~; cf. ~phoita\s
agu/rtria~, A., _Ag._ 1273 (so Lachmann on Tib. 2, 5, 68): the
Arcadian Bakis was called Kydas or Aletes (cf. ~Phoitô/~) acc. to
Philetas Eph. ap. Sch. Ar., _Pa._ 1071. It is impossible to extract
from the by no means scanty materials any real element of historical
fact with respect to these stories of individual Sibyls. Most
untrustworthy of all in this as in all he says on this subject is
Herakleides Pont. and his story of the Phrygian (or Trojan) Sibyl:
we might be more inclined to believe what Eratosthenes reported acc.
to the _antiquis annalibus Samiorum_ of a Samian Sibyl (Varro ap.
Lactant., _Inst._ 1, 6, 9)--if it had not included so entirely
worthless a story as that preserved in Val. M. 1, 5, 9.--Clem. Al.,
_Str._ i, 21, p. 398 P., gives after Bakis a whole list of
~chrêsmô|doi/~ with names: they evidently do not all belong to
legend, but hardly one of them is otherwise known to us. The
following are possibly real persons belonging to the prophetic
period: Melesagoras of Eleusis who prophesied in Athens like another
Bakis ~ek numphô=n ka/tochos~: Max. Tyr. 38, 3 (there is not a
shadow of a reason for identifying him with Amelesagoras, the author
of an alleged ancient Atthis: Müller, _FHG._ ii, 21); Euklos of
Cyprus whose ~chrêsmoi/~ written in the old Cypriote language
inspire a certain confidence (M. Schmidt, _Kuhns Ztschr._ 1860, p.
161 ff.): unfortunately he wrote before Homer: Paus. 10, 24, 3;
Tat., _Gr._ 41, which makes his personality dubious again.]
[59\9: Of this description were the ~chrêsmolo/goi~ of the fifth and
fourth--even of the expiring sixth--centuries (Onomakritos belongs
entirely to this class). Lob., _Agl._ 978 ff., 932. It is very
rarely that we hear in these times of real prophets on their own
account, prophesying in the _furor divinus_, like that Amphilytos of
Acarnania who met Peisistratos as he returned from Eretria before
the battle ~epi\ Pallêni/di~ and prophesied to him ~enthea/zôn~
(Hdt. i, 62 f.; he is an Athenian in [Pl.] _Thg._ 124 D--where he is
mentioned side by side with ~Ba/kis te {315} kai\ Si/bulla~--and in
Clem. Al., _Str._ i, 21, p. 398 P.). In the same way occasional
"Sibyls" occur even in late times (Phaennis, Athenais: see
Alexandre, _Or. Sib._^1 ii, p. 21, 48).]
[60\9: Herakl. Pont. ap. Cl. Al., _Str._ i, 21, p. 384 P., seems to
have been the first to speak definitely of _two_ Sibyls, Herophile
of Erythrai and the Phrygian Sibyl (whom he identifies with the
Marpessian Sibyl or the S. of Gergis: Lact. 1, 6, 12, see Alexandre,
ii, p. 25, 32. Philetas ap. Sch. Ar., _Av._ 962, follows him except
that he adds a third, the Sardian). The Phrygian-Trojan Sibyl is
dated by Herakleides in the times of "Solon and Cyrus" (Lact.); we
cannot tell what date he assigned to the Erythraean. Perhaps it was
only after his times that the ~chrêsmoi/~ of Herophile first
appeared in which she prophesied the ~Trôïka/~. From these verses it
was now deduced that she lived before the Trojan war: so Paus. 10,
12, 2, and even Apollodoros of Erythrai (Lact. 1, 6, 9).
Thenceforward the name of Herophile was associated with the idea of
extreme antiquity. (The Libyan Sibyl of Paus. who is said to be the
oldest of all is merely an invention of Euripides and never really
obtained currency: ~Li/bussa = Si/bulla~ anagrammatically. See
Alexandre, p. 74 f.) Herophile was identified also with the ~prô/tê
Si/bulla~ who came to Delphi and prophesied there: Plu., _P.Or._ 9,
398 C; expressly so by Paus. 10, 12, 1, and Bocchus ap. Solin. 2, p.
38, 21-4 Mom. Acc. to Herakleides (ap. Clem. Al.) it was rather the
~Phrugi/a~ who calling herself Artemis prophesied in Delphi (so,
too, Philetas following Herakl. and see also Suid. ~Sib. Delphi/s~).
This is due to the local patriotism of the inhabitants of the Troad.
Their Sibyl is the Marpessian (= the ~Phrugi/a~ of Herakl.). The
artificial sort of interpretation and forgery that enabled a local
historian of the Troad (it cannot have been Demetrios of Skepsis) to
identify the Marpessian Sibyl, who also called herself Artemis, with
Herophile and turn her into the true ~eruthrai/a~, may be guessed
from Paus. 10, 12, 2 ff. (The same source as that of Paus. is used
by St. Byz. s. ~Mermêsso/s~, as Alexandre, p. 22, rightly remarks.)
The Erythraean claim to Herophile was also disputed from other
directions. The Erythraean is distinguished from Herophile as being
later by Bocchus ap. Solin. 2, p. 38, 24; and in a different fashion
the same is done by Mart. Cap. ii, 159. Acc. to Eus., _Chr._ 1305
Abr. (not Eratosthenes in this case) even the Samian Sibyl was
identified with Herophile--to say nothing of the Ephesian Herophile
in the fragg. of the enlarged Xanthos, _FHG._ iii, 406-8. From the
fable of the Marpessian Herophile was later invented the story of
her prophecy to Aeneas: Tib. 2, 5, 67; D.H. 1, 55, 4; Alexandre, p.
25.--In comparison with these different claimants to the name of
Herophile (even the Cumaean Sibyl was said to be the same as
Herophile) the rest of the Sibyls were hardly able to obtain a real
footing in tradition.]
[61\9: The Erythraean Sibyl was dated by Eusebius in Ol. 9, 3 (the
absurd addition ~en Aigu/ptô|~ belongs only to the author of the
_Chron. Pasc._ and not to Eus.: Alexandre, p. 80); he dated the
Samian in Ol. 17, 1 (it is quite arbitrary to refer this view to
Eratosthenes). Acc. to Suid. ~Si/bulla Apo/llônos kai\ Lami/as~ the
Erythraean lived 483 years after the fall of Troy: i.e. Ol. 20, 1
(700 B.C.). Herakleides put the Phrygo-Trojan Sib. in the times of
Solon and Kyros (to which Epimenides also belongs and to which
Aristeas and Abaris were supposed to belong). We can no longer
discover or guess at the reasons for these datings. In any case the
Chronologists to whom they go back evidently regarded the Sibyls as
later than the earliest Pythia at Delphi. Even the Cumaean Sibyl was
not to be distinguished {316} from the Erythraean: [Arist.] _Mirab._
95, which perhaps comes from Timaeus; Varro ap. Serv. _A._ vi, 36;
cf. D.H. 4, 62, 6. In spite of which she is a contemporary of
Tarquinius Priscus (this was enough to distinguish the _Cimmeria in
Italia_ who prophesied to Aeneas from the Cumaean Sibyl: Naev. and
Calp. Piso in Varro ap. Lact. 1, 6, 9). Naturally in these
chronological straits recourse was had to the favourite device of
such accounts--unnatural longevity. The Sibyl is ~poluchroniôta/tê~
[Arist.]: she lived a thousand years or thereabouts: Phleg., _Macr._
4 (the oracle of this passage was also known to Plu.; cf. _PO._ 13,
401 B; a similar source inspires Ov., _M._ xiv, 132-53. In this case
the Sibyl has already lived 700 years before the arrival of Aeneas,
and she will live another 300, which would bring her--by a rather
inexact calculation--to about the time of Tarquinius Priscus). In
the verses found at Erythrae belonging to a statue of the Sibyl
(Buresch, _Woch. Klass. Phil._ 1891, p. 1042; _Ath. Mitt._ 1892, p.
20), the Erythraean Sibyl is said to live 900 years--unfortunately
one cannot be sure that this means till the time of the inscr.
itself and of the ~ne/os kti/stês~ of Erythrai in the age of the
Antonines who is referred to at the close. If so the Sibyl would
have been born about the year 700 B.C. (as in Suid.) or a little
earlier. Perhaps, however, the lengthy period refers to the life
time of the long since dead Sibyl herself, while the ~au=this d'
entha/de egô\ hê=mai~ of l. 11 f. only applies to the statue. In
which case the commencement and end of the Sibyl's lifetime would be
unknown.--_Cumaeae saecula vatis_ became proverbial: Alexandre, p.
57. Finally the Sibyl was regarded as entirely forgotten by death,
as in the story in Petronius 48 (cf. also--probably referring to
Erythrai--Ampel., _LM._ viii, 15; _Rh. Mus._ 32, 639).]
[62\9: ~r~ 383 ff.]
[63\9: The Sibyl is overcome by the _furor divinus_ in such a way ut
quae sapiens non videat ea videat insanus, et si qui humanos sensus
amiserit divinos assecutus sit, Cic., _Div._ ii, 110; cf. i, 34.
~nosê/mata manika\ kai\ enthousiastika/~ of Sibyls and Bakids Arist.
_Prob._ 30, 1, 954a, 36. The Sibyl prophesies ~mantikê=| chrôme/nê
enthe/ô|~, Pl., _Phdr._ 244 B. ~mainome/nê te kai\ ek tou= theou=
ka/tochos~, Paus. 10, 12, 2. deo furibunda recepto, Ov., _M._ xiv,
107. There is in her divinitas et quaedam caelitum societas, Plin.,
_NH._ vii, 119. ~katochê\ kai\ epi/pnoia~ [Just.], _Co. ad. Gr._,
37, 36 A. So, too, in our collections of Sibylline oracles the S.
often speak of their divine frenzy, etc.; e.g. ii, 4, 5; iii, 162
f., 295 f.; xi, 317, 320, 323 f.; xii, 294 f., etc. Frenzy of the
Cumaean S.: Vg., _A._ vi, 77 f.--Bakis has his prophetic gift from
the Nymphs (Ar., _Pa._ 1071), he is ~kata/schetos ek numphô=n,
manei\s ek numphô=n~ (Paus. 10, 12, 11; 4, 27, 4), ~numpho/lêptos~
(cf. ~theo/lêptos, phoibo/lêptos, pano/lêptos, mêtro/lêptos~;
_Lymphati_: Varro, _LL._ vii, p. 365 Sp., Paul. Fest., p. 120, 11
ff., Placid., p. 62, 15 ff. Deuerl.).]
[64\9: ~Si/bulla de\ mainome/nô| sto/mati ktl.~: Herakleitos ap.
Plu., _Pyth. Or._ 6, p. 397 A. _fr._ 12 By. = 92 Diels (the words
~chili/ôn . . . theou=~ are not H.'s but Plutarch's. Cl. Al., _Str._
1, 15, p. 358 P. uses only Plu.). To regard Herakleitos' Sibyl as
the Pythia (with Bgk., etc.) is absurd apart from the fact that the
Pythia is never called ~Si/bulla~. It is excluded by the way Plu.
introduces the word in this passage, and connects chap. 9 with chap.
6. It is true, though, that Pl. draws a _parallel_ between the
nature of the Sibyl and that of the Pythia.]
[65\9: Homer knows Kassandra as one of the daughters of Priam and
indeed as ~Pria/moio thugatrô=n ei=dos ari/stên~, ~N~ 365; probably
that it why she is allotted to Agamemnon as his share of the spoil
and why she is slain with him, ~l~ 421 ff. The ~Ku/pria~ is the
first to tell of her {317} prophetic skill. Was it the narrative of
~Ô~ 699 which first suggested to the ~neô/teroi~ the idea of her
knowledge of the future? (In reality that passage alludes rather to
the ~sumpa/theia~ of the sister and daughter and not to _mantikê_:
Sch. B. ad loc.) Her prophetic gifts were elaborated later in many
stories: e.g. Bacchyl. xiv, 50 = _fr._ 29 Bgk. (Porph. on Hor. _O._
i, 15). Aesch. represents her as the type of the ecstatic prophetess
(~phrenomanê/s, theopho/rêtos~, _Ag._ 1140, 1216). As such she is
called by Eur. ~mantipo/los ba/kchê~, _Hec._ 121. ~phoiba/s~ 827.
~to\ bakchei=on ka/ra tê=s thespiô|dou= Kassa/ndras~ 676. She wildly
shakes her head like the Bacchants ~ho/tan theou= manto/sunoi
pneu/sôs' ana/gkai~, _IA._ 760 ff.]
[66\9: About the Arcadian Bakis (Kydas or Aletes by name)
~_Theo/pompos_ en tê=| th' tô=n Philippikô=n a/lla te polla\
historei= para/doxa kai\ ho/ti pote\ tô=n Lakedaimoni/ôn ta\s
gunai=kas manei/sas eka/thêren, Apo/llônos tou/tois tou/ton
kathartê\n do/ntos~, Sch. Ar., _Pa._ 1071. The story is closely
parallel to that of Melampous and the Proitides, see above, nn.
22-5.]
[67\9: Cf. e.g. Hippocr. ~p. partheni/ôn~ (ii, p. 528 K.; viii, 468
L.). Upon their recovery from hysterical hallucinations the women
dedicate valuable ~hima/tia~ to Artemis ~keleuo/ntôn tô=n
_ma/nteôn_~. This is the regular name for the ~ma/goi, kathartai/,
agu/rtai~ (cf. Teiresias ~do/lios agu/rtês~, S., _OT._ 388;
Kassandra is accused of being ~phoita\s agu/rtria~, A., _Ag._ 1273).
Hp. speaks elsewhere also of their manner of healing epilepsy, i, p.
588 K. (vi, 354 L.).]
[68\9: ~katharmoi\ . . . _kata\ tê\n mantikê/n_~, Pl., _Crat._ 405
AB. The _~ma/nteis~_ are able e.g. to drive away by magic the mist
that is so dangerous for the olive-trees: Thphr., _CP._ 2, 7, 5. The
~_ma/nteis_ kai\ teratosko/poi, hagu/rtai kai\ _ma/nteis_~ possess
the arts of ~magganeu/mata, epô|dai/, katade/seis~ and ~epagôgai/~
which compel the gods to do their will, Pl., _Rp._ 364 BC; _Lg._ 933
CE. These ~ma/nteis~ correspond in all essentials to the magicians
and medicine men of savage tribes. Prophet, doctor, and magician are
here united in a single person. A mythical prototype of these Greek
"medicine men" is Apis, of whom we hear in Aesch., _Sup._ 260-70.
(The ~ma/nteis~ also officiate as sacrificial priests, esp. where
the sacrifice is combined with a special sacrificial
_mantikê_--quite unknown to Homer--in which the will of the gods is
inquired: Eur., _Hcld._ 401**, 819; _Ph._ 1255 ff. and frequently.
Hermann _Gottesdienstl. Alterth._ 33, 9.)]
[69\9: The clearest evidence for this is Hp., _Morb. Sacr._ (vi, 352
L.). See below, n. 81. Assistance in the case of internal diseases
is naturally sought in ancient times from magicians, for such
diseases arise immediately from the action of a god: ~stugero\s de/
hoi e/chrae dai/môn~, ~e~ 396 (cf. ~k~, 64), is said of an invalid
who lies ~dêro\n têko/menos~. Cf. ~nou=sos Dio\s mega/lou~, ~i~ 411.
In such cases help is sought from the ~iatro/mantis~ (A., _Sup._
263) who is at once ~ma/ntis~ and ~teratosko/pos~ and ~kathartê/s~
like his divine prototype Apollo: A., _Eum._ 62-3. In a long illness
King Kleomenes I of Sparta resorts to ~kathartai\ kai\ ma/nteis~,
Plu., _Ap. Lac._ 11, p. 223 E.]
[70\9: ~A~ 313 f.; ~ch~ 481 ff. Kathartic practices, however much
they may contain a primitive core, were fairly late in attaining
popularity in Greece (or in regaining a lost popularity): as is
shown esp. by the all but total absence of any mention of such
practices and the superstitions underlying them from Hesiod, _Op._,
which otherwise preserves the memory of so much countryside
superstition (something rather like it is perhaps to be found in
_Op._ 733-6).]
[71\9: Nothing is said in Homer of the purification of the murderer
or the homicide: see above, chap. v, n. 166.]
[72\9: Thus at the ~amphidro/mia~ all who have had anything to do
with {318} the ~mai/ôsis, apokathai/rontai ta\s chei=ras~ (Suid.
s.v.). But even the child is lustrated: it is carried in the arms of
a grown-up who runs with it round the altar and the altar fire:
clearly a vestige of the ~apotropiasmo\s kai\ ka/tharsis~ of the
child by sacred fire of which so many relics have been observed: see
Grimm, p. 625; Tylor, ii, 430 f.--Uncleanness of the pregnant woman
until the fortieth day after the child is born: Welcker, _Kl. Schr._
iii, 197-9. At the birth of a child crowns of olive-branches or
woollen fillets (~e/ria~) were in Attica hung up on the house-door;
just as cypress-branches were hung on the doors of houses where a
corpse lay (see above, chap. v, n. 39): for kathartic purposes
strings of onions (squills) were suspended on house-doors; see
below): Hsch. ~ste/phanon ekphe/rein~. Both are lustral materials.
Use of olive branches at ~katharmo/s~: S., _OC._ 483 f.; Vg., _A._
230. When a mother gives her child that is to be exposed a crown
made of olive branches (as in Eur., _Ion_, 1433 ff.), this, too, has
an apotropaic purpose as also has the Gorgon's head on the
embroidered stuff that also accompanies the child (l. 1420 f.): see
on this O. Jahn, _Bös. Blick_, 60. The olive is also sacred to the
~chtho/nioi~ (hence its use as a bed for corpses: see above, chap.
v, n. 61; cf. ~toi=s apothanou=sin elaa=s sunekphe/rousin~: Artemid.
iv, 57, p. 236, 20 H. ~koti/nô| kai\ taini/a|~ the goddess crowns
Chios in his dream and points the man thus dedicated to death to his
~mnê=ma~: Chio, _Epist._ 17, 2). This makes the olive suitable for
lustration and ~apotropiasmoi/~. The house in which the child lay
was thus regarded as needing "purification". The "uncleanness" felt
to exist in this case is clearly expressed by Phot. ~rha/mnos;
ami/antos hê pi/tta; dio\ kai\ en tai=s gene/sesi tô=n paidi/ôn
(tau/tê|) chri/ousi ta\s oiki/as, _eis ape/lasin daimo/nôn_~ (see
above, chap. v, n. 95). It is the neighbourhood of these (chthonic)
~dai/mones~ that cause the pollution.]
[73\9: A., _Pers._ 201 ff., 216 ff.; Ar., _Ra._ 1340; Hp., _Insom._
(ii, p. 10, 13 K. = vi, p. 654 L.); cf. Becker, _Charicles_, p. 133,
n. 4 E.T.]
[74\9: Cf. Plu., _Sept. Sap. Conv._ iii, p. 149 D, and on this
Wyttenb. vi, p. 930 f.]
[75\9: Purification of houses (~ch~ 481 ff.); e.g. [D.] 47, 71. It
was customary to purify ~oiki/as kai\ pro/bata~ with black
hellebore: Thphr., _HP._ 9, 10, 4; Dsc. 4, 149 (hence the
superstitious details of its gathering, Thphr., _HP._ 9, 8, 8, and
Dsc.). The touching of the house by unholy daimones necessitates
purification: Thphr., _Ch._ 28 (16), 15, of the ~deisidai/môn; kai\
pukna\ de\ tê\n oiki/an katha=rai deino\s Heka/tês pha/skôn
epagôgê\n gegone/nai~.]
[76\9: Presence of a dead body in a house makes the water and fire
unclean; "clean" water and fire must then be brought in from
elsewhere. See Plu., _QG._ 24 (Argos), p. 297 A (see above, chap. v,
n. 38). At a festival of the dead in Lemnos all the fires were put
out (as unclean); "clean" fire was sought from Delos, and, after the
completion of the ~enagi/smata~ brought into the country and
distributed. Philostr., _H._ 19, 14, p. 206-8, 7 K.--Alexander was
following Greek, as well as Persian, customs when at the burial of
Hephaistion he allowed ~to\ para\ toi=s Pe/rsais kalou/menon hiero\n
pu=r~ to go out, ~me/chri a\n tele/sê| tê\n ekphora/n~, D.S. 17,
114, 4.]
[77\9: "When a Greek saw anyone using expiatory rites, he presumed
in that person the will to amend," Nägelsbach, _Nachhom. Theol._,
363. If this was really so it is strange that we never see this
"presumption" expressed in words. We do indeed read that the
~deisidai/môn~ mortifies himself and ~exagoreu/ei tina\s _hamarti/as
hautou=_ kai\ plêmmelei/as~, but in what do these ~hamarti/ai~
consist?--~hôs to/de phago/ntos ê\ pio/ntos ê\ badi/santos {319}
hodo\n hê\n ouk ei/a to\ daimo/nion~, Plu., _Superstit._ 7, p. 168
D: merely ritual omissions in fact, not moral transgressions at all.
It is the same everywhere in this domain. The conceptions underlying
purificatory practice certainly did not correspond to the refined
morality of later ages, but they continued in force so long as
_kathartikê_ remained popular: they are well expressed (though
disapprovingly) by Ovid in the well-known lines which we shall,
however, do well to recall: omne nefas omnemque mali purgamina
causam credebant nostri tollere posse senes. Graecia principium
moris fuit: illa nocentis impia lustratos ponere facta putat.--a!
nimium faciles, qui tristia crimina caedis fluminea tolli posse
putetis aqua, _F._ 2, 35 ff.; cf. Hp. i, p. 593 K., vi, 362 L.]
[78\9: We can only here allude to the remarkable parallel provided
by the purificatory and expiatory ritual of India, which is
completely analogous to the _kathartikê_ of Greece and had a similar
origin. Even in details Indian conceptions and procedure answer
closely to Greek. They are both as far removed as possible from all
idea of quieting a guilt-laden conscience and are directed solely
towards effacing, expunging, or expelling an external ~mi/asma~, a
pollution arriving from without, a taint arising from contact with a
hostile ~daimo/nion~ conceived as something in the nature of a
daimonic fluid. Indian sources are on this point very rich and full:
an excellent account of them is given by Oldenberg in his _Religion
des Veda_ (esp. Fr. tr. 243 ff.; 417 ff.). Greek and Indian
practices illuminate each other. It would be a valuable experiment
to take the highly elaborated kathartic ritual of the Avesta and
compare it with the history and technique of purification and
expiation in Greek religion. It would mean renewing Lomeier's old
book [_Epimenides s. de lustrat._ Zutphen 1700]: the materials are
very scattered and the ground has never been thoroughly gone over
since then. By the help also of the "comparative" method of
religious study, which in this case is quite justified, it would
then be possible to reconstruct a most important fragment of
primitive _religio_--a fragment which had become almost entirely
forgotten in Homeric times, which then recovered its ancient
influence and continued to develop and was even transmitted to the
ritual of the Christian church (cf. Anrich, _D. ant. Mysterienw._
190 f.). We must be careful, however, to shut our ears to the
otherwise very convincing people who are so anxious to introduce
purely _moral_ interests and conceptions into ancient _religio_.
Morality is a later achievement in the life-history of the children
of men: this fruit did not grow in Eden.]
[79\9: See Appendix v.]
[80\9: What the Greeks meant by ~mi/asma~ can be very clearly seen,
e.g. in the conversation between Phaidra and her nurse in Eur. _Hp._
316 ff. Phaidra's distress of mind is not derived from a deed of
blood: ~chei=res me\n hagnai/~ she says ~phrê\n d' e/chei mi/asma/
ti~. Does the Nurse think of any _moral_ disgrace or defilement of
the distressed woman in this ~phreno\s mi/asma~? Not at all: she
only asks, ~mô=n ex epaktou= pêmonê=s echthrô=n tinos?~ in other
words by "defilement of the mind" she can only conceive of an
enchantment, something from without that comes, by ~epagôgê\ tinô=n
daimoni/ôn~ (see below, n. 108), a stain derived from the polluting
neighbourhood of such daimones. This was the general and popular
conception. (Taken literally Plato's words also give expression to
the popular conception: ~pollô=n o/ntôn kai\ kalô=n en tô=| tô=n
anthrô/pôn bi/ô|, toi=s plei/stois autô=n hoi=on _kê=res_
epipephu/kasin, hai\ katamiai/nousi/ te kai\ katarrupai/nousin
auta\~, _Lg._ 937 D.)] {320}
[81\9: Diseases come ~palaiô=n ek mênima/tôn~, Pl., _Phdr._ 244 DE;
i.e. from the rage of departed generations of souls or of
~chtho/nioi~, Lob., _Agl._ 635-7. Esp. madness is a ~nosei=n ex
alasto/rôn~, S., _Tr._ 1325, a ~ta/ragma tarta/reion~, E., _HF._ 89.
Cure of such diseases is undertaken not by doctors but by
~kathartai/, ma/goi kai\ agu/rtai~, expiatory priests with magic
proceedings--this is well shown by the treatment of the "sacred
disease" in Hp., _Morb. Sac._, p. 587-94 K = vi, 352-64 L. Such
people, introducing themselves as magicians in the strict sense (p.
358 L.), use no regular medicinal treatment (356), but operate
partly with ~katharmoi/~ and ~epô|dai/~, partly with various
prescriptions of abstinence ~hagnei=ai kai\ katharo/têtes~. These
last are explained by Hp. on dietetic grounds but the _Kathartai_
themselves derived them from ~to\ thei=on kai\ to\ daimo/nion~
(358). And such they were evidently in intention. The account of
such prescriptions given on pp. 354-6 mostly refers to abstentions
from plants and animals supposed to be sacred to the underworld.
Noticeable also: ~hima/tion me/lan mê\ e/chein, _thanatô=des_ ga\r
to\ me/lan~ (all trees with black berries or fruit belong to the
_inferi_: Macr. 3, 20, 3). Other superstitions are found with these:
~mêde\ po/da epi\ podi\ e/chein, mêde\ chei=ra epi\ cheiri/; tau=ta
ga\r pa/nta _kôlu/mata_ ei=nai~. The belief is familiar from the
story of the birth of Herakles. See Welcker, _Kl. Schr._ iii, 191.
Sittl, _Gebärden_ 126. (Something of the kind in _P. Mag. Par._ 1052
ff., p. 71 Wess.) The source of the disease was, however, always
supposed to be the direct influence of a ~dai/môn~ (360-2) which
must therefore be averted. Acc. to popular belief it is always God
who ~to\ anthrô/pou sô=ma miai/nei~ (cf. p. 362). For this reason
the magicians purify, ~kathai/rousi~, the sick ~hai/masi kai\
toi=sin a/lloisi~ which are used to purify people ~mi/asma/ ti
e/chontas~ or on whom a curse has been laid. The ~katha/rsia~ are
buried or thrown into the sea (~kai\ eis ha/la lu/mat' e/ballon~,
_A_ 314), or carried away into a deserted mountain district (p.
362). Such ~katha/rsia~ are now the resting place of the ~mi/asma~
that has been washed off, and so the magician drives ~eis ore/ôn
kephala\s nou/sous te kai\ a/lgê~, Orph. _H._ 36, 16. Similarly in
India, Oldenberg 495.]
[82\9: _Epôdai_ used for stopping the flow of blood, ~t~ 457.
Frequently mentioned in later times: particularly used in the magic
cure of epilepsy, Hp. vi, 352-4; [D.] 25, §§ 79-80. When houses and
hearths are purified by being sprinkled with hellebore
~sunepa/|dousi/ tina epô|dê/n~, Thphr. _HP._ 9, 10, 4
(_comprecationem solemnem_ is Pliny's trans., _NH._ 25, 49). Pains
of childbirth prevented or alleviated by _epôdai_, Pl., _Tht._ 149
CD. (Much more of the kind in Welcker, _Kl. S._ iii, 64 ff.) The
essential meaning of such _epôdai_ is regularly an appeal or
exorcism addressed to the daimonic creature (clearly an appeal when
lions or snakes are appeased in this way: Welcker, iii, 70, 14-15).
_Epôdai_ accompanying ~rhizotomi/a~ are ~epiklê/seis~ of the
~dai/môn hô=| hê bota/nê anie/rôtai~: _P. Mag. Par._ 2973 ff. The
meaning of such "conjurings" addressed to diseases--when the daimon
is exorcised--is clearly seen in what Plotin. says of the Gnostics:
they claimed to heal the sick by means of ~_epaoidai/_, me/lê,
ê=choi~, and ~_kathai/resthai_ no/sôn, hupostêsa/menoi ta\s no/sous
_daimo/nia_ ei=nai, kai\ ta\ toiau=ta exairei=n _lo/gô|_ pha/skontes
du/nasthai~, 2, 9, 14.]
[83\9: Clashing of bronze used at ~apokatha/rseis~ to drive away
ghosts: see above, chap. v, n. 167; cf. also Macr. 5, 19, 11. Claud.
_iv. Cons. Hon._ 149: nec te (like Juppiter) progenitum Cybeleius
aere sonoro lustravit Corybas. The noise of bronze has a kathartic
effect simply as averting ghosts. In the process of driving out the
ghosts at the _Lemuria_, Temesaea concrepat aera, Ov., _F._ 5, 441.
Hence (?) ~chalkou= {321} auda\n chthoni/an, E., _Hel._ 1346. At
eclipses of the sun or moon ~kinou=si chalko\n kai\ si/dêron
a/nthrôpoi pa/ntes~ (cf. Plu., _Aem._ 17; Juv. vi, 443; Mart. xii,
57, 16 f., etc.) ~_hôs tou\s dai/mones apelau/nontes_~, Al. Aphr.,
_Prb._ 2, 46, p. 65, 28 Id. This is the object of the _crepitus
dissonus_ at eclipses of the moon: Plin., _NH._ ii, 54; Liv. xxvi,
5, 9; Tac., _A._ i, 28, and cf. Tib. i, 8, 21 f.; _ob strias_:
[Aug.] _Sacrileg._ v, 16, with Caspari's refs., p. 31 f.]
[84\9: ~pho/nô| pho/non ekni/ptein~, E., _IT._ 1233. Purgantur
cum cruore polluuntur . . . Heraclit. (p. 335, 5 Schust. [5
D. = 130 B.]).]
[85\9: A.R. iv, 703 ff. ~katharmoi=s choirokto/nois . . .~: A.,
_Eum._ 283, 449, ~hai/matos katharsi/ou~; cf. Müller, _Aesch. Eum._
124. Representation of the ~katharmo/s~ of Orestes on well-known
vase-paintings: _Mon. d. inst._ iv, 48, etc.]
[86\9: The "purification" of the stain of blood in these and similar
cases really consisted in a "substitution" sacrifice whereby the
anger of the daimones was appeased: so much was, on the whole
correctly, observed long ago by Meiners, _Allg. Gesch. der relig._
ii, 137. The ~mi/asma~ that clings to the murderer is in fact just
the indignation of the murdered man or of the underworld spirits:
this is plain in Antiph., _Tet._ 3~a~, 3 (see above, chap. v, n.
176). The thing that makes the son who has not avenged his father's
murder "unclean" and keeps him away from the altars of the gods is
~ouch horôme/nê patro\s mê=nis~ A., _Ch._ 293.--In the case of
murder or homicide there is not only the contact with the sinister
other-world that makes men unclean (this applies to all cases of
"pollution"), but, besides this, there is also the anger of the
murdered soul itself (and of its protecting spirits). Hence in
_this_ case, besides ~katharmo/s, hilasmo/s~ as well is necessary
(see above, chap. v). It is evident, however, that it would be
difficult to keep the two processes distinct and that they would
easily merge into each other.]
[87\9: The ~pharmakoi/~ are put to death at the _Thargelia_ of Ionic
cities: Hipponax _fr._ 37. In other places on extraordinary
occasions, but regularly at the Thargelia in Athens. This is denied
by Stengel, _Hermes_, 22, 86 ff., but in the face of definite
statements from antiquity general considerations can have no weight.
In addition it was only a special mode of execution applied to
criminals already condemned to death. (Two men, acc. to Harp. 180,
19: a man and a woman Hsch. ~pharmakoi/~: the variation is explained
by Hellad. ap. Phot., _Bibl._, p. 354a, 3 ff. Bk.) The ~pharmakoi/~
serve as ~katha/rsia~ to the city (Harp. 180, 19 Bk.): Hippon. _fr._
4; Hellad. ap. Sch. Ar., _Eq._ 1136. ~pharmako/s = ka/tharma~,
Phot., _Lex._ 640, 8 Pors. The ~pharmakoi/~ were _either_ burnt
(after being put to death) like other propitiatory victims: Tz.,
_Ch._ v, 736, prob. following Hippon. (the burning of the ~pharm.~
at Athens seems to be alluded to by Eup. ~Dê=m.~ 120 [i, 290 K.]);
_or_ stoned: this form of death is implied (in the case of Athens)
by the legend of Istros ap. Harp. 180, 23. Analogous customs
(indicated by Müller, _Dorians_, i, 345) at Abdera: Ov., _Ib._ 465
f. (which acc. to the Sch. is taken from Call., who evidently
transferred to Apollonios the pious wish directed by Hippon. against
Boupalos); at Massilia (Petr. _fr._ 1 Bü., where the ~pharmako/s~ is
either thrown down the cliff or _saxis occidebatur a populo_: Lact.
ad Stat., _Th._ 10, 793). Apollonios of Tyana was clearly following
ancient custom when he made the people of Ephesos stone an old
beggar, who was evidently nothing but the plague-daimon itself, for
the purification of the city: ~kathê/ras tou\s Ephesi/ous tê=s
no/sou~, Philostr., _VA._ 4, 10-11. Was the stoning a sort of
counter-enchantment? See Roscher, _Kynanthropie_, 38-9.] {322}
[88\9: Among the ingredients of a ~Heka/tês dei=pnon en tê=|
trio/dô|~ was an ~ôo\n ek katharsi/ou~: Luc., _DM._ 1, 1; or the
testicles of a sucking pig that had been used as a victim: D., 54,
39. The ~oxuthu/mia~, sacrifices to Hekate and the souls of the dead
(see above, chap. v, n. 176), are identical with the ~katha/rmata
kai\ apolu/mata~ which were thrown out at the crossroads in the
~Hekatai=a~: Did. ap. Harp. ~oxuthu/mia~; cf. _E.M._ 626, 44.
~katha/rsia~ is the name of the purificatory offerings:
~katha/rmata~ of the same when they are thrown away: Ammon., p. 79
Valck. The dead bodies of dogs which had been used as victims at the
"purification" were afterwards thrown ~tê=| Heka/tê| meta\ tô=n
a/llôn katharsi/ôn~, Plu., _QR._ 68, p. 280 C. Even the blood and
water of the purificatory sacrifice, the ~apo/nimma~, is also
dedicated to the dead: Ath. 409 E ff. The fact that the
~katha/rmata~ are made over to the invisibly present spirits at the
cross roads might be derived also from the necessity for throwing
them out ~ametastrepti/~ (see below, n. 104). Even the Argive custom
of throwing the ~katha/rmata~ into the Lernaean lake (Znb., iv, 86;
Dgn., vi, 7; Hsch. ~Le/rnê theatô=n~) shows that these kathartic
materials are intended as a sacrifice to the underground spirits
since the Lernaean lake was an entrance to the underworld (see
above, chap. viii, n. 28).]
[89\9: Annual ~teletê/~ to Hekate in Aegina reputed to have been
founded by Orpheus. Hekate and her ~katharmoi/~ were there regarded
as valuable against insanity (for she can remove what she herself
has sent): Ar., _Ves._ 122; Lob., _Agl._ 242. This initiation
festival lasted on into the fourth century A.D.--Paus. refers to
only one other temple of Hekate in Argos: 2, 22, 7.--Indications of
a rigorous worship of Hekate in Kos: _GDI._ 3624, iii, p. 345 fin.
Hekate was patron-goddess of the city of Stratonikeia: Tac., _A._
iii, 62. Str., 660, and in other cities of Karia (as is known from
inscr.). Possibly Hekate is there only a Greek title of a native
Karian deity. The ancient cult of the ~chtho/nioi~ at the Triopion
in Knidos was, however, Greek: Böckh on Sch. Pi., p. 314 f.; _CIG._
i, p. 45.]
[90\9: ~chthoni/a kai\ nerte/rôn pru/tanis~: Sophr. _fr._ 7 Kaib.
ap. Sch. Theoc. ii, 12.--She is actually queen in Hades, sharing the
throne of Plouton it seems: S., _Ant._ 1199. She is often called
~chthoni/a~. She is ~Admê/tou ko/rê~ (i.e. of Hades, K. O. Müller,
_Introd. Scient. Myth._ 245): Hsch. She is called ~admê/tê~ herself
in _H. Mag. Hec._, Abel, _Orph._, p. 289. She is the daughter of
Euboulos, i.e. Hades: _Orph. H._, 72, 3 (elsewhere of course she has
other origins). As ~chthoni/a~ she is often confused with Persephone
(and both, as they are all thus united in several particulars, with
Artemis). In the transcript of a metrical inscr. from Budrum
(Cilicia) in _JHS._ xi, 252. there appears a ~Gê= Heka/tê~. This
would certainly be very remarkable but on the stone itself the
actual words are ~_tê\n_ sebo/mesth' Hek[a/tên]~. [But cf. _Tab.
Defix._, p. xiii, a 13.]]
[91\9: Hekate goddess of childbirth: Sophr. _fr._ 7. worshipped in
Athens as ~kourotro/phos~, Sch. Ar., _V._ 804. Samian worship of the
~kourotro/phos en tê=| trio/dô|~ (i.e. as Hek.), [Hdt.] _V. Hom._
30; Hes., _Thg._ 450: ~thê=ke de/ min~ (Hek.) ~Kroni/dês
kourotro/phon~. (Even as early as this ~kour.~ is the epithet of
Hek. and not the name of an independ. feminine daimon which it may
have been to begin with, and in isolated cases remained.)
~Genetulli/s~ goddess of childbirth is said to be ~eoikui=a tê=|
Heka/tê|~: Hsch. ~Gen.~ The goddess Eileithyia to whom dogs were
sacrificed in Argos is certainly a Hekate (Sokr. ap. Plu., _Q. Rom._
52, p. 277 B--she was Artemis elsewhere). A consecration to Hekate
~hupe\r paido/s~: inscr. from Larisa, _Ath. Mitth._ xi, 450. Hek. is
also a goddess of marriage: as such (~ho/ti gamê/lios hê Heka/tê~,
Sch.) she is called upon with Hymenaios {323} by Kassandra in Eur.,
_Tr._ 323. Hekate is ~gamê/lios~ simply as ~chthoni/a~: the
~chtho/nioi~ frequently take part in marriage as well as birth: see
above, chap. v, p. 64 ff.; Gaia: see Welcker, _Götterl._ i, 327.
Offering made ~pro\ pai/dôn kai\ gamêli/ou te/lous~ to the Erinyes:
A., _Eum._ 835.]
[92\9: Hekate present at funerals (rushing ~pro\s a/ndras nekro\n
phe/rontas~, Sophr. _fr._ 7) ~erchome/na ana/ t' êri/a kai\ me/lan
hai=ma~ Theoc. ii, 13. ~chai/rousa skula/kôn hulakê=| kai\ hai/mati
phoi/nô| en ne/kusi stei/chousa kat' êri/a tethnêô/tôn~, _H. Hec._
ap. Hipp., _RH._ iv, 35, p. 102, 64 f. D.-S.--Hekate present at all
infamous deeds: see the remarkable formulae ap. Plu., _Superst._ 10,
p. 170 B (Bgk., _PLG_^4 iii, p. 680).--Hek. regarded as devouring
corpses (like Eurynomos, etc., above, chap. vii, n. 24):
~haimopo/tis, kardio/daite, sarkopha/ge, aôrobo/re~ are said of her
in the _Hymn. Magic_, 5, ll. 53-4 (p. 294 Ab.). ~phthisi/kêre~
should be also read, ib., l. 44 (~kê=res = psuchai/~, see above,
chap. v, n. 100); cf. ~ômopha/goi chtho/nioi~, _P. Mag. Par._ 1444.
~Heka/tê akrourobo/rê~ on a _defixio_ from Megara ap. _Tab. Defix._,
p. xiii_a_, l. 7 Wünsch. Probably ~aôrobo/rê~ should be read (Wünsch
differently, p. xx_b_).]
[93\9: See above, chap. v, nn. 66, 132.]
[94\9: Medea in E., _Med._ 385 ff.: ~ou ga\r ma\ tê\n de/spoinan
hê\n egô\~ (as magician) ~se/bô ma/lista pa/ntôn kai\ xunergo\n
heilo/mên, Heka/tên, muchoi=s nai/ousan hesti/as emê\s.--Dê/mêtros
ko/rê~ is addressed as ~_puro\s de/spoina_~, in company with
Hephaistos, in E., _Phaeth._, _fr._ 781, 59. Probably Hekate is
meant being here as frequently combined or confused with Persephone
the daughter of Demeter (cf. _Ion_, 1048).]
[95\9: The pious man cleans and decorates every month ~to\n Hermê=n
kai\ tê\n Heka/tên kai\ ta\ loipa\ tô=n hierô=n ha\ dê\ tou\s
progo/nous katalipei=n~, Theopomp. ap. Porph., _Abs._ ii, 16 (p.
146, 8-9 N.). Acc. to this Hekate and Hermes belong to the ~theoi\
patrô=|oi~ of the house.--Shrines of Hekate before the house-door
(Lob., _Agl._ 1336 f.); cf. the sacella of the Heroes in the same
place: above, chap. iv, n. 135.]
[95a\9: The late interpolation in Hes., _Th._ 411-52, in praise of
Hekate leaves out the uncanny side of her character altogether.
Hekate has here become so much the universally revered goddess that
she has lost all definite personality in the process. The whole is a
telling example of the sort of extension that might be given to a
single divinity who had once been the vital cult-object of a small
locality. The name of this universally known daimon becomes finally
of little importance (for everything is heaped upon one
personality). Hence there is little to be learnt of the special
characteristics of Hekate from this Hymn. (In any case it is time we
gave up calling this Hymn to Hekate "Orphic": the word is even more
than usually meaningless and conventional in this case.)]
[96\9: Hekate (~nai/ousa~ at the crossroads, S. _fr._ 492 N.) meets
men as an ~antai/a theo/s~ (S. _fr._ 311) and is herself called
~antai/a~ (_fr._ 311, 368; cf. _EM._ 111, 50, where what precedes is
from Sch. A.R. i, 1141). The same adj. applies to a ~dai/môn~ that
she causes to appear: Hsch. ~antai/a, antai=os~, in this as in most
cases with the added sense of hostile. Hek. ~phainome/nê en
ekto/pois pha/smasin~, Suid. ~Heka/tên~. (from Elias Cret. on Greg.
Nz. iv, p. 487 Mg.). She appears or sends apparitions by night as
well as by day: ~Einodi/a, thu/gater Da/matros, ha\ tô=n nuktipo/lôn
epho/dôn ana/sseis kai\ methameri/ôn~, E., _Ion_, 1048 ff. Meilinoe,
a euphemistically (cf. above, chap. v, n. 5) named daimonic
creature, either Hekate or Empousa, meets ~antai/ais epho/doisi
kata\ zophoeide/a nu/kta~, Orph. _H._ 71, 9. Hek. appears at midday
in Luc., _Philops._ 22. In this midday vision she opens the earth
and ~ta\ en Ha/idou ha/panta~ become visible (c. 24). This reminds
us of the story told by Herakl. {324} Pont. of Empedotimos to whom
Plouton and Persephone appeared ~en mesêmbri/a| stathera=|~ in a
lonely spot and the whole world of the spirits became visible (ap.
Procl. _in _Rp.__ ii, 119 Kroll). Lucian is probably parodying that
story. Elsewhere in the same pamphlet he gives an absurd turn to a
fabulous narrative of Plutarch's (_de An. fr._ 1 Bern. = _Philops._
25).]
[97\9: See Append. vi.]
[98\9: See Append. vii.]
[99\9: Hekate herself is regarded as having the head of a dog:
undoubtedly an ancient conception of her (she has ~skulakô/dea
phônê/n~, _H. Mag._ 5, 17 Ab.). She is sometimes even a dog herself:
Hsch. ~Heka/tês a/galma~, and partic. _AB._ 336, 31-337, 5; Call.
_fr._ 100 h, 4. She is identified with Kerberos: Lyd., _Mens._ 3, 8,
p. 42 W. She is actually invoked as a dog in _P. Mag. Par._ 1432
ff., p. 80 W.: ~kuri/a Heka/tê einodi/a, ku/ôn me/laina~. Hence dogs
are sacred to her and are sacrificed to her (earliest witness Sophr.
_fr._ 8 Kaib.). The hounds with whom she flies about at night are
daimonic creatures like Hekate herself. Porph. (who was specially
well informed about such things) said that ~saphô=s~ the hounds of
Hekate were ~ponêroi\ dai/mones~: ap. Eus., _PE._ 4, 23, 7-8. In
Lycophron's account (ll. 1174-80) _Hekabe_ is represented exactly in
this way, i.e. as a daimonic creature who appears to men as a hound
(cf. _PLG._ iii, 721 f.). She is transformed by Hekate (Brimo) into
one of her train (~hepôpi/da~) who by their nocturnal howling strike
terror into men who have neglected to make offering to the
goddess.--Dogs occur as symbols of the dead on
grave-reliefs?--above, chap. v, n. 105. (Erinyes as hounds; Keres as
"Hounds of Hades": A.R. iv, 1665; _AP._ vii, 439, 3 [Theodorid.],
etc. Ruhnken, _Ep. Cr._ i, 94.)]
[100\9: See Dilthey, _Rh. Mus._ 25, 332 ff.]
[101\9: The Italian Diana who had long become identical with Hekate
remained familiar to the Christianized peoples of the early Middle
Ages (allusions in Christian authors: Grimm, pp. 283, 286, 933, 949,
1161 f. O. Jahn, _Bös. Blick_, 108). She was, in fact, the meeting
point of the endless mass of superstition that had survived into
that time from Graeco-Roman tradition. The nocturnal riding of a mob
of women (i.e. "souls" of women) _cum Diana, paganorum dea_ is
quoted as a popular superstition by the so-called _Canon Episcopi_,
which in the controversies on witches was so often appealed to. This
document, it seems, cannot be traced back further than Regino (end
of ninth century). He seems to have got it out of [Aug.] _De Sp. et
Anima_ (probably written in the sixth century). It was rescued from
oblivion by Burkhard of Wurms, used in the Decretals of Gratian, and
became very well known in the Middle Ages. (The passage from
Burkhard is printed in Grimm, p. 1741. That the whole is a Canon
(24) of the Council of Ancyra, 314 A.D., is, however, only a
mistaken idea of Burkhard's.) This belief in the nightly hunt of
Diana with the souls may be regarded as a vestige of the ancient
idea of Hekate and her nocturnal crew. It was all the more likely to
survive in northern countries with their native legends of wild
Hunters and the "furious host" with which it could so easily
combine. ["Herne the Hunter," _Merry Wives of Windsor_, iv, 4; v,
5.]]
[102\9: ~hoko/sa dei/mata nukto\s pari/statai, kai\ pho/boi kai\
para/noiai kai\ anapêdê/seis ek tê=s kli/nês kai\ pho/bêtra kai\
pheu/xeis e/xô, Heka/tês phasi\n ei=nai epibola\s kai\ hêrô/ôn
epho/dous, katharmoi=si/ te chre/ontai kai\ epaoidai=s~, Hp., _Morb.
Sac._ vi, 362 L.; cf. Plu., _Supers._, 3, p. 166 A; Hor., _AP._ 454.
Hekate is ~maniô=n aiti/a~, Eust., _Il._, p. 87, 31 (hence also
releases men from madness in the initiations of Aegina, see above,
n. 89); cf. ~e/ntheos {325} ex Heka/tês~, E., _Hip._ 141. Dreams of
Hekate, Artemid., 2, 37, p. 139, 1 ff. H. The ~hê/rôes apoplê/ktous
poiei=n du/nantai~: Sch. Ar., _Av._ 1490. The ~hê/rôes~ are also the
source of nightmares, _Rh. Mus._ 37, 467 n. (like Pan as Ephialtes:
Didym. ap. Sch. Ar., _Ves._ 1038--where ~_Eua/pan_~ should be read,
from ~eu/a~ the noise of bleating goats and ~Pa=n~: Suid. and _CIG._
iv, 8382). The Lamiai and Empousai seem also to have been
night-terrors; cf. what is said of their amorous disposition and
desire for human blood by Apollonios ap. Philostr. _VA._ 4, 25, p.
145, 18; and what is said of Pan-Ephialtes, ~ea\n de\ sunousia/zê|~,
Artemid., p. 139, 21 H. General statement: ~oneirô/ssein~ comes
~apo\ _daimo/nôn_ energei/as~ Suid. ~oneiropolei=n~, p. 1124 Gaisf.
Seirenes: Crusius, _Philol._ 50, 97 ff.]
[103\9: The "Banquets of Hekate", besides the ~katha/rmata~ referred
to above (n. 88), included also the specially prepared dishes that
were made and put out for Hekate ~kata\ mê=na~ (Ar., _Plu._ 596) at
the ~triaka/des~ (see above, chap. v, n. 88) or else at the
~noumêni/ai~, Sch. Ar., _Plu._ 594: ~kata\ tê\n noumêni/an,
_hespe/ras_~; cf. the offering to Hekate and Hermes at each
~noumêni/a~: Theopomp. ap. Porph., _Abs._ 2, 16, p. 146, 7 N. These
banquets of Hek. are meant by Ar., _Plu._ 594 ff., S. _fr._ 668 N.;
Plu., _Smp._ 7, 3, p. 709 A.--It is possible that at the turn of the
month there was a "purification" of the house, in which case the
~katha/rsia~ and the ~Heka/tês dei=pna~ would be again
combined.--Ingredients of the offerings to Hek.: eggs and toasted
cheese (Sch. Ar.); ~tri/glê~ and ~maina/s~ Ath. 325 B.; flame-cakes
(of cheese, ~plakou=ntes dia\ turou=~, Paus. Lex. ap. Eust. 1165,
14) ~amphiphô=ntes~ (see Lob., _Agl._ 1062 f.).]
[104\9: The person ~katha/rmata ekpe/mpsas~ throws them away
~aostro/phoisin o/mmasin~: A., _Cho._ 98-9. The vessel filled with
the purificatory offerings was emptied ~en tai=s trio/dois~ and
~ametastrepti/~: Schol. ib. This was regular with ~katharmoi/~:
Theoc. xxiv, 94 ff., and at offerings to the Erinyes: S., _OC._ 490.
Even Odysseus is obliged at his sacrifice to the dead ~apono/sphi
trape/sthai~, ~k~ 528. Medea in collecting her magic juices turns
her eyes ~exopi/sô chero/s~: S. ~Rhiz.~ _fr._ 491 N.; A.R. iv, 1315;
cf. also Lomeier, _de lustrat._, p. 455 f. This remained the rule at
sacrifices to ~chtho/nioi~ and in magic ceremonies which regularly
had to do with the underworld. Even Marc. Emp. in giving directions
for the cure of ~phusika/~ often enjoins _nec retro respice_ e.g. 1,
54, likewise Plin., _NH._ 21, 176; 29, 91. In making an enchantment
~poreu/ou anepistreptei\ mêdeni\ dou\s apo/krisin~ _P. Mag. Lond._,
given in Kenyon _Greek Pap. in B.M._, i, p. 98. Modern superstition
agrees: cf. Grimm, p. 1789, n. 299; cf. nn. 357, 558, 890, 1137. The
eye must be turned away from the "furious host": Birlinger, _Aus
Schwaben_, _N.S._ i, 90. The precaution is, however, of primeval
antiquity. In the old Indian cult of the dead and worship of
formidable deities many of the proceedings must be performed
~ametastrepti/~, Oldenberg, 335 f., 487 f., 550, n. 5; 577 f., 580.
The reason for the precaution is not hard to see. If the person
looked round he would see the spirits engaged in taking possession
of the objects thrown to them, which would be sure to bring
ill-luck--~chalepoi\ de\ theoi\ phai/nesthai enargô=s~. Hence
Odysseus, when he is returning Leukothoë's wimple by throwing it
into the sea, must ~auto\s apono/sphi trape/sthai~, ~e~ 350. Hence
Orpheus must not look back at Eurydike while she belongs to the
lower world. (Cf. Hannibal's dream reported after Silenus and Cael.
Ant. by Cic., _Div._ i, 49.) ~hoi entugcha/nontes nukto\s hê/rôsi
die/strephon ta\s o/pseis~: Sch. Ar., _Av._ 1493. Very clearly put
by Ov., _F._ 5, 437; at the Lemuria the sacrificer throws away the
beans aversus . . . nec respicit. umbra putatur colligere et nullo
terga vidente sequi. At last when the Manes are {326} all driven
out, _respicit_ (444). One of the Pythagorean ~su/mbola~, those
invaluable fragments of Greek old wives' wisdom, runs: ~apodêmô=n
tê=s oiki/as mê\ epistre/phou; Erinu/es ga\r mete/rchontai~ (Iamb.,
_Protr._, p. 114, 29 f. Pist). Here the _reason_ for the
superstitious practice is clearly shown (cf. also Grimm, p. 1778, n.
14; cf. n. 360): the underworld spirits (wandering over the earth,
esp. on the fifth of the month, as in Hes., _Op._ 803) are following
the departing person: if he were to turn round he would see them.]
[105\9: Appearance of ~ei/dôla~ of the dead: not as in Homer in
dreams only, but openly before men's waking eyes. Stories of this go
back as far as the poems of the Epic Cycle; cf. appearance of
Achilles in the little Iliad (p. 37 Ki), in the ~No/stoi~ (p. 33).
How familiar this idea had become by the fifth century may be judged
from the frequency of ghosts in the tragedians: A., _Pers. Eum.
Prom._ ~Psuch.~; S., ~Polux.~; cf. _fr._ 795 N.; E., _Hec._; raising
of the spirit of a dead man, _fr._ 912; cf. also the stories of
Simonides and the grateful dead (Bgk. on Sim. _fr._ 129); of Pelops
and the ~ei/dôlon~ of Killos (see A. Marx, _Griech. Märchen von
dankbaren Thieren_, p. 114 f.).]
[106\9: Spirit-raising at entrances to the underworld at definite
~psuchomantei=a~ or ~nekuomantei=a~: see above, chap. v, n. 23.
There were, however, ~psuchagôgoi/~ who could compel individual
souls to appear at other places as well: E., _Alc._ 1128 f. Such
~psuchagôgoi/~ belonging to the fifth century and to be found in
Thessaly are spoken of by Plu. ap. Sch. E., _Alc._ 1128. People
~tou/s te tethneô=tas pha/skontes psuchagôgei=n kai\ theou\s
hupischnou/menoi pei/thein, hôs thusi/ais te kai\ euchai=s kai\
epô|dai=s goêteu/ontes~ occur in Pl., _Lg._ 909 B. Later literature
abounds in such spirit-raisings. Conjuring Hekate to appear was a
favourite magic experiment: A.R. iii, 1030 f., etc., recipe for
producing this illusion in Hipp., _RH._ iv, 35-6, p. 102 f. D.-S. A
~Heka/tês epagôgê/~ occurs as early as Thphr., _Ch._ 28 (16).]
[107\9: ~agu/rtai kai\ ma/nteis~ profess ~ea/n ti/s tin' echthro\n
pêmê=nai ethe/lê| meta\ smikrô=n dapanô=n homoi/ôs di/kaion adi/kô|
bla/psein, epagôgai=s tisi kai\ katade/smois tou\s theou/s, hô/s
phasi, pei/thonte/s sphisin hupêretei=n~, Pl., _Rp._ 364 C. And esp.
from _Lg._ 933 AE we get a good idea of the fear that the ~ma/nteis~
and ~teratosko/poi~ generally inspired with their ~katade/seis
epagôgai/, epô|dai/~, and other ~magganei=ai~ (we even hear of
wax-figures on house-doors, grave-stones, ~epi\ trio/dois~, as so
frequently later, with the same superstitious purpose. Plato himself
does not rule out the possibility of such magic incantations: at
least they did not conflict with his own daimonic theory: see _Smp._
203 A. ~epagôgai/~ are "evocations" of spirits or gods: see Ruhnk.,
_Tim._, p. 115. ~epipompai/~ have the same meaning: see above, chap.
v, n. 168. ~epipe/mpein~ frequently in this sense in the _Orph. H._
~_katade/seis_, _kata/desmoi_~ are the "bindings" whereby the
spirit-raiser magically compels the unseen to do his will.
Compulsion is regularly found to be necessary: the spirits do not
come willingly. The magician by his spells and ceremonies is their
master; he exerts over them that ~ana/gkê (ho epa/nagkos~ is
frequent in the magical books) or ~peithana/gkê~ of which Porph. ap.
Eus., _PE._ 5, 8, specially tells us (probably deriving it from
Pythagoras of Rhodos). ~pei/thein~ is Plato's weaker word: the most
extreme is ~biastikai\ apeilai/~ Iamb. _Myst._ 6, 5 [i.e. Porph.
_Ep. Aneb. fr._ 31 Parth.]; cf. ~to\ dei=na pra/xeis ka\n the/lê|s
ka\n mê\ the/lê|s~: refrain in a magic hymn, _P. Mag. Par._ 2252
ff.--Just as in these incantations the ~kata/desis~ affects the gods
themselves so in other cases the victim is the unfortunate person
whom the magician intends to harm: in this sense we have
~katade/seis, kata/desmoi~, _P. Par._ 336; Orph. _Lith._ 582, and
the {327} _devotiones_ or _defixiones_ written on metal tablets
which have been found in such numbers in graves; see Gothofred. ad
_Cod. Theod._ 9, 16, 3. These are now collected and edited by R.
Wünsch, _Defixionum tabellae in Attica repertae_ (_CIA._ App.),
1897, with those found outside Attica included in the _Praefatio_.
Here we find ~katadô= (katadi/dêmi to\n dei=na~ his tongue, limbs,
mind, etc. (nn. 68, 89, 95, etc.), i.e. a magical disabling,
paralysing, fettering of his faculties--and of all his efforts:
~atelê=, enanti/a pa/nta ge/noito~, nn. 64, 98. The carrying out of
this is entrusted to Hermes ~chtho/nios~ or to Hekate (~katadô=
auto\n pro\s to\n Hermê=n ktl.~) as the ~_ka/tochoi_ dai/mones~; cf.
nn. 81, 84, 85, 86, 101, 105, 106, 107. Sometimes the promoter of
the ~kata/desis~ says of himself ~katadô= kai\ kate/chô~ 109, etc.
The _defixio_ itself is called ~ho ka/tochos~, _Gk. Pap. in B.M._
(Ken.), No. 121, ll. 394, 429 = p. 97-8. ~katadei=n~ is therefore
here = ~kate/chesthai poiei=n~ (= disable him--not make him
"possessed") and implies the delivery of the victim into the power
of the infernal spirits.--The ~ma/nteis~ and ~kathartai/~ appear as
accomplished weather-magicians in Hp., _Morb. Sac._ vi, 358 L. They
are claimed to be able to draw down the moon (an old art of
Thessalian witches), make the sun go out, cause rain or drought at
will, etc. A ~ge/nos~ of ~anemokoi=tai~ at Korinth was able ~tou\
ane/mous koimi/zein~: Hsch. Suid. ~anemok.~: cf. Welcker, _Kl.S._
iii, 63. The claims made by these ~kathartai/~ for themselves were
made by later ages on behalf of Abaris, Epimenides, Pythagoras,
etc.; Porph., _VP._ 28-9 (Iamb. 135 f.); Empedokles promised them to
his own pupils; 464 ff. Mull., _fr._ 111 Diels; and cf. Welcker,
_Kl.S._ iii, 60 f.--These are all examples of magical arts from
early times: the overwhelming mass of evidence for such proceedings
in later ages cannot be mentioned here except as explaining ancient
accounts.]
[108\9: Abaris had been mentioned by Pindar (Harp. ~A/baris~); Hdt.
mentions him in iv, 36. There we hear of the arrow which he bore
along with him ~kata\ pa=san tê\n gê=n~ and of his complete
abstention from food (cf. Iamb., _VP._ 141). The arrow, a ~su/mbolon
tou= Apo/llônos~ (Lycurg. _fr._ 85, ap. Eudoc., p. 34, 10) is borne
by Abaris in his hand--the suggestion of Wesseling, recently
revived, that we should in Hdt.'s passage read ~hôs to\n oïsto\s
perie/phere~, has been shown to be linguistically impossible by
Struve, _Opusc. Crit._ ii, 269. The embellishment of the Abaris
story, whereby he (like Musaios) flew through the air on his arrow,
is later than Hdt. or than Lyk. (The arrow is presumably the same as
the one of which Herak. Pont. tells some strange things; ap.
[Eratosth.] _Catast._ 29.) The story sounds rather like Herakleides.
See Porph., _VP._ 29; Iamb., _VP._ 91, 136; Him., _O._ 25, 2, 4;
Nonn. _D._ 11, 132 f.; Proc. Gaz., _Ep._ 96. Abaris was regarded as
~e/ntheos~ (Eudoc.) as ~kathartê/s~ and ~chrêsmolo/gos~, as driving
away pestilences by magic arts (esp. in Sparta, where ~kôlutê/ria~ =
apotropaic sacrifices, were instituted and a temple of ~Ko/rê
sô/teira~ founded: Apollon., _Mir._ 4--prob. from Theopomp.: see
_Rh. Mus._ 26, 558--Iamb., _VP._ 92, 141; Paus. 3, 13, 2). He is
also said to have prophesied earthquakes, pestilence, etc.
(Apollon.), and to have given prescriptions against disease and
~epôdai/~ (Pl., _Chrm._ 158 CD); was a type of ~eukoli/as kai\
lito/têtos kai\ dikaiosu/nês~: Str. 301.--The figure of Abaris thus
left rather vague in ancient legend was elaborated from two sources:
(1) the Athenian cult-legends of the foundation of the _Proërosia_:
Harp. ~A/b.~, Suid. ~proêrosi/a~. Sch. Ar., _Eq._ 729; Lycurg.
~kata\ Menesai/chmou~; and (2) the Pythagorean legends. It is in
itself very probable that the story in Iamb., _VP._ 91-3, 147, of
the meeting between Abaris and Pythagoras goes back to the fabulous
"Abaris" of Herakleides {328} (the story in 215-17 of Abaris and
Pythagoras before Phalaris evidently comes from Apoll. Ty.). This
was suggested by Krische _de soc. Pythag._, p. 38, and has been more
definitely maintained by Diels, _Arch. f. Gesch. d. Philos._ iii,
468: it cannot, however, be demonstrated absolutely--there is not a
scrap of evidence to show that Herakleides did actually make Abaris
meet Pythagoras. (~Puthago/ras en tô=| pro\s A/barin lo/gô=|~,
Procl. in _Tim._ 141 D. may very possibly, but not _necessarily_, as
Diels thinks, refer to the _Abaris_ of Herakleides.)--In any case
the bringing together of Abaris and Pyth. is a late invention; it is
impossible to say whether it could have occurred or did occur as
early as the Aristotelian work ~peri\ tô=n Puthagorei/ôn~.--In any
case, the guiding conception in all this is that Abaris did not
belong to the primeval past but came to Greece in the daylight of
historical times. Pindar makes this happen ~kata\ Kroi=son to\n
Ludô=n basile/a~ (prob. about the time of the ~Sa/rdeôn ha/lôsis~,
Ol. 58, 3 = 546); "others" (acc. to Harp.) made it earlier, in Ol.
21 = 696. It is impossible to tell what the reasons were for either
of these particular dates. Abaris might still be regarded as a
contemporary of Pythagoras by those who, with Eusebios and
Nikostratos ap. Harp., put him in Ol. 53 (~kata\ tê\n [=]n[=]g
Olumpia/da~, for so the figure in Harp. should be read and not ~[=]g
Ol.~; the right reading is preserved from Harp. in Suid. ~A/b.~).
This view, however, is not, as Diels thinks, obtained by making
Abaris forty years older than Pyth. (The ~akmê/~ of Pyth. falls in
Ol. 62--see _Rh. Mus._ 26, 570--and that, too, is the date--not Ol.
63--given by "Eusebius _Chronica_", i.e. the Armenian, tr. and the
MSS. _PEMR_ of Jerome.) Perhaps Abaris was regarded as the
contemporary of Phalaris whose reign according to one of the
versions given by Eusebios began in Ol. 53, or 52, 3. Cf. _Rh. Mus._
36, 567.]
[109\9: _Ekstasis_ of Aristeas: ~tou/tou phasi\ tê\n psuchê\n,
ho/tan ebou/leto, exie/nai kai\ epanie/nai pa/lin~. Suid.
~Ariste/as~. His body lies as if dead ~hê de\ psuchê\ ekdu=sa tou=
sô/matos epla/zeto en tô=| aithe/ri ktl.~ Max. Tyr. 16, 2, p. 288 R.
(reperimus) Aristeae animum evolantem ex ore in Proconneso corvi
effigie, Plin., _NH._ vii, 174 (very similar stories from elsewhere,
Grimm, p. 1083 [and Baring-Gould, _Myths of M.A._]). So, too, the
~Arima/speia~ said that Aristeas reached the Issedones
~phoiba/lamptos geno/menos~ (Hdt. iv, 13); which at least means in
some strange way impossible for other men, i.e. in Apolline
**ecstasy (cf. above, n. 63, ~numpho/lêptos~, etc.; ~en eksta/sei
apophoibô/menos~, _P. Mag. Par._, p. 63 Wess.). So, too, Max. Tyr.
38, 3, p. 222 ff., makes Aristeas describe how his ~psuchê/,
katalipou=sa to\ sô=ma~ had reached the Hyperboreans, etc. These
accounts are not derived from Hdt. who on the contrary says that
Arist. _died_ in a fuller's mill at Prokonnesos and that his body
then disappeared and was seen by a man at Kyzikos. This would be
_translation_ of body and soul together _not_ ~e/kstasis~ of the
soul alone. In this case Hdt. is probably inaccurate. In such cases
of translation the point of the story, in fact its whole meaning,
lies in the fact that the translated person has not died but that he
has vanished without his soul being separated from his body, i.e.
without dying; for normally in death the soul alone vanishes. This
applies to all the cases of translation referred to in this book
(see e.g. the story of the Hero Euthymos: above, chap. iv, n. 116;
of Kleomedes, p. 129, above; and also to the legend of Romulus in
Plu., _Rom._ 27-8, in which Plu. rightly finds much resemblance with
the story of Aristeas as told by Hdt. It applies to the numerous
stories of translation which, evidently after Greek models, were
told of the Latin and Roman kings (see Preller, _Röm. Mythol._^2, p.
84 f., 704). It appears then that {329} Hdt, has combined two
versions of the legend: one acc. to which Aristeas "died" (not only
on this occasion but often), i.e. his soul separated itself from his
body and had a life of its own; another in which his body and soul
were "translated" together without his death. In either version
Aristeas might meet with the man in Kyzikos: if he were translated,
it would be his vanished body (cf. Romulus' meeting Julius
Proculus); but if his soul left his body behind as though lifeless
then it would be the soul as ~ei/dôlon~ of its body that appeared to
the man (as in the cases of Pythagoras and Apoll. Tyan. who were
seen at two different places at the same time). This last story seems
to be the real and primitive one; it is suggested by the
above-mentioned accounts of the ~e/kstasis~ of the soul of Aristeas
and it was so understood by the authority (apparently Thpomp.) whom
Apollon., _Mirab._ 2, is following.]
[110\9: Hdt. iv, 15, Thpomp. ap. Ath. 13, 605 C: the bronze laurel
was set up ~kata\ tê\n Ariste/a tou= Prokonnêsi/ou epidêmi/an ho/te
e/phêsen ex Huperbore/ôn paragegone/nai~. This is not said by Hdt.
but is compatible with his account. Acc. to Hdt. Aristeas told the
people of Metapontum that they alone of all the Italiots had been
visited by Apollo and that he, Aristeas, had been in the god's train
in the shape of a raven (sacred to Apollo). This last feature allows
us to conclude that Hdt., too, knew of the wanderings made by the
soul of Aristeas while his body remained at home as though dead. The
raven is clearly the soul of Aristeas: Plin., _NH._ vii, 174.--The
~epidêmi/a~ of Aristeas in Metapontum fell acc. to Hdt.'s own
calculation (~hôs sumballo/menos . . . heu/riskon~) 240 years (not
230) after the second ~aphanismo/s~ of Aristeas from Prokonnesos. As
Aristeas had in his poem spoken of the beginning of the Kimmerian
invasion (Hdt. iv, 13) his first ~aphanismo/s~ cannot have been
_before_ 681 (the first year of Ardys' reign, when the Kimmerian
invasion began acc. to Hdt. i, 15: Prokonnesos was, too, first
founded under Gyges: Str. 587). Taking this as a starting point (and
it is the earliest admissible terminus) and subtracting 240 + 7
years (Hdt. iv, 14 fin.) we should arrive at the year 434. This,
however, cannot possibly have been meant by Hdt. as the year of the
miraculous presence of Aristeas in Metapontum. We seem to have one
of Hdt.'s errors of calculation to which he is prone. We cannot
indeed make out when exactly he intended to date the various scenes
of the Aristeas story.--In any case, Hdt. never intended to make
Aristeas the teacher of Homer, as Bergk following others thinks. He
makes Homer's _flor._ about 856: see _Rh. Mus._ 36, 397; and puts
the Kimmerian invasion much later. Aristeas could only be regarded
as teacher of Homer (Str. 639; Tat. _Gr._ 41) by those who made
Homer a contemporary of the Kimmerian invasion, Thpomp. esp.: see
_Rh. Mus._ 36, 559.--We do not know what grounds those Chronologists
had who made Aristeas contemp. with Kroisos and Kyros and put his
_flor._ in Ol. 58, 3 (Suid.). The reason may possibly have been
"identification"--this is hardly likely--"or conjunction with
Abaris" (Gutschmid ap. Niese, _Hom. Schiffskat._, p. 49, n.).
Unfortunately nothing is known of such a conjunction with Abaris
(very problematical conjectures by Crusius in _Myth. Lex._ i, 2814
f.). Possibly those who favoured this view held that the
~Arima/speia~ had been foisted upon Aristeas; cf. D. H., _Thuc._ 23;
~p. hu/psous~, 10, 4. This work was certainly regarded as having
been composed at the time of the Kim. invasion. The historical
reality of Aristeas was never doubted in antiquity and in spite of
the many legends that gathered about his name there is no need for
us to do so. The stories of Aristeas' extremely prolonged lifetime
(from the {330} Kim. invasion to the evidently much later period in
which he really lived) appear to have been derived chiefly from
fictions in the ~Arima/speia~ which probably also gave reasons of a
mysterious kind for this marvellous extension of his existence. We
cannot tell whether Aristeas himself wrote the poem and provided his
own halo of marvel or whether someone else, coming later, made use
of this name so famous in legend. If there was any basis for the
account in Suid. ~Pei/sandros Pei/sônos~ fin. we might be justified
in attributing the composition of the ~Arima/speia~ to Aristeas
himself. In any case the poem was already in existence at the
beginning of the fifth century: it can hardly be doubted that
Aeschylus modelled upon it his picture of the griffins and Arimaspoi
in _Pr._ 803 ff.]
[111\9: Dexikreon in Samos, Plu., _Q. Gr._ 54.--Polyaratos of
Thasos, Phormion of Sparta: Cl. Al., _Str._ i, 21, p. 399 P.
Phormion is better known because of his marvellous experiences:
Paus. 3, 16, 2-3; Thpomp. ap. Suid. ~Phor.~: see Meineke, _Com._^2,
p. 1227 ff.--At the end of the above-mentioned enumeration of
~ma/nteis~ ap. Clem. Al., a certain ~Empedo/timos ho Surako/sios~ is
given. Varro ap. Serv. on _G._ i, 34, tells of the ecstatic vision
of this Empedotimos: after being a quadam potestate divina mortalis
aspectus detersus he saw in the sky _inter cetera_ three gates and
three ways (to the gods and the kingdom of the dead). Varro is
evidently quoting the account of some ancient authority not a work
of Empedot. himself; but in any case this vision is the source of
what Empedotimos had to say about the dwelling-place of the souls in
the Milky Way: Suid. ~Emped., Iouliano/s~: _Rh. Mus._ 32, 331, n. 1;
cf. Damasc. ap. Philop. _in Arist. Meteor._, p. 117, 10 Hayd. Suid.
~Emped.~ calls (probably a guess) the work in which Empedot. gave an
account of his visions ~peri\ phusikê=s akroa/seôs~. (Because E.
also brought back with him information about the future life, the
usual stories about the subterranean chamber, etc., are transferred
to him by Sch. ad Greg. Nz., _C._ vii, 286 = Eudocia, p. 682, 15.)
Apart from this no one gives us any information about the
personality of Emped. except Jul., _Ep._ 295 B., p. 379, 13 ff. H.,
who tells us how he was murdered but the gods avenged him upon his
murderers. This, however, rests upon a confusion (either Julian's or
his copyist's) with ~Hermo/timos~ whose murderers were punished in
the next world acc. to Plu., _Gen. Socr._ 22, p. 592 C. The
above-mentioned story of the souls and the Milky Way was also known
to Julian (see Suid. ~Ioul.~): his source being Herakleides Pont.
(who also probably supplied it to others, e.g. Noumenios ap. Procl.
_in _Rp.__ ii, p. 129 Kroll, Porph., Iamb. ap. Stob., _Ecl._ i, p.
378, 12 W., and even earlier, Cicero, _Somn._ 15-16). No older
source of this fancy is known: "Pythagoras" mentioned as its
authority by Julian, etc., only takes us back again to Herakleides.
All that we know up to the present about it suggests the suspicion
that the very existence and history of this remarkably little-known
"great Empedotimos" may have been a simple _invention_ of
Herakleides', who may have made use of him in one of his dialogues
to add interest and importance to some of his own fancies. But now
we come upon something more detailed about the story told by
Herakleides of the vision in which Emped. (~meta\ tou= sô/matos~, p.
122, 2) beheld ~pa=san tê\n peri\ tô=n psuchô=n alêthei/an~: Procl.
_in _Rp.__ ii, 119, 21 Kroll. From this passage it is quite clear
that Empedotimos is simply a figure in a dialogue by Herakleides,
and no more existed in reality than Er the son of Armenios or
Thespesios of Soli, or than their prototype Kleonymos of Athens ap.
Klearchos of Soli (_Rh. Mus._ 32, 335).] {331}
[112\9: Apollon., _Mirab._ 3 (prob. from Thpomp.); Plin., _NH._ vii,
174; Plu., _Gen. Soc._ 22, p. 592 C (~Hermo/dôros~--the same
copyist's error occurs in Procl. _in _Rp.__ ii, 113, 24 Kroll);
Luc., _Enc. Musc._ 7; Tert., _An._ 2; 44 (from Soranos; cf. Cael.
Aur., _Tard._ 1, 3, 5); Or., _Cels._ iii, 3; 32. The same Hermotimos
of Klazomenai is undoubtedly the person meant when a ~Hermo/timos~
is mentioned among the earlier incarnations of the soul of
Pythagoras, even when the country of the person in question is not
named (as in D.L. viii, 5 f.; Porph., _VP._ 45; Tert., _An._ 28) or
is incorrectly called a Milesian (e.g. in Hipp., _RH._ 1, 2, p. 12
D.-S.). A quite untenable theory about this Hermot. is given by
Göttling, _Opusc. Ac._ 211.--Acc. to Plin. the enemies who finally
burnt the body of Hermot. (with the connivance of his wife) were the
Cantharidae--probably the name of a ~ge/nos~ hostile to
Hermot.--There is a remarkably similar story in Indian tradition:
see _Rh. Mus._ 26, 559 n. But I no longer suspect any historical
connexion between this story and that of Hermot.; the same
preconceptions have led in India as in Greece to the invention of
the same tale. Similar conceptions in German beliefs: Grimm, 1803,
n. 650.]
[113\9: Hence the legend that Apollo after the murder of Python was
purified not at Tempe, as the story generally went, but in Krete at
Tarrha by Karmanor: Paus. 2, 7, 7; 2, 30, 3; 10, 6, 7 (the
hexameters of Phemonoë); 10, 16, 5. The ~katha/rsia~ for Zeus were
brought from Krete: Orph. _fr._ 183 Ab.; cf. the oracle ap. Oinom.
Eus., _PE._ 5, 31, 2: K. O. Müller, _Introd. Scient. Myth._
98.--Krete an ancient seat of _mantikê_: the Lokrian Onomakritos,
teacher of Thaletas, lived in Krete ~kata\ te/chnên mantikê/n~,
Arist., _Pol._ 1274_a_, 25.]
[114\9: See above (pp. 96 f). As one who had been initiated into the
orgiastic cult of Zeus in Krete (Str. 468), Epimenides is called
~ne/os Kou/rês~: Plu., _Sol._ 12; D.L. i, 115. He is called
~hiereu\s Dio\s kai\ Rhe/as~ in Sch. Clem. Al. iv, p. 103 Klotz.]
[115\9: Legend of the ~a/limon~ of E.: H. Smyrn. 18. D.L. i, 114.
Plu. _7 Sap._ 14. He was prepared for it by living on ~aspho/delos,
mala/chê~ and the edible root of a kind of ~ski/lla~ (Thphr., _HP._
7, 12, 1). All these are sacred to the ~chtho/nioi~ (on
~aspho/delos~, see partic. _AB._ 457, 5 ff., which goes back to
Aristarchos; and Hsch. s.v.), and were only eaten occasionally by
the poor: Hes., _Op._ 41.]
[116\9: ~hou= (Epimeni/dou) lo/gos hôs exi/oi hê psuchê\ ho/poson
ê/thele chro/non kai\ pa/lin eisê/|ei en tô=| sô/mati~, Suid.
~Epimen.~ This is possibly the meaning of ~prospoiêthê=nai (le/getai)
polla/kis anabebiôke/nai~, D.L. i, 114. Epimenides like others
~meta\ tha/naton en toi=s zô=si geno/menos~, Procl. _in _Rp.__ ii,
113, 24 Kr. The story of his prolonged sleep in the cave is an
example of a widespread fairy-tale motif; see _Rh. Mus._ 33, 209, n.
2; 35, 160. In the case of Epimenides it has been exaggerated beyond
all bounds and attached to him as a sort of popular mode of
expressing his long ~eksta/seis~. This cave-sleep is interpreted as
a state of _ekstasis_ by Max. Tyr. 16, 1: ~en tou= Dio\s tou=
Diktai/ou~ (see above, chap. iii, n. 23) ~tô=| a/ntrô| kei/menos
hu/pnô| bathei= e/tê suchna/~ (cf. the ~psuchê/~ of Hermot. which
~apo\ tou= sô/matos plazome/nê apodêmei= epi\ polla\ e/tê~,
Apollon., _Mir._ 3) ~o/nar e/phê entuchei=n auto\s theoi=s ktl.~
Thus his ~o/neiros~ became ~dida/skalos~ to him, Max. Tyr. 38, 3;
cf. Sch. Luc., _Tim._ 6, 110 Rb.]
[117\9: ~sopho\s peri\ ta\ thei=a (deino\s ta\ thei=a~, Max. Tyr.
38, 3) ~tê\n _enthousiastikê\n_ sophi/an~, Plu., _Sol._ 12. Epimen.
is put among the ~e/ntheoi ma/nteis~, Bakis and the Sibyl, by Cic.,
_Div._ 1, 34.--Prolonged solitude is a preparation for the business
of the ecstatic seer (cf. Plu.'s story of a sort of counterpart to
Epimenides, _Def. Or._ 21, p. 421 B). There {332} is still another
fragment remaining from the story of Epim. on this head in the
account given by Theopompos (though he makes too rationalistic a use
of it): Epim. did not sleep all that time ~alla\ chro/non tina\
_ekpatê=sai_, ascholou/menon peri\ rhizotomi/an~ (which he needed as
an ~iatro/mantis~); D.L. i, 112. We cannot help being reminded of
the way in which the Angekok of Greenland, after prolonged and
profound solitude, severe fasting and concentration of thought,
makes himself into a magician (Cranz, _Hist. of Greenland_, p. 194).
In the same way the North American Indian stays for weeks in a
solitary wood and consciously prepares himself for his visions. At
last the real world falls away from him, the imagined world of his
visions becomes the real one and seems almost palpable; till finally
in complete ecstasy he rushes out of his hiding place. Nor would it
be hard to find analogies in the religion of civilized peoples.]
[118\9: Epim. is credited with prophecies of coming events: Pl.,
_Lg._ 642 D; D.L. i, 114, and also Cic., _Div._ i, 34. On the other
hand, Arist., _Rh._ 3, 17, 10, has ~peri\ tô=n esome/nôn ouk
emanteu/eto, alla\ peri\ tô=n gegono/tôn me\n adê/lôn de/~ which at
least means discovering the grounds of an event--grounds known only
to the god and the seer; e.g. the interpretation of a pestilence as
the vengeance of the daimones for an ancient crime, etc. If only
rational explanation were meant there would be no need for a
~ma/ntis~.]
[119\9: Delos: Plu., _Sept. Sap._ 14, p. 158 A. (There is no need to
suppose that there has been any confusion between this ~me/gas
katharmo/s~ by Epimenides and any other purification of Delos that
happens to be better known to us--the Pisistratean or that of the
year 426.) Epimenides ~po/leis eka/thêren a/llas te kai\ tê\n
Athênai/ôn~, Paus. 1, 14, 4.]
[120\9: The purification of Athens from the Kylonian ~a/gos~ by
Epimenides is now further confirmed by the Aristotelian ~Ath. pol.~
1 fin. This admittedly is not a very strong guarantee of its
historical truth; but no strong guarantee is required to dispose of
the doubts recently raised as to the historical truth of the story
that Athens was purified by Epimenides, and even of Epimenides' very
existence. There is no reason at all for such a doubt. The fact that
the historical figure of Epimenides has been almost entirely
obscured behind the veil of fable and romance gives us of course no
right to doubt his existence (or what would be the fate of
Pythagoras, Pherekydes of Syros, and of many others?); and further,
because some parts of the story of Epim. and his life are fabulous,
to doubt the truth of his entirely non-fabulous purification of the
Athenians from murder is a monstrous inversion of true historical
method.--No exact dating for the purification of Athens is to be
derived from the Aristotelian account of the event, as the English
ed. (Kenyon) of the ~Ath. pol.~ rightly observes. It certainly does
not follow (as e.g. Bauer takes for granted in his _Forsch. zu
Arist._ ~Ath. pol.~ 41) that the purification took place _before_
the archonship of Drakon (Ol. 39). Furthermore, it is probable that
in Plu., _Sol._ 12, everything that comes before ~tou\s ho/rous~ (p.
165, 19, Sint. ed. min.) is taken from Aristotle (though perhaps not
directly). In this case Aristotle, too, would be shown to have
attributed to Solon the first suggestion that led to the
condemnation of the ~enagei=s~. In Plu., however, Solon is still far
from having thoughts of his ~nomothesi/a~, he is still only ~ê/dê
do/xan e/chôn~ c. 12 (not till c. 14 does his archonship begin).
Solon's archonship is put by ~Ath. pol.~ in the year 591/0 (c. 14,
1, where we should be careful to avoid arbitrary alteration of the
figures); Suid. ~So/lôn~, Eus., _Chron._ also date it in Ol. 47, and
the same period is implied by Plu., _Sol._ 14, p. 168, 12. (~Ath.
Pol.~ {333} 13, 2, also brings the first archonship of Damasias to
582/1 = Ol. 49, 3: a date to which all other reliable tradition also
points). The condemnation of the ~enagei=s~ and the purification of
Athens by Epimenides thus took place some considerable time before
591. It is possible that Suid. gives the right date. s.v.
~Epimeni/dês; eka/thêre ta\s Athê/nas tou= Kulônei/ou a/gous kata\
tê\n [=]m[=]d Olumpia/da~ (604/1)--that in the Kirrhaian war there
was an ~Alkmai/ôn~ general of the Athenians offers no objection:
Plu., _Sol._ 11. Suidas' statement has not (as I once thought
myself, with Bernhardy) been taken from D.L., nor is it to be
corrected acc. to his text. D.L. i, 100, only brings forward the
connexion between the purification and the ~Kulô/neion a/gos~ as the
opinion of "some" (which in spite of the vagueness of expression
must mean Neanthes ap. Ath. 602 C), while the real reason is said to
be a ~loimo/s~, and the purification (as in Eus. _Chr._) is placed
in Ol. 46; i.e. probably 46, 3, the traditional date of Solon's
legislation.--Plato, _Lg._ 642 DE, does not conflict with the story
of the expiation of the ~Kul. a/gos~ by Epimenides: his story that
Epimen. was present in Athens in the year 500 and retarded the
threatened Persian invasion for ten years is not intended to contest
the truth of the tradition of the much earlier purification of
Athens by Epimen. ("retarded": so Clem. Al., _Str._ vi, 13, p. 755
P., understood Plato and prob. rightly; we often hear in legendary
stories of the gods or their prophets retarding coming events which
have been determined by fate; cf. Pl., _Smp._ 201 D; Hdt. i, 91;
Ath. 602 B; Eus., _PE._ 5, 35, p. 233 BC; Vg., _A._ vii, 313 ff.;
viii, 398 f.; and what Serv. ad loc. reports from the _libri
Acheruntici_). How the same man could be living both at the end of
the seventh and of the sixth centuries would have troubled Plato not
at all--tradition attributed a miraculously long life to Ep. At any
rate, it is quite impossible to base the chronology of Ep.'s life on
the story in Plato. (It may have been suggested by a forged oracle
made ex eventu after 490 and fathered on Epim., as Schultess
suggests, _De Epim. Crete_, p. 47, 1877.)]
[121\9: Details of the expiation ceremonies: D.L. i, 111-12;
Neanthes ap. Ath. 602 C. It is not the human sacrifice but the
sentimental interpretation of Neanth. that Polemon (Ath. 602 F.)
declares to be fictitious. They are invariably sacrifices to the
~chtho/nia~ that Epim. institutes. Thus (as Abaris founded a temple
at Sparta for ~Ko/rê sô/teira~) he founded at Athens, evidently as
the concluding part of the purification, ~ta\ hiera\ tô=n semnô=n
theô=n~, i.e. of the Erinyes: D.L. i, 112.]
[122\9: Such a connexion must at least be intended when Aristeas is
brought to Metapontum and Phormion to Kroton, both important centres
of the Pythagorean society. Aristeas, too, as well as Abaris,
Epimenides, etc., is one of the favourite figures of the
Pythagoreans: see Iamb., _VP._ 138.]
[123\9: It would certainly be necessary to deny to Epimenides the
"Theogony" that the whole of antiquity read and quoted under the
name of Epimenides without once expressing a doubt, if the figments
of that Theogony really contained borrowings from the teaching of
Anaximenes or, even worse, from the rhapsodical Theogony of Orpheus,
as Kern, _de Orphei Ep. Pher. Theog._ 66 ff. maintains. But in the
first place a few vague resemblances are not enough to show any
connexion between Epimenides and those others. In the second,
supposing the connexion proved, Epimenides need not necessarily have
been the borrower. In any case, such alleged borrowings do not
oblige us to advance the period when Ep. lived from the end of {334}
the seventh to the end of the sixth century. If they really exist
then we should rather have to conclude that the Theogony is itself a
forgery of a much later date.]
[124\9: The possibility of theoretical activity in the case of these
men is often implied in the statements of later writers; e.g. when
the name is given to Epimenides (D.S. 5, 80, 4) or Abaris (Apollon.,
_Mir._ 4); or when Aristeas is called an ~anê\r philo/sophos~ (Max.
Tyr. 38, 3, p. 222 R.).]
[125\9: Arist., _Meta._ 1, 3, p. 948_b_, 19 f.]
[126\9: See Append. viii.]
[127\9: See above, chap. i, n. 41. Archiloch. _fr._ 12: ~kei/nou
kephalê\n kai\ chari/enta me/lê Hê/phaistos _katharoi=sin_ en
hei/masin ampheponê/thê~. E., _Or._ 40 f.: the slain Klytaimnestra
~puri\ _kathê/gnistai_ de/mas~ and Sch. ~pa/nta ga\r kathairei= to\
pu=r, kai\ hagna\ dokei= ei=nai ta\ kaio/mena, ta\ de\ a/tapha
memiasme/na~. E., _Sup._ 1211: ~. . . hi/n' autô=n~ (those who are
being buried) ~sô/math' hêgni/sthê puri/~; cf. ~ha/gnison pursô=|
me/lathron~, _IT._ 1216. On a grave inscr. from Attica (_Epigr. Gr._
104): ~entha/de Dia/logos katharô=| puri\ gui=a kathê/ras . . .
ô/|chet' es atha/natous~--evidently modelled on ancient ideas; cf.
also ib. 109, 5 (_CIA._ iii, 1325). Those, too, who are struck by
lightning (see Appendix i) are purified from all earthly taint by the
holiest sort of ~pu=r katha/rsion~ (E., _IA._ 1112; ~katharsi/ô|
phlogi/~, E., _Hel._ 869) and go straight ~pro\s athana/tous~.
Iamb., _Myst._ v, 12, also explains how fire ~ta\ prosago/mena
kathai/rei kai\ apolu/ei tô=n en tê=| hu/lê| desmô=n, aphomoioi=
toi=s theoi=s~, etc.]
[128\9: Cf. also Pl., _Lg._ 677 DE; Plu., _Fac. Orb. Lun._ 25, p.
940 C.]
{{335}}
CHAPTER X
THE ORPHICS
The earliest authority who mentions Orphic sects and their practices
is Herodotos (ii, 81), who calls attention to the correspondence
between certain sacerdotal and ascetic ordinances of the Egyptian
priesthood, and the "Orphic and Bacchic" mysteries. The latter, he
says, are really Egyptian and Pythagorean, or in other words they
were founded by Pythagoras or Pythagoreans upon Egyptian models; and
thus, in the opinion of the historian, they cannot have come into
existence before the last decade of the sixth century. Herodotos
then, either in Athens or elsewhere, had heard during his journeys
of certain private societies who by calling themselves after the
name of Orpheus, the prototype of Thracian song so well known to
legend, recognized the origin of their peculiar cult and creed in
the mountains of Thrace, and did honour to Bakchos the Thracian god.
The fact that the Greek Orphics did indeed worship Dionysos, the
lord of life and death, before all other gods, is clearly shown by
the remains of the theological poems that originated in their midst.
Orpheus himself, as founder of the Orphic sect, is actually said to
have been the founder also of the Dionysiac
initiation-mysteries.[1\10]
This gathering-together in the name of Orpheus for the purpose of
offering a special worship to Dionysos was, then, the work of
_sects_ who, in private association, practised a cult which the
public and official worship of the state either did not know of or
disdained. There were many such associations, and of very varied
character, which kept themselves aloof from the organized religion
of the community, and were tolerated by the state.[2\10] As a rule,
they were "foreign gods"[3\10] who were thus worshipped; and
generally by foreigners who thus kept up the special worship of
their own homes, though they did not always exclude natives of their
adopted country. Now, Dionysos, the god of the Orphic sects, had for
a long time ceased to be a foreigner in Greek countries; since his
arrival from Thrace he had been refined and matured under the
humanizing sun of Greece, until he had become a Greek god, and a
worthy associate of the Greek Olympos. It is possible, however, that
in this process, the old Thracian god may have seemed to his
original worshippers to have lost his real {336} character, and they
may on that account have joined together to offer, in separation
from the official worship, a special cult in which all the old ideas
of the national religion should be preserved unaltered. A secondary
wave of influence thus broke upon the long-since-Hellenized god, the
Thracian Dionysos in Greece, and _this_ wave the official worship
either had not the power or lacked the will to assimilate. It was
therefore left to special sects who honoured the god after their own
private laws. Whether indeed they were _Thracians_ who, as in the
similar case of the unmodified worship of Bendis,[4\10] or Kotytto,
thus reinstituted their ancient and national worship of Dionysos in
Greek countries, we cannot with certainty tell; but this special
cult would certainly not have achieved the importance it did in
_Greek_ life if it had not been joined by Greek adherents brought up
in the native conceptions of Greek piety, who under the name of
"Orphics" once more adapted the Thracian god to Greek modes of
thought--though this new adaptation differed from the previous
assimilation of the god by the official worship of the state. We
have no reason for believing that Orphic sects were formed in Greek
states before the second half of the sixth century,[5\10] that
critical age of transition when in so many places primitive and
mythological modes of thought were developing into a _theosophy_,
which in its turn was making an effort to become a philosophy. The
Orphic religious poetry is itself clearly marked by this effort--for
in Orphism it never became more than an effort and never succeeded
in reaching its goal.
The exact point of origin of this combined movement of religion and
theosophy, the various steps and manner of its development remain
hidden from us. Athens was a centre of Orphism; it does not
therefore follow that Orphism had its origin there, any more than
had the multifarious tendencies and activities in art, poetry, and
science that at about the same period flowed together, and as though
driven by an unseen intellectual current, found their meeting place
at Athens. Onomakritos, we are told, the giver of oracles in the
court of Peisistratos "founded the secret worship of
Dionysos".[6\10] This appears to refer to the first founding of an
Orphic sect at Athens; and we meet with the name of Onomakritos
among the authors of Orphic poems. But the real authorship of these
poems is far more often ascribed to certain men of Southern Italy
and Sicily, who can be more or less clearly connected[7\10] with the
Pythagorean societies which were flourishing in those districts
about the last decades of the sixth and the first of the fifth
centuries. {337}
It seems certain that in Southern Italy at that time, Orphic
societies were already in existence--for whom else can these writers
have intended their "Orphic" poems? In any case we must take it as
certain that the correspondence of Orphic and Pythagorean doctrine
on the subject of the soul is not purely accidental. Did Pythagoras
when he came to Italy (about 532) find Orphic societies already
settled in Kroton and Metapontum, and did he associate himself with
their ideas? Or did the "Orphic" sectaries (as Herodotos
imagined[8\10]) owe their inspiration to Pythagoras and his
disciples? The various cross-currents of reciprocal influence can no
longer be disentangled by us, but if the Pythagoreans were the sole
creditors in the bargain we should undoubtedly find the whole body
of Orphic doctrine thoroughly permeated with conceptions that belong
exclusively to the Pythagorean school. In the wreckage of the Orphic
poems, however, except for a few negligible traces of the
Pythagorean mystic theory of numbers,[9\10] we find nothing that
must necessarily have been derived by the Orphics from Pythagorean
sources.[10\10] Least of all did they need to derive the doctrine of
the migration of souls and its application from this source. It is
possible, therefore, that it was the independently developed Orphic
doctrine which exerted an influence upon Pythogoras and his
adherents in Southern Italy; just as it was a ready-made Orphic
teaching (and that, too, perhaps, brought from Southern Italy) with
which Onomakritos, the founder of the Orphic sects at Athens,
associated himself--about the same time as Pythagoras' similar
action in Kroton. It is hardly possible to interpret in any other
way the various relations of the Orphics with each other when we
learn that at the court of the Peisistratids, in addition to
Onomakritos, two other men who had arrived from Southern Italy were
active and were counted among the earliest writers of Orphic
poems.[11\10]
§ 2
The Orphics wherever we meet with them in Greek countries always
appear as members of a private cult-society who are held together by
a specially organized and individual mode of worship. The old
Thracian worship of Dionysos in its straining after the infinite
conducted its revels under the open sky of night, seeking out
deserted mountain-sides and forests where it was farthest from
civilization and closest to unspoiled and untrammelled nature. How
this cult may have accommodated itself to the narrow limitations of
ordinary {338} city-life, it is hard to imagine;[12\10] though it is
natural to suppose that much of the extravagance that was literal
and actual enough in the old northern festival of night was
represented in the milder worship of Greece by mere symbol. We have
less difficulty in discovering the side of their religious activity
which the Orphics, apart from the private worship of the
conventicle, revealed to the outer world of the profane. Orpheus
himself in the tradition had been not merely the inspired singer but
the seer, the magically endowed physician and purification-priest as
well,[13\10] and the Orphics, as his followers, were active, too, in
all these directions.[14\10] In the composition of Greek Orphism the
kathartic ideas which had been evolved on Greek soil were combined
in a not unnatural alliance with the old Thracian worship of
Dionysos. The Orphic priests of purification were preferred to
others of their kind by many religious people.[15\10] But among the
inner circles of Orphism the sacerdotal activities of purification
and the removal of daimonic hindrances, which were by no means given
up, tended rather to produce deeper and broader ideas of purity and
of release from the earthly and the transitory. In some such way was
evolved that asceticism which in close combination with the Thracian
worship of Dionysos gave the peculiar tone to the faith and
temperament of the sectaries and gave to their lives their special
direction.
The Orphic sect had a fixed and definite set of doctrines; this
alone sufficed to distinguish it both from the official worships of
the state, and from all other cult-associations of the time. The
reduction of belief to distinct doctrinal formulæ may have done more
than anything else to make Orphism a _society_ of believers--none of
the other _theologi_ of the time, Epimenides, Pherekydes, etc.,
accomplished as much. Without its fundamental religious doctrine
Orphism in Greece is inconceivable; according to Aristotle the
"doctrines" of Orpheus were put into poetical form by the founder of
the Orphic sect in Athens, Onomakritos.[16\10] The uncertain
accounts given us by the later authorities do not allow us to make
out quite clearly[17\10] what was the extent of Onomakritos' work in
the formation or collection of Orphic doctrinal poetry. What is
important is the fact that he is distinctly named as the author of
the poem called "Initiations".[18\10] This poem must have been one
of the basic, and in the strictest sense "religious", writings of
the sect; a poem of this character may very well have had for its
central incident the dismemberment of the god at the hands of the
Titans--a story which Onomakritos is said to have put into
verse.[19\10] {339}
The religious beliefs and worship of the sect were founded upon the
detailed instructions of certain very numerous writings dealing with
matters of ritual and theology. These claimed the authority of
religious inspiration,[20\10] and were as a whole supposed to be the
work of the primitive Thracian bard, Orpheus, himself. The anonymity
which concealed the identity of the real authors of these poems was
not, however, very thoroughly preserved; even towards the end of the
fourth century there were those who claimed to be able to give with
certainty the names of the original authors of the various poems.
Strictly canonical authority, such as would at once have reduced to
silence every conflicting view or statement, never seems to have
belonged to any of these writings. In particular, there were several
"Theogonies"[21\10]--poems which attempted to give expression to the
fundamental ideas of Orphic speculation on religious subjects--and
in spite of much harmony in general effect they differed
considerably from each other in particular mode of expression. They
represented ever-renewed and increasingly elaborate attempts to
construct a connected doctrinal system for Orphism. With
unmistakable allusion to the oldest Greek theological system--that
which had been committed to writing in the Hesiodic poem--these
Orphic Theogonies described the origin and development of the world
from obscure primordial impulses to the clear and distinct
variety-in-unity of the organized kosmos, and it described it as the
history of a long series of divine powers and figures which issue
from each other (each new one overcoming the last) and succeed each
other in the task of building and organizing the world until they
have absorbed the whole universe into themselves in order to bring
it forth anew, animated with one spirit and, with all its infinite
variety, a unity. These gods are certainly no longer deities of the
familiar Greek type. Not merely the new gods evolved by the creative
fancy of Orphism--creatures which had almost entirely lost all
distinct and sensible outline under the accumulation of symbolical
meaning--but even the figures actually borrowed from the Greek world
of divinities are turned into little more than mere personified
abstractions. Who would recognize the Zeus of Homer in the Orphic
Zeus who after he has devoured the World-God and "taken unto himself
the power of Erikapaios",[22\10] has become himself the Universe and
the Whole? "Zeus the Beginning, Zeus the Middle, in Zeus all things
are completed."[23\10] The concept here so stretches the personality
that it threatens to break it down altogether; the outlines of the
individual figures are {340} lost and are merged into an intentional
"confusion of deities".[24\10]
Still, the mythical envelope was never quite given up; these poets
could not do without it altogether. Their gods did indeed strive to
become pure abstractions but they were never quite successful in
throwing off all traces of individuality and the limitations of form
and matter: the concept never quite broke through the veil of
mythology. The poets of the Orphic Theogonies vied with one another
in their attempts to make the half-seen and half-conceived
accessible alike to the imagination and the reason; and in
succession gave varying expression to the same fundamental
conceptions until finality was reached as it seems in a poem whose
contents are better known to us than the others from quotations made
from it by Neoplatonic writers--the Theogonical poem of the
four-and-twenty Rhapsodies. Into this poem was poured all the
traditional material of mythological and symbolical doctrine, and in
it such doctrine achieved its final expression.[25\10]
§ 3
This combination of religion and quasi-philosophical speculation was
a distinguishing feature of the Orphics and of Orphic literature.
Religion only entered into their Theogonical poetry in so far as the
ethical personalities of the divinities therein described had not
entirely faded away into transparent allegories.[26\10] It was
abstract speculation alone which really prevailed there, little
respect being paid to religion; and as a result a much greater
licence was given to speculative construction.
This abstract speculation, however, reached its climax in a
religious narrative of the first importance for the beliefs and cult
of the sect. At the end of the series of genealogically connected
deities came the son of Zeus and Persephone, Dionysos, who was also
given the name of the underworld deity Zagreus.[27\10] To him, even
in infancy, was entrusted the rule of the world by Zeus. But the
wicked Titans, urged on by Hera, approached him by a stratagem. They
were the enemies of Zeus, and had already been overthrown by
Ouranos,[28\10] but had, it seems, been let loose again by Zeus from
Tartaros. They made Dionysos trust them by giving him presents, and
while he was looking at his own image in a mirror[29\10] that they
had given him, they fell upon him. He tried to escape them by
repeated transformations of shape; finally, in the form of a
bull,[30\10] he was at last overcome and his body torn to pieces
which his savage foes thereupon devoured. The heart alone {341} was
rescued by Athene, and she brought it to Zeus who swallowed it. From
Zeus there sprang the "new Dionysos", the son of Zeus and Semele, in
whom Zagreus came to life again.
The myth of the dismemberment of Zagreus by the Titans was already
put into verse by Onomakritos;[31\10] it continued to be the
culminating point of the doctrinal poetry of the Orphics. It
occurred not only in the Rhapsodies,[32\10] but in other versions of
the Orphic legend composed in complete independence of these.[33\10]
It is a religious myth in the stricter sense; its _ætioloqical_
character is most marked;[34\10] its purpose is to explain the
religious implication of the ritual dismemberment of the bull-god at
the Bacchic nocturnal festivals, and to derive that feature from the
legendary sufferings of Dionysos-Zagreus.
But though the legend thus has its roots in the primitive
sacrificial ritual of ancient Thrace,[35\10] in its extended form it
belongs entirely to the region of Hellenic thought; and in this
combination of the two elements it becomes truly Orphic. The wicked
Titans belong entirely to strictly Greek mythology.[36\10] In this
case, as the murderers of the god, they represent the primeval power
of evil.[37\10] They dismember the One into Many parts; by their
impiety the One divine being is dispersed into the multiplicity of
the things of this world.[38\10] It is reborn as One in the new
Dionysos sprung from Zeus. The Titans--so the legend goes on to
relate--who had devoured the limbs of the god were destroyed by Zeus
with his lightning flash. From their ashes sprang the race of men in
whom, in conformity with their origin, the good derived from
Dionysos-Zagreus is mixed with a wicked Titanic element.[39\10]
With the rule of the new-born Dionysos and the origin of mankind,
the series of mythological events in the Orphic poetry came to an
end.[40\10] With the entry of mankind into Creation[41\10] the
existing period of the world begins; the period of world-revolutions
is over. The poems now turn to the subject of man and the revelation
of his fate, his duty and his purpose in the world.
§ 4
The mixture of the elements that make up the totality of his being
in itself prescribes for man the direction that his effort shall
take. He must free himself from the Titanic element and, thus
purified, return to the god, a fragment of whom is living in
him.[42\10] The distinction between the Titanic and Dionysiac
elements in man is an allegorical expression of the popular {342}
distinction between body and soul; it also corresponds to a
profoundly felt estimate of the relative value of these two sides of
man's being. According to Orphic doctrine man's duty is to free
himself from the chains of the body in which the soul lies fast
bound like the prisoner in his cell.[43\10] The soul has a long way,
however, to go before it can find its freedom; it may not by an act
of violence tear its bonds asunder for itself.[44\10] The death of
the body only frees it for a short while; for the soul must once
more suffer imprisonment in a body. After leaving its old body, it
flutters free in the wind, but a breath of air sends it into a new
body again.[45\10] So it continues its journey, perpetually
alternating between an unfettered separate existence, and an
ever-renewed incarnation--traversing the great "Circle of Necessity"
in which it becomes the life-companion of many bodies both of men
and beasts. Thus, the "Wheel of Birth"[46\10] seems to return ever
upon itself in hopeless repetition: in Orphic poetry (and there
perhaps for the first time occurs the despairing thought of the
exact repetition of the past; events which have already been lived
through once returning again with the convergence of the same
attendant circumstances.[47\10] Thus, Nature, ever reverting to its
own beginnings, draws men with it in its senseless revolution round
itself.
But the soul has a way open for escape from this perpetual
recurrence of all things that threatens to close in upon it; it may
hope "to escape from the circle and have a respite from
misery".[48\10] It is formed for blessed freedom, and can at last
detach itself from the condition of being it has to endure upon
earth--a condition unworthy of it. A "release" is possible; but man
in his blindness and thoughtlessness cannot help himself, cannot
even, when salvation is at hand, turn himself towards it.[49\10]
Salvation comes from Orpheus and his Bacchic mysteries; Dionysos
himself will loose his worshipper from Evil and the unending way of
misery. Not his own power, but the grace of the "releasing gods" is
to be the cause of man's liberation.[50\10] The self-reliance of the
older Greece is breaking down; in humility of heart the pious man
looks elsewhere for help; he needs the revelation and mediation of
"Orpheus the Ruler"[51\10] in order to find the way of salvation; he
must follow his ordinances of salvation with perfect obedience if he
is to continue in that way.
It is not only the sacred mysteries themselves, in the form in which
Orpheus has ordained them, which prepare for the release; a complete
"Orphic life"[52\10] must be developed out {343} of them. Asceticism
is the prime condition of the pious life. This does not mean the
practice of the respectable bourgeois virtues, nor the discipline
and moral reformation of a man's character; the height of morality
is in this case the turning again towards god,[53\10] and the
turning away not merely from the weaknesses and errors of earthly
being but from the whole of earthly life itself; renunciation of all
that ties man to mortality and the life of the body. The fierce
determination with which the Indian penitent tears away his will
from life, to which every organ in his body clings desperately--for
this, indeed, there was no place among the Greeks, the lovers of
life--not even among the world-denying ascetics. Abstention from the
eating of flesh was the strongest and most striking species of
self-denial practised by the Orphic ascetics.[54\10] Apart from
this, they kept themselves in all essentials uncontaminated by
certain things and situations which rather suggested to a religious
symbolism than actually indicated in themselves attachment to the
world of death and transitoriness. The long-standing ordinances of
the priestly ritual of purification were taken up and added
to;[55\10] but they were also raised to a higher plane. They are no
longer intended to free men from the effects of daimonic contacts;
the soul itself is made pure by them[56\10]--pure from the body and
its polluting association, pure from death and its loathsome
mastery. In expiation of "guilt" the soul is confined within the
body,[57\10] the wages of sin is in this case that life upon earth
which for the soul is death. The whole multiplicity of the universe,
emptied of its innocent and natural sequence of cause and effect,
appears to these zealots under the uniform aspect of a correlation
between crime and punishment, between pollution and purification.
Thus, mysticism enters into the closest alliance with kathartic
practices. The soul which comes from the divine and strives to
return thither, has no other purpose to fulfil upon earth (and
therefore no other moral law to obey); it must be free from life
itself and be pure from all that is earthly.
The Orphics, moreover, were the only people who could venture among
themselves or before strangers to greet each other with the special
name of the "Pure".[58\10] The first reward of his piety was
received by the initiate of the Orphic mysteries in that
intermediate region whither men must go after their earthly death.
When a man dies, Hermes leads the "deathless soul" into the
underworld.[59\10] Special poems of the Orphic community announced
the terrors and delights of the underworld kingdom.[60\10] What the
Orphic {344}mystery-priests vouchsafed to their public upon these
hidden matters--outdoing the promises made in the Eleusinian
mysteries in coarse appeal to the senses--may have been the most
popular, but was certainly not the most original feature of Orphic
teaching.[61\10] In Hades a judgment awaited the soul--it was no
instinctive fancy of the people, but the "sacred doctrine"[62\10] of
these sectaries which first introduced and elaborated the idea of
compensatory justice in the world of the dead. The impious suffer
punishment and purgation in the depths of Tartaros;[63\10] those who
have not been made pure by the Orphic mysteries lie in the miry
Pool;[64\10] "dreadful things[65\10] await" the disdainer of the
sacred worship. By a conception that is quite unique in ancient
religion, participation in the Orphic ceremonial enables the
descendant to obtain from the gods "pardon and purification" for his
departed ancestors who may be paying the penalty in the next world
for the misdeeds of the past.[66\10] But for the initiate of the
Orphic mysteries himself who has not merely borne the _narthex_ but
has been a true Bakchos,[67\10] his reward is that he shall obtain a
"milder fate" in the kingdom of the underworld deities whom he has
revered on earth, and dwell "in the fair meadows of deep-running
Acheron".[68\10] The blessed home of refuge no longer lies like the
Homeric Elysium upon earth, but below in the world of the Souls, for
only the released soul reaches there. There, the initiated and
purified will live in communion with the gods of the nether
world[69\10]--we feel that we are listening to Thracian and not
Greek conceptions of the ideal when we hear of the "Banquet of the
Pure" and the uninterrupted intoxication which they enjoy
there.[70\10]
But the depths restore the soul at last to the light, for its
lasting habitation is not below; it stays there only for the
interval which separates death from its next rebirth. For the
reprobate this is a time of punishment and purgation--the Orphics
could not distress their hearers with the awful and intolerable idea
of the _perpetual_ punishment of the damned in Hell; many times over
the soul rises again to the light and in continually renewed bodies
fulfils the cycle of births. For the deeds of its past life it is
recompensed in the next life that it lives, and each man must now
suffer exactly what he has done to another.[71\10] So he pays the
penalty for ancient guilt: the "thrice-ancient law"--what thou hast
done thou shalt suffer--is thus fulfilled for him in far livelier
fashion than it could be in any torments of the shadow-world. So
surely also shall the pure be rewarded in future lives by
ever-increasing happiness. How exactly the Orphic fancy filled out
the {345} individual gradations in the scale of happiness is beyond
our knowledge.[72\10]
But the soul is immortal, and even sinners and the unredeemed cannot
perish entirely. Hades and the life on earth holds them in their
perpetual round, and this is their punishment. For the soul of the
blessed, however, neither Hades nor earthly life can offer the
highest crown of happiness. If it has been made pure and spotless in
the Orphic mysteries and the Orphic manner of life, it is freed from
the necessity of rebirth and withdrawn from the cycle of becoming
and perishing. The "purification" ends in a final redemption. The
soul mounts upwards from the base level of earthly life, not to
become nothing in a final death, for it is now that it first truly
begins to live; hitherto it has lain imprisoned in the body like the
corpse in the grave.[73\10] It was death for the soul when it
entered into life--now it is free and will no more suffer death; it
lives for ever like God, for it comes from God and is itself divine.
We do not know whether these theosophists went so far as to lose
themselves in detailed picturing and contemplation of the blissful
heights of the divine life.[74\10] In the remains of their poems we
read of stars and the moon as other worlds,[75\10] perhaps as the
dwelling-place of illuminated spirits.[76\10] But perhaps also the
poet allowed the soul to flee from its last contact with mortality
without himself desiring to follow it into the unbroken radiance of
divinity that no earthly eye can abide.
§ 5
This, then, is the keystone that completes the arch of Orphic
religion--the belief in the divine, immortal, and abiding life of
the soul for whom union with the body and its desires is a thwarting
hindrance and repression--a punishment from which its one desire, as
soon as it is awakened to a full knowledge of itself is to escape in
order that it may belong entirely to itself in full enjoyment of its
powers. The contrast between these ideas and those of the Homeric
world is complete; _there_, the soul released from the body was
credited only with a poor, shadowy, half-conscious existence, so
that an eternity of godlike being in the full enjoyment of life and
its powers was only thinkable if the body and the soul, the twofold
self of man, were translated in undissolved communion out of the
world of mortality. The Orphic legends about the origin of the human
race do not tell us the real source and derivation of the very
different beliefs about the soul held by the Orphics; those legends
only give expression to the {346} way--and only one of many
ways[77\10]--in which the already established confidence in the
divinity of the soul was deducible from what might be considered the
oldest historical story of mankind, and how it might be brought into
connexion with the Orphic legend of the gods. This persuasion, the
belief that a god was living in man and a god that could not be free
until he had broken through the prison of the body, was deeply
rooted in the worship of Dionysos and the ecstasies belonging to
that worship; we cannot be in much doubt that it was taken over
ready-made, together with the "enthusiastic" cult of the divinity,
and further developed by the Orphic believers. We have already met
with traces of this belief even in the Thracian home of the
Dionysiac cult; and in what we know of the Thracian form of the
religion, traces are not absolutely wanting of an ascetic tendency
of living that would easily and naturally arise from such a
belief.[78\10] Even in those Northern countries we found the belief
in the transmigration of souls bound up with the religion of
Dionysos, and that belief, when it is naively held, has as its
essential presupposition the idea that the soul, in order to have a
complete life, and one that can survive bodily death, must of
necessity be united to another body. Even this idea is, however,
quite foreign to Orphism. The Orphics retained, in spite of
everything, the doctrine of transmigration, and combined it in a
strange alliance with their own belief in the divinity of the soul
and its vocation to a life of perfect liberty. It is evidently
improbable that they invented that doctrine entirely on their own
account; the first principles of their creed by no means led
necessarily to it. Herodotos[79\10] asserts distinctly that the
doctrine of transmigration came to the Greeks from Egypt; and as a
consequence, that it was from Egyptian tradition that the Orphics
received it. This assertion has no more to recommend it than any
other of Herodotos' many pronouncements as to the Egyptian origin of
Greek opinions and legends, and it is even less likely to mislead us
in view of the fact that it is by no means certain and not even
probable that a belief in transmigration ever really existed in
Egypt.[80\10] This belief has arisen independently in many places on
the surface of the earth, without the need of transmission from one
place to another;[81\10] it might easily arise in a country where
the belief prevailed that there existed only a limited number of
souls of which each one--in order that no earthly body might be
without its spiritual guest--must inhabit many perishable
life-tenements, and not be bound to any one of them by a real inner
necessity. This, {347} however, is a conception common to popular
psychology all over the world.[82\10] If it is still considered more
probable that the idea of a migration of the soul through many
temporary bodies was not spontaneously evolved by the Orphics, but
was received by them from the hands of others, there is yet no
reason to reject the most natural assumption--namely, that this also
was one of the beliefs that the Orphics took over with the cult of
Dionysos from Thrace. Like other mystics,[83\10] the Orphics took
over the belief in transmigration from popular tradition and turned
it into a serviceable member of their own body of doctrine.[84\10]
It served them by giving a striking and physical expression to their
own conception of the inevitable connexion between guilt and
penance, pollution and the refining power of punishment, piety and
future blessedness upon which all their religious ethic depended. It
was with an exactly similar purpose that they also retained and
developed the old Greek idea of a place of the souls in the depths
below the earth.
But if they believed in the transmigration of souls, that belief did
not with them hold the highest place. There is a realm where the
ever free and divine souls have their being, a realm to which the
series of lives in earthly bodies is only transitional, and the way
to it was pointed out by the saving doctrine of the Orphic
mysteries, by the purification and salvation afforded by Orphic
asceticism.
NOTES TO CHAPTER X
[1\10: ~. . . ho/s pote kai\ teleta\s mustêri/das heu/reto
Ba/kchou~, _AP._ vii, 9, 5 (Damagetos). ~dio\ kai\ ta\s hupo\ tou=
Dionu/sou genome/nas teleta\s Orphika\s prosagoreuthê=nai~, D.S. 3,
65, 6. ~heu=re de\ Orpheu\s ta\ Dionu/son mustê/ria~ [Apollod.] 1,
3, 2, 3. (Dionysum) Iove et Luna (natum), cui sacra Orphica putantur
confici: Cic., _ND._ iii, 58; cf. Lyd., _Mens._ 4, 51, p. 107 W.
~Bakchika/~ an Orphic poem: Suid. ~Orpheu/s~ (cf. Hiller, _Hermes_,
21, 364 f.), whence _fr._ 3 (Abel); and perhaps _frr._ 152, 167,
169, 168. ~ta\ Orphika\ kalou/mena kai\ ta\ Bakchika/~ are already
reckoned as a single class by Hdt. ii, 81.]
[2\10: This is seen in the decree of the Council and people of
Athens dealing with the ~e/mporoi Kitiei=s~ and their temple of
"Aphrodite"--_CIA._ ii, 168 (333/2 B.C.).--That on the other hand
such foreign mystery-cults were not always so tolerated (or not
without resistance is shown by the case of Ninos: Dem., _FL._ (19)
281 with Sch.; cf. D.H., _Dinarch._ 11.]
[3\10: ~theoi\ xenikoi/~, Hsch., see Lob., _Agl._ 627 ff. A nameless
~theo\s xeniko/s~ occurs in _CIA._ i, 273 f., 18.--The foundation of
such ~thi/asoi~ for foreign deities (or deities at least not
officially worshipped by the city in question) is almost invariably
the work of foreigners (many exx. from Rhodos in _BCH._ 1889, p.
364). They are all foreigners, e.g. whose names occur in the decree
of the ~thiasô=tai~ of the Karian Zeus Labraundos, _CIA._ ii, 613
(298/7 B.C.); cf. ib. 614; _SIG._ 726. Merchants from Kition found a
cult of their Aphrodite (Astarte) in Athens, just as some Egyptians
had a little while before put up ~to\ tê=s I/sidos hiero/n~ there:
_CIA._ ii, 168. The names of foreigners (in addition to Athenians)
are very numerous among the ~o/nomata tô=n eranistô=n~ of a
_**collegium_ of ~Sabaziastai/~ in the Peiraeus (second century
B.C.): ~Eph. Arch.~ 1883, p. 245 f. The foreign worship would then
begin to receive the support of natives of the host-city (most of
them being at first of the poorer classes), and in this way the new
religion would gain a footing in its adopted home. (Pure Athenian
citizens compose the society of the Dionysiastai in the Peiraeus,
second century B.C., _Ath. Mitt._ ix, 288 = _CIA._ iv, 2, 623 d.)]
[4\10: The Bendideia early became a state festival in Athens (even
fifth century, _CIA._ i, 210, _fr._ K, p. 93). An allusion in Plato
(_Rp._ 327 A), however, shows that the Thracians (who must have
introduced the cult of Bendis into Athens, or at least into the
Peiraeus, the home of most ~thi/asoi~) still kept up a special
worship of their goddess in their own manner, side by side with the
Hellenized cult. It appears at least as if the worship in its
remodelled Greek form seemed to them no longer the right one.
(Bendis, too, like Dionysos, is a divinity of both this world and
the next: see Hsch. ~di/logchon~.)]
[5\10: Alleged traces of Orphic influence on special sections of the
Iliad (~Dio\s apa/tê~) or the Odyssey are entirely illusory, nor did
the Orphic doctrines exert any influence on the Hesiodic _Theogony_.
On the other hand, Orphism was itself strongly affected by the
primitive Greek theology the fragments of which were put together in
the Hesiodic poem.]
[6\10: ~Onoma/kritos . . . Dionu/sô| sune/thêken o/rgia~, Paus. 8,
37, 5.] {349}
[7\10: Among the writers of Orphic poems mentioned by (1) Clem. Al.,
_Str._ 1, 21, p. 397 P. (from Epigenes) and (2) Suidas (from
Epigenes and another authority: both Su. and Clem. probably got
their information through the mediation of D.H.)--two certain
Pythagoreans are named, Brotinos (of Kroton or Metapontum) and
Kerkops (not the Milesian). [Abel, _Orphica_, p. 139.] From lower
Italy or Sicily come: Zopyros of Herakleia (the same person is
probably meant by Iamb., _VP._ 190, 5 N., when he counts Zopyros
among the Pythagoreans coming from Tarentum), Orpheus of Kroton,
Orpheus of Kamarina (Suid.), Timokles of Syracuse. Pythagoras
himself is mentioned among the writers of Orphic poems in the
~Triagmoi/~ of [Ion] (at least as early as the beginning of the
fourth century). Apart from these the only names of conjectured
composers of Orphic poems are: Theognetos ~ho Thettalo/s~, Prodikos
of Samos, Herodikos of Perinthos, Persinos of Miletos; all of whom
are unknown to us except Persinos, whom Obrecht not improbably
identifies with the court poet of Euboulos of Atarneus mentioned by
Poll. ix, 93 (cf. Lob. 359 f. Bgk., _PLG._ iii, 655). In this case
he is an Orphic of a much later period.]
[8\10: ~homologe/ousi de\~ (sc. ~Aigu/ptioi) tau=ta~ (prohibition to
bury the dead in woollen clothing) ~toi=si Orphikoi=si
kaleome/noisi, kai\ Bakchikoi=si, eou=si de\ Aigupti/oisi kai\
Puthagorei/oisi~, Hdt. ii, 81. There can be no doubt that Hdt. in
these words meant to derive the ~Orphika\ kai\ Bakchika/~ (the four
datives are all neuters, not masc.) from the ~Aigu/ptia kai\
Puthago/reia~, i.e. the Pythagorean ordinances which were themselves
derived from Egypt (cf. Gomperz, _Sitzb. Wien. Ak._ 1886, p. 1032).
If he had regarded the ~Puthago/reia~ as entirely independent of the
~Aigu/ptia~ (and the ~Orphika/~ as independent of the Pythag.) he
certainly could not have brought them in here. (This answers Zeller,
_Ber. Berlin. Ak._ 1889, p. 994, who introduces a comma before ~kai\
Puth.~)--It is equally impossible (with Maass, _Orpheus_, p. 165,
1895), to connect the ~eou=si de\ Aigupti/oisi~ with ~Bakchikoi=si~
_only_; it must of necessity go with ~toi=si Orphikoi=si~ as well;
for it is the whole point of Hdt.'s note to show that the religious
usage which he mentions has, like so much else of the kind in Greece
wherever it may be found, been borrowed from Egypt, and "is
Egyptian". In this he would fail completely if he did not regard the
~Orphika/~ (and hence also the ~Puthago/reia~) as ~Aigu/ptia eo/nta~
and clearly say so. Hdt. certainly has no idea, as Maass would have
us believe, of making a generic distinction between ~Orphika/~ and
~Bakchika/~: ~Bakch.~ is the name of the genus of which ~Orph.~ is
the species.--"the ~Orphika/~, and the ~Bakchika/~ in general." Not
_all_ ~Bakchika/~ are ~Orphika/~. This use of ~kai\~ whereby the
whole is added subsequently to the part is perfectly regular and
legitimate (it may also add the part to the whole as in the cases
adduced by Maass, 166 n.: ~ta\s Dionusiaka\s kai\ ta\s Orphika/s~,
etc.). Hdt. mentions the ~Puthago/reia~ last in order to indicate by
what intermediate step the Egyptian element in the first-mentioned
~Orphika/~ was specially assisted--he has further in ii, 123, shown
clearly enough that he regarded Pythagoras as one of the pupils of
the Egyptians (P. in any case is one of the teachers of immortality
there referred to). This is also obvious from his whole
attitude.--Hdt.'s opinion does not in any case oblige us to believe
in it. He was forced to regard Pythagoras as the earliest author of
Orphic doctrine because _his_ connexion with Egypt seemed certain
(cf. Hdt. ii, 123) while that of the ~Orphikoi/~ themselves was not
so: in this way only could Hdt. seem to prove the Egyptian origin of
that doctrine.--The priority of the Orphics is often supposed to be
proved by the witness of Philolaos (_fr._ 14 D.) ap. Clem. Al.,
_Str._ {350} 3, 3, p. 518 P. (and cf. Cic., _Hortens. fr._ 85 Or.);
it must be admitted, however, that the passage does not prove what
it is supposed to do.]
[9\10: _Frr._ 143-51 (cf. Lob. 715 ff.). Here, indeed, Orphic and
Pythagorean doctrine are mixed up inextricably. _Fr._ 143
(~Puthagorei/ôs te kai\ Orphikô=s~ Syrian.) belongs to the ~eis to\n
arithmo\n _Puthago/reios_ hu/mnos~ which is several times distinctly
so called by Proclus. (The _frr._ are in Nauck, Iamb., _VP._, p.
228. _fr._ iii). _Fr._ 147 (Lyd. _Mens._) obviously comes from the
same (Nauck, p. 234, _fr._ ix). The same is at least highly probable
of the _frr._ 144-6, 148-51. Probably what Orpheus says of the
number 12 comes from the same ~hu/mnos~ (ap. Procl. _in _Rp.__ ii,
131, 10 Kroll). Proclus, however (_in _Rp.__ 169, 25 K.), also cites
ll. 2-5 from the ~hu/mnos~ (Nauck, _fr._ iii) but this time
attributes them to an ~eis to\n arithmo\n _Horphiko\s_ hu/mnos~.
This Orphico-Pythagorean ~hu/mnos~ had at any rate nothing to do
with the (Rhaps.) Theogony of Orpheus. On the other hand, the words
~tetra/da tetrake/raton~, which acc. to Procl. _in _Rp.__ 169, 29
K., occurred ~muria/kis~ in the ~Orphikê\ theologi/a~, come from the
Theogony. They were possibly used as a title of Zagreus the ~kero/en
bre/phos~ (Nonn., _D._ vi, 165): though what is here said by Proclus
about the ~Dionusiakê\~ (i.e. of Zagreus) ~theo/tês~, viz. that it
~tetra/s estin~, was applied rather to the four-eyed Orphic _Phanes_
by Hermias (_fr._ 64 Ab.).]
[10\10: On the other hand, there is much in Orphic theology and
poetry that is taken immediately from the primitive Thracian worship
of Dionysos and absent from Pythagorean teaching. This makes it very
probable that even such _theologoumena_ as are common to Orphism and
Pythagoreanism really go back to the fanatical cult of Dionysos, or
at least were easily thence derived by religious speculation: in
this case the Orphics may well have got them from this original
source of mystic lore that was common to both parties and not by the
circuitous route of Pythagorean teaching. Orphism remained more
closely attached to the common source than did Pythagoreanism, and
may for that reason be regarded as somewhat older than its rival and
be supposed to have originated independently of it.]
[11\10: Zopyros of Herakleia, Orpheus of Kroton: Tz., _Prol. in
Aristoph._ ([p. 20, 28 Kaibel, _Com. Fr._] Ritschl, _Opusc._ i,
207); Suid. ~Orph. Krotônia/tês~ (from Asklepiades of Myrlea).]
[12\10: We may not simply take it for granted that the account given
in Dem. 18, 259-60, of the nocturnal initiations and the processions
by day through the city held by a mystical sect, is intended to
describe the secret mysteries of an _Orphic_ conventicle (as Lob.
does 646 ff., 652 ff., 695 f.). The explanation of the ~apoma/ttein
tô=| pêlô=|~ of that passage by reference to the specially Orphic
myth of Zagreus and the Titans is arbitrary in itself and hard to
reconcile with the language of Demosth. (Harp. and Phot. are
responsible for this expl.) Hardly more successful is the derivation
of the call ~a/ttês hu/ês~ from the ~a/tê~ of Dionysos (Zagreus) on
being torn to pieces by the Titans: _EM._ 163, 63. A definite
connexion undoubtedly does exist between the ~Orphika\ o/rgia~ and
the ~Saba/zia kai\ Mêtrô=|a~ (Str. 471) described by Dem.; but the
Orphics were never called worshippers of Sabazios nor their god
~Saba/zios~, and it seems likely that their secret worship was
different from the ceremonies of the ~Sabaziastai/~ that Dem. had in
view (the latter may have retained more of the primitive barbaric
ritual: cf. the ins. given in ~Eph. Arch.~ 1883, p. 245 f. = _CIA._
iv, _Supp._ ii, n. 626 b; from the end of second century B.C.).]
[13\10: See Lob., _Agl._ 235 f., 237, 242 f.]
[14\10: To attribute the practical side of Orphism to a late
degeneration {351} of the once purely speculative character of the
sect (as many have done) is a very arbitrary proceeding and quite
unjustifiable on historical grounds. The fact that a clear
description of this activity does not occur before the fourth
century (in Plato) does not prove that it did not exist earlier.
Apart from this an ~orpheotelestê/s~ named Philippos is mentioned by
Plu., _Apoph. Lac._ 224 E as a contemporary of King Leotychidas II
of Sparta (reigned 491-469). This evidence is not to be so easily
set aside, as K. O. Müller, _Introd. Scient. Myth._ 311 ff., would
like to do. The Orphic sect from the very beginning derived its
strength from its _telestic_ and _kathartic_ practices.]
[15\10: Thphr., _Ch._ 28 (16).]
[16\10: ~autou= (Orphe/ôs) me\n ei=nai ta\ do/gmata, tau=ta de/
phêsin~ (Aristot.) ~Onoma/kriton en e/pesi katatei=nai~ Arist. ~p.
philosophi/as~ _fr._ 10 [7] Rose, _Arist. Pseudepig._]
[17\10: Tatian, _Gr._ 41 (p. 42 Schw.), seems to speak only of
_redaction_ (~sunteta/chthai~) of the ~eis Orphe/a anaphero/mena~
among already existing Orphic poems as the work of Onomakritos (in
the same way Onomakr. is only the ~diathe/tês~--the arranger not the
author--of the ~chrêsmoi/~ of "Mousaios", Hdt. vii, 6). Traces of an
external linking-together of the individual poems of Orpheus in a
"redaction" are not wanting (cf. the linking-together of the poems
of the Epic Cycle or of the corpus Hesiodeum): first of all coming
in all probability the greater ~kratê/r~ (as in the enumeration of
Clem. Al., _Str._ i, 21, p. 397 P.); see Lob. 376, 417, 469.--Clem.
Al., _Str._ i, p. 397 P. (and Eus., _PE._ 10, 11, p. 495 D) is only
derived from Tatian, though Onomakr. is here definitely called the
_author_ of the ~eis Orphe/a phero/mena poiê/mata~. Onomakr. seems
also to have been simply regarded as the author of the ~Orphika/~ in
the doxographical excerpt ap. S.E. _P._ iii, 30 = _M._ 9, 361, p.
287 Mutschm.; cf. Gal., _H. Philos._ (_Dox._, p. 610, 15):
~Onoma/kritos en toi=s Orphikoi=s~.--On the other hand, in
the--admittedly incomplete--enumeration of Orphic poems in Clem.
Al., _Str._ i, 21, p. 397 P., not _one_ is attributed to Onomakr.,
and in Suid. ~Orpheu\s~ he is only given the ~chrêsmoi/~ (no
confusion with the ~chrêsmoi/~ of Mousaios is to be suspected here)
and the _~teletai/~_. Paus. (8, 37, 5) mentions (without naming
them) ~e/pê~ of Onomakr. (cf. Ritschl, _Opusc._ i, 241). Some at
least of the poetry going under the name of Orpheus must have been
ascribed to Onomakr. by Arist. (_fr._ 10 [7 Teubn.]).]
[18\10: Suid. ~Orpheu/s~, 2721 A Gaisf.]
[19\10: Onomakr. ~ei=nai tou\s Tita=nas tô=| Dionu/sô| tô=n
pathêma/tôn epoi/êsen autourgou/s~, Paus. 8, 37, 5. Lob., p. 335,
thinks this refers to the "Theogony": but no authority attributes a
single one of the several Orphic Theogonies to Onomakr. as its real
author. We should rather be inclined to think of the ~teletai/~
which is distinctly ascribed to Onomakr. and which at least dealt
with the practical side of worship: cf. Pl., _Rp._ 364 E-365 A,
~lu/seis, katharmoi/ adikêma/tôn ktl. ha\s dê\ teleta\s kalou=sin~
(but it was not that the mystical ~bi/bloi~ were _called_ ~teletai/~
as Gruppe, _Gr. Culte u. Mythen_, i, 640, mistakenly supposes: he is
otherwise quite right in his protest against Abel's treatment of the
~teletai/~). They must almost necessarily have dealt with the
reproduction of the ~pa/thê tou= Dionu/sou~ (as providing the
~hiero\s lo/gos~ to the ~drô/mena~), and, as the central idea of the
orgiastic cult, must have included the most important circumstance
of the Orphic ~teletai/~ (see D.S. 5, 75, 4; Clem. Al., _Protr._ ii,
17, p. 15 P.).]
[20\10: One of the poems (perhaps indeed the poem of the
~rhapsô|di/ai~, and in that case the ~hiero\s lo/gos~ as well) made
Orpheus distinctly appeal to a revelation made to him by Apollo:
_fr._ 49 (see Lob. 469).] {352}
[21\10: Besides the three Theogonies distinguished by Damascius
there were (apart from other more doubtful traces) at least two
other variations of the same theme: see _fr._ 85 (Alex. Aphrod.) and
_frr._ 37; 38 (Clem. Rom.); cf. Gruppe, i, 640 f.--The series of
divine rulers given by "Orpheus" acc. to Nigid. Fig. ap. Serv.
_Ecl._ iv, 10 (_fr._ 248 Ab.), conflicts with all the other
Theogonies but agrees in some particulars with Lact. i, 13 (_fr._
243). Still, this remark need not necessarily have been taken from
any Orphic "Theogony".]
[22\10: (Zeus) ~. . . prôtogo/noio chano\n me/nos Êrikapai/ou, tô=n
pa/ntôn de/mas ei=chen heê=| eni\ gaste/ri koi/lê|~, _fr._ 120 (from
the Rhapsodiai. We are accustomed to read here ~chanô/n~ with Zoëga
(_Abh._ 262 f.): but ~chanô/n~ does not mean "catching up or
devouring" [Zo.]; at most it might mean, in bad late-Greek, just the
opposite of this--"abandoning" (transitive). Lobeck's explanation (p.
519 n.) is also unsatisfactory. The word may have been originally
~_chadô/n_~.]
[23\10: The line occurred in various forms in the Theogonic poem;
_frr._ 33 (Plato?); 46 [Arist.] _de Mundo_); 123 (Rhapsod).; see
Lob. 520-32. It seems certain then (Gruppe's doubts go too far:
_Rhaps. Theog._ 704 ff.) that the line appeared in the oldest form
of Orphic Theogony and was merely borrowed thence, like so much else
that was ancient, by the Rhapsod. Theogony (i.e. the words, ~Zeu\s
kephalê\ ktl.~ which would be the oldest form, as Gruppe rightly
remarks: ~kephalê\ = teleutê/~; cf. Pl., _Ti._ 69 B). Even the
writer of the speech _against Aristogeiton A_ ([Dem.] 25), an Orphic
adherent, appears, as Lob. remarks, to allude to the words in § 8.]
[24\10: _Theokrasia_ must have belonged to Orphic theology from the
outset: Lob. 614; though the most extreme examples of this may
perhaps come from later poems: _frr._ 167; 169 (Macr.); 168 (D.S.);
201 (Rhaps.), etc., being probably derived from the "Little Krater"
(_fr._ 160), in which Chrysippos seems to be imitated (Lob. 735 and
_fr._ 164), and from the ~Diathê=kai~, _fr._ 7 (J.M.) a forgery in
Judaeo-Christian interests which nevertheless made use of many
ancient pieces of Orphic literature (the ~hiero\s lo/gos~: Lob. 450
ff., 454).--Theokrasia is met with even in the orthodox poets of the
fifth century, though they did not invent it; the "theologoi" of the
sixth century Epimenides and Pherekydes were as familiar with it as
were the Orphics; cf. Kern, _de Theogon._ 92.]
[25\10: See Append. ix.]
[26\10: It must have been chiefly the religious significance of the
gods which caused the retention of their personalities and prevented
them from fading into mere personifications of abstract ideas or
elementary powers with which _religion_ could have had nothing
further to do.]
[27\10: In the statements of the Neoplatonic writers this first
Orphic Dionysos is regularly called ~Dio/nusos~ simply (perhaps also
~Ba/kchos~: _fr._ 192). Nonnus in recounting the Orphic legend calls
him Zagreus: _D._ vi, 165; cf. ~Zagre/a geiname/nê~ (of Perseph.)
with clear allusion to Callim. _fr._ 171, ~hui=a Diô/nuson Zagre/a
geiname/nê~. Callim. here, as elsewhere, seems to have in mind the
_Orphic_ story. Tz. on Lyc. 355 calls the god of the Orphic legend
~Dio/nuson to\n kai\ Zagre/a kalou/menon. Zagreu/s~ the great Hunter
is a name of the all-absorbing Hades: thus also the _Alkmaionis fr._
3 Kink. Zagreus is identified with the Dionysos of nocturnal revelry
in E., _Kret. fr._ 472, 10 (a reference in _Ba._ 1181 Kirchh.); and
see above, chap. viii, n. 28. This Dionysos is regarded as a
~chtho/nios~ (see Hsch. ~Zagreu/s~) and this must indubitably have
been quite familiar to the poets who made him the son of Persephone:
~chtho/nios ho tê=s Persepho/nês Dio/nusos~ (Harp. ~leu/kê~). {353}
They were as clearly conscious as was Herakleitos of the fact that
~hôuto\s Ha/idês kai\ Dio/nusos~, whereas this consciousness was
undoubtedly obscured in the public ceremonial of Dionysos-worship
(to which, however, Hcl.'s saying refers). Zagreus-Dionysos was
never identified with the ~I/akchos~ of the Eleusinia (to which
Orph. _fr._ 215, l. 2 refers); though Dionysos alone was often so
identified.]
[28\10: Ouranos casts the Titans into Tartaros: _frr._ 97, 100. Acc.
to Procl. (_fr._ 205) and Arn. (196: prob. not from the Rhaps.) we
should be led to suppose that the Titans after they had torn Zagreus
in pieces were cast down to Tartaros by _Zeus_. In Arn. this is set
down side by side with the statement that the Titans were destroyed
by the lightning of Zeus (~hê Tita/nôn kerau/nôsis~, Plu., _Es.
Carn._ 1, 7, p. 996 C), though obviously incompatible with the
latter statement, as it is also (even more so) with the origin of
mankind from the ashes of the Titans which is known not only to
Olympiodoros (_ad _Phd.__, p. 68 Finckh: Lob. 566), but also to
Proclus who got it from the "Rhapsodiai" (as also did Olymp.):
Procl., _in _Rp.__ ii, 74, 29; i, 93 Kroll. It seems from this that
Proclus (and perhaps Arn.) in error ascribed the ~katatarta/rôsis~
of the Titans to Zeus instead of to Ouranos.]
[29\10: Nonn. vi, 173; O., _fr._ 195. Perhaps Proclus is right in
explaining this doubling of the god's figure in the mirror as
meaning his entrance upon the ~meristê\ dêmiourgi/a~. A reference to
a similar explanation of this ~Dionu/sou ka/topton~ occurs even in
Plot. 4, 3, 12 (Lob. 555)--? also in the strange statement made by
Marsilius Ficinus as to the crudelissimum apud Orpheum Narcissi
fatum (was Zagreus another Narcissus?) _fr._ 315; cf. Plot. 1, 6, 8.
The entry of the one origin of the universe into the multiplicity of
phenomena is first clearly referred to in the dismemberment of
Zagreus, but it would be quite like this symbol-loving poetry to
introduce the same motif in a different form with a passing
reference earlier in the poem.]
[30\10: Nonn., _D._ vi, 197 ff.]
[31\10: Paus. 8, 37, 5.]
[32\10: Procl., O., _frr._ 195, 198, 199. In any case Nonn. vi,
169 ff. is following the Rhapsodiai.]
[33\10: Callim. and Euphor. knew of the dismemberment of Dionysos by
the Titans: Tz. ad _Lyc._ 208 (from the completer version in _EM._).
In any case it is not from the Rhaps. that this legend is also known
to D.S. 5, 75, 4; Cornut. 30, p. 62, 10 Lang; Plu., _Es. Carn._ 1,
7, p. 996 C; _Is. et Os._ 35, p. 364 F; Clem. Al. (see Orph. _frr._
196, 200).--A roughly caricatured drawing on a hydria belonging to
the early fourth century found at Rhodos and made probably in Attica
appears in _JHS._ xi (1890), p. 243; where it is said to represent
the dismemberment of Zagreus as conceived by Orphics. The picture,
however, does not agree at all with the meaning thus attributed to
it; the interpretation cannot be the right one.]
[34\10: A true ~hiero\s lo/gos~, i.e. an account of the origin of
ritual acts founded upon myth or legend. (The Orphics had such
accounts, e.g. of the prohibition against being buried in woollen
clothing: Hdt. ii, 81 fin.)]
[35\10: That the tearing in pieces of the bull in the primitive
Thracian manner occurred also in the Orphic ~o/rgia~ may perhaps be
deduced from the fact that in the legend Orpheus himself is torn in
pieces by the Mainads. The priest stands in the place of the god:
what the god suffers in the ritual ~drô/mena~ that the priest
suffers too. This is frequently met with. ~Orpheu\s ha/te tô=n
Dionu/sou teletô=n hêgemô\n geno/menos ta\ ho/moia pathei=n le/getai
tô=| sphete/rô| theô=|~, Procl. _in_ {354} _Rp._ i, 175 Kr. The
ancients were fully aware that the bull torn in pieces in the
Bacchic orgies represented the god himself (and this not only in
Orphic ritual but from the beginning in the Thracian worship): the
idea is often expressed (see e.g. Firm. Mat., _Error. P.R._ vi, 5),
but nowhere more clearly than in the Orphic ~hiero\s lo/gos~.]
[36\10: The introduction of the Titans from Hellenic mythology into
the Thracian myth is clearly described as the work of Onomakritos by
Paus. 8, 37, 5.]
[37\10: ~Titê=nes kekomê=tai, hupe/rbion êtor e/chontes~, _fr._ 102.
~amei/lichon êtor e/chontes kai\ phu/sin eknomi/ên~, _fr._ 97. As
early as Hesiod the Titans are hated by their father as ~deino/tatoi
pai/dôn~ (_Theog._ 155). ~Titanikê\ phu/sis~ is the evil character
that cannot keep an oath: Pl., _Lg._ 701 C; Cic., _Lg._ iii, 5;
_impios Titanas_, Hor., _O._ 3, 4, 42.]
[38\10: This explanation of the ~diamelismo/s~ of Zagreus is often
put forward (though subtilized into a Neoplatonic sense) by those who
use the Orphic Rhapsodiai: see Lob. 710 ff. But even Plutarch has
something of the sort (_E ap. D._ 9, p. 389 A), and it cannot be
doubted that this (apart from its Platonist wrappings) was the
meaning of the legend in the mind of its first inventor. Nor can the
conception that the separate existence (multiplicity) of things
first came into the world by an act of _impiety_, have been strange
to the _theologoi_ of the sixth century: we must admit this at once
on remembering the doctrine of Anaximander that the multiplicity of
things which has arisen out of the original one ~a/peiron~ is in
itself an ~_adiki/a_~ for which it must pay "recompense and
punishment" (_fr._ 2 Mull., 9 Diels). Such personification of the
processes of nature and the reading of an ethical sense into them,
combined as it was with a quietist tendency, was much more likely to
have arisen in the fanciful minds of semi-philosophical mystics than
to have been given to them by the philosophers.]
[39\10: See the accounts given in Lob. 565 f.: they come from the
Rhapsodiai. The fact that the origin of men and the doctrine of
Metempsychosis as well were dealt with in the Rhaps. follows from
Procl. _in _Rp.__ ii, 338 Kroll. It must, however, have been from
_older_ Orphic poetry--at any rate, not from the Rhaps.--that the
story was derived by D. Chr. 30, 10 f. Plutarch, too, does at least
refer to it: ~to\ _en hêmi=n_ a/logon kai\ a/takton kai\ bi/aion hoi
palaioi\ Tita=nas ôno/masan~, _Es. Carn._ 1, 7, p. 996 C; and
possibly Opp., _H._ v, 9-10; Ael. _fr._ 89, p. 230, 19 f. Herch.
(Lob. 567 g). Even the words of Xenokrates (_fr._ 20, p. 166 Heinze)
seem to allude to this Orphic myth. Thus the Rhapsodiai in this case
also were following older Orphic teaching and poetry. Orph. _H._ 37
derives from a later age. What Nic. _Th._ 8 ff. reproduces
(mistakenly?) as Hesiodic tradition was perhaps really an echo of
Orphic poetry. Was the derivation of Man from the Titans suggested
by still earlier fancies such as e.g. meet us in passages like _h.
Hom. Ap._ 335 (137) f.: ~Titê=ne/s te theoi\ tô=n e\x _a/ndres_ te
theoi/ te~--? This is not Homeric (for all the Homeric ~patê\r
andrô=n te theô=n te~), though possibly it had a different sense
from what it had for "Orpheus".]
[40\10: Dionysos is the _last_ of the divine rulers of the world:
_frr._ 114, 190. Hence ~despo/tês hêmô=n~, Procl. _in _Crat.__, pp.
59, 114 Boiss. (though Procl. also speaks of e.g. Hermes as ~ho
despo/tês humô=n~ _in Cr._, p. 73 B.). Dionysos is the _sixth_
ruler; Zeus who came before him being the fifth: _frr._ 113 (85,
121, 122). The order given is: 1 Phanes, 2 Nyx, 3 Ouranos, 4 Kronos,
5 Zeus, 6 Dionysos. This is definitely stated by Syrian.: _fr._ 85
(Proclus follows his master: _frr._ 85, 121), and confirmed by the
fragments of the Rhapsodiai: _frr._ 86, 87, 96, 113. It seems,
however, as if Plato actually found this order (as Syrian. thought)
{355} in the Orphic Theogony which he read. It is true that as their
silence shows the Neoplatonists did not find the verse cited by
Plato in the Rhapsodiai as they knew them. (Plato's line is ~he/ktê|
d' en geneê=| katapau/sate ko/smon aoidê=s~: Plu., _E ap. D._ 15, p.
391 D, has the meaningless ~thumo/n~ instead of ~ko/smon~--did he
read ~thesmo/n~?) They were right, however, in deducing from the
line that the ancient Orphic Theogony referred to by Plato also knew
of six generations of the gods (following the Pythagorean ~te/leios
arithmo/s~?) and ended with the sixth generation. The verse was
intended doubtless by Plato himself in rather a different sense and
he only quotes it humorously (Gruppe differs; _Rhaps. Theog._ 693
f.). This passage therefore provides important evidence of the
harmony that existed between the Rhapsodiai and the oldest Orphic
Theogony in the general outlines of their construction. It is, of
course, quite a different question whether the six rulers in the
poem referred to by Plato were the same as those given by the
Rhaps.; nor can we tell whether Dionysos there occupied the last
place, though the predominance held by Dionysos in Orphic belief
makes it very probable that he did.]
[41\10: The authorities who speak of the origin of mankind from the
ashes (or the blood) of the Titans (Lob. 565 ff.) express themselves
in such a way that we are forced to suppose that they regarded this
as essentially the first appearance of men. This, however, cannot be
reconciled with what Proclus, as usual following the Rhapsodiai,
says of the golden and silver ages of mankind under Phanes and
Kronos, which then, and not till then, are followed by the third and
last race, ~to\ titaniko\n ge/nos~: see _fr._ 244 and esp. _in
_Rp.__ ii, 74 Kr. ~thnêtoi/~ in the reign of Phanes even occurs in
the line quoted by Syrian. (_in Ar. Meta._ 935a 22 Us.) _fr._ 85. It
is impossible to say whether this improvement upon the Hesiodic
legend of the Ages of Mankind actually occurred in an ancient Orphic
Theogony (the one used perhaps by Lactant.; O., _fr._ 243, 8; cf.
248), and was thence taken for the Rhapsodiai without being
reconciled with the legend of the origin of men from the ashes of
the Titans; or whether the two scarcely reconcilable accounts of the
origin of men were somehow or other made to agree. (_Fr._ 246 [Plu.]
prob. comes from a picture of the long life enjoyed by the earliest
generations of men: see Lob. 513. This picture does not necessarily
presuppose a series of several ~geneai/~ _before_ the Titanic
race.)]
[42\10: ~me/ros autou= (tou= Dionu/sou) esme/n~, Olymp. (from Orphic
doctrine) _in Pl. _Phd.__, p. 3 Finckh. ~ho en hêmi=n nou=s
Dionusiako/s estin kai\ a/galma o/ntôs tou= Dionu/sou~, Procl. _in
_Crat.__, p. 82 Boiss. The Hellenes are accustomed to make use of
the dismemberment, re-integration and resuscitation of Dionysos ~eis
to\n peri\ tê=s psuchê=s lo/gon ana/gein kai\ tropologei=n~, Orig.,
_Cels._ 4, 17, p. 21 Lo.]
[43\10: ~hoi amphi\ Orphe/a~ think that the soul has the body as a
~peri/bolon, desmôtêri/ou eiko/na~, Pl., _Crat._ 400 C. Certainly
Orphic, too (as the Schol. also say), is ~ho en aporrê/tois
lego/menos lo/gos hôs e/n tini phroura=| esmen hoi a/nthrôpoi ktl.~,
Pl. _Phd._ 62 B; see Lob. 795 f.]
[44\10: _fr._ 221 (_Phd._ 62 B with Sch.). The similar saying of
Philolaos is, as Plato's manner of recording it shows (_Phd._ 61
E-62 B) evidently derived from a saying of the Orphic ~apo/rrêta~
(and Philolaos himself appealed to the ~palaioi\ theolo/goi te kai\
ma/nties~ in confirmation of the closely connected doctrine of the
enclosure of the ~psuchê/~ in the ~sê=ma~ of the ~sô=ma~: _fr._ 23
Mull. 14 Di.). The doctrine continued to be taught by Pythagoreans:
see Euxitheos Pyth. ap. Klearch. in Ath. iv, 157 CD; Cic., _Sen._
73. It had moreover some root in popular belief and in legal usage:
see above, chap. v, n. 33.] {356}
[45\10: According to the ~Orphika\ e/pê kalou/mena~, ap. Arist. _de
An._ 1, 5, p. 410b, 28 ff.: ~tê\n psuchê\n ek tou= ho/lou eisie/nai
anapneo/ntôn pherome/nên hupo\ tô=n ane/môn~. (The ancient
commentators add nothing fresh.) ~ek tou= **ho/lou~ means simply
"out of space". The ~a/nemoi~ were regarded as daimonic powers
subordinate and related to the ~Tritopa/tores~: see above, chap. v,
n. 124. We cannot say how this conception was made to square with
the other articles of Orphic belief (purgation of souls in Hades,
etc.). It is plainly nothing but an attempt at such reconciliation
that (following the Rhapsodiai, _fr._ 224) makes the souls that pass
in death out of the bodies of men, go into Hades, while those that
have inhabited the bodies of animals fly about in the wind ~eiso/ken
auta\s a/llo apharpa/zê| mi/gdên ane/moio pnoê=|sin~. Aristotle
knows nothing of any such restriction. Plato (_Phd._ 81 D; rather
differently 108 AB) apparently making free use of Orphic ideas
regards _all_ the ~mê\ katharô=s apoluthei=sai psuchai/~ as liable
to the same fate as that allotted by the Rhapsodiai to the beasts.
(Of course it is possible to suppose that the ~psuchai/~ on being
released from Hades for a new ~ensôma/tôsis~ first of all fly about
in the wind round the dwelling places of the living and are then
breathed into a new body. This would not prevent there being a
predestined conjunction of a particular soul with the particular
~sô=ma~ corresponding to its state of purification.)--The
establishment in later Orphic poetry of the theory that the
~psuchai/~ dwelt in the air may have been assisted by the
philosophic theory of the soaring-up of the ~pneu/mata~ into their
element the aether (of which more below). This theory, though not
first put forward by the Stoics, was specially favoured by them: it
almost attained the status of a popularly accepted belief. When the
realm of the souls had thus been at least in part transferred to the
air, late Orphic poetry began to regard one of the four rivers of
the soul-world, ~Ache/rôn~, as the ~aê/r~: _frr._ 155, 156 (Rhaps.).
There is no reason to see in all this the traces of a supposed
ancient conception in which Okeanos is really a river in the sky (in
spite of Bergk's fanciful speculations in _Opusc._ ii, 691-6). The
elevation of the soul-kingdom to the sky is in Greek thought
invariably the result of comparatively late speculation. We might
even ask whether there is not Egyptian influence at work in the
transference of Okeanos (= the Milky Way?) to the sky. Such
influence would be late of course; but in Egypt the idea of the Nile
in the sky was quite familiar.]
[46\10: ~ku/klos tê=s gene/seôs~, _fr._ 226; ~ho tê=s moi/ras
trocho/s~, _rota fati et generationis_: see Lob. 797 ff.]
[47\10: ~hoi d' autoi\ pate/res te kai\ huie/es en mega/roisin
(polla/kis) êd' a/lochoi semnai\ kednai/ te thu/gatres . . .
gi/gnont' allê/lôn metameibome/nê|si gene/thlais~, _frr._ 225, 222
(Rhaps.). Here, as Lob. 797 rightly remarks, there is an allusion to
the dogma of the recurrence of exactly the same state of things in
the world. The doctrine of complete ~paliggenesi/a~ or
~**apokata/stasis hapantôn~ (see Gataker ad. M. Ant.^1, p. 385) was
closely and indeed indissolubly bound up with the doctrine of the
migration of souls. (Illogicality belongs rather to the conception
of the break in the circle caused by the secession of individual
souls.) It was therefore found among the Pythagoreans to whom it is
ascribed by Eudemos _fr._ 51 sp. (see Porph., _VP._ 19, p. 26, 23
ff. N.; used later still in a Pythagorean sense by Synes., _Aeg._ 2,
7, p. 62 f. Krab.). It was borrowed from the Pythagoreans by the
Stoa (by Chrysippos esp.), which after its usual fashion pushed the
rather bizarre fancy to pedantic extremes. (After the Stoic model is
Plot. 5, 7, and perhaps also the _genethliaci_ spoken of by Varro
ap. Aug., _CD._ 22, 28.) It is at least {357} probable in the
extreme that these ideas were first held by the Orphics and not
borrowed by them from the Stoics: there are even traces in Orphic
tradition of the great World-year (which is always closely connected
with the ~apokata/stasis tô=n hapa/ntôn~): Lob. 792 ff.]
[48\10: ~ku/klon te lê=xai kai\ anapneu=sai kako/têtos~ were the
words Proclus probably had before him: (_fr._ 226) _in _Tim.__ 330
B. The forms ~a\n lê/xai kai\ anapneu/sai~--thus rightly accented
here by Schneider--come from Procl. himself, who accommodates the
words of the original to the construction of his own sentence. We
must therefore _not_ write ~au= lê=xai~ with Gale and Lob. 800. In
this case the subject of the sentence is the praying soul; on the
other hand, in the form preserved by Simp., ~ku/klon t' allu=sai
kai\ anapsu=xai kako/têtos~, the subject is the gods to whom the
soul prays; ~psuchê/~ being object. In either form the freeing of
the soul from the circle is regarded as a grace from the gods.]
[49\10: _fr._ 76. The lines of the _Carm. Aur._ 55 ff. (Nauck, p.
207) are probably modelled on the Orphic ~ou/t' agathou= pareo/ntos
ktl.~ The point is: few are they who trouble about the salvation
that Orpheus (or Pythagoras) brings them; the ~ho/sioi~ are always a
small minority.]
[50\10: _frr._ 208, 226. ~Dio/nusos luseu/s, lu/sios, theoi\
lu/sioi~; see Lob. 809 f. and cf. _fr._ 311 (Ficinus).]
[51\10: ~Orphe/a t' a/nakt' e/chôn ba/kcheue . . . ~ E. _Hp._ 953
(N.B. ~a/nax~ not ~despo/tês~, l. 88).]
[52\10: ~Orphiko\s bi/os~, Pl., _Lg._ 782 C; Lobeck, 244 ff.]
[53\10: The Pythagorean ~e/pou theô=|, akolouthei=n tô=| theô=|~
(Iamb., _VP._ 137, from Aristoxenos) might also have been given to
the Orphics as their motto.]
[54\10: ~a/psuchos bora/~ of the Orphics: E., _Hp._ 952, Pl., _Lg._
782 CD; Lob., p. 246. This, too, is the meaning of Ar., _Ra._ 1032,
~Orpheu\s me\n ga\r teleta/s th' hêmi=n kate/deixe pho/nôn t'
ape/chesthai~, i.e. using slain animals for food. Hor., _AP._ 391
f.: silvestris homines . . . caedibus et victu foedo deterruit
Orpheus means to speak not of the ritual vegetarianism of "Orpheus",
but of the previous cannibalism of men which Orpheus had put an end
to. As this is nowhere else mentioned of Orpheus we might perhaps
regard it as mistaken allusion on the part of Horace to the passage
of Aristoph. quoted above. It is not, however, impossible that
Horace did in fact have in mind some Orphic verse which really
reported something like what he himself says of Orpheus. The Orphic
fragment [247] ap. S.E., _M._ ii, 31; ix, 15 (Lob., p. 246), may
have arisen in the same way; see Maass, _Orpheus_, 77. (The
well-known lines of Kritias [S.E., _M._ ix, 54 _fr._ 25 Di.] and
Moschion, p. 813 Nauck, can hardly have anything to do with Orphism
and should rather be connected with the theories of the Sophists and
Demokritos--followed later by the Epicureans--about the gradual
evolution of human civilization from miserable and savage origins;
and _not_ from a "golden age" of which the Orphics too spoke.)]
[55\10: Prohibition to bury corpses in woollen garments: Hdt. ii, 81
(in each case in order that nothing ~thnêsei/dion~ might cling to the
departed). Prohibition against eating eggs: Lob. 251 (eggs are part
of the offering to the dead and the food of the ~chtho/nioi~, and so
forbidden: so rightly explained by Lob. 477). It was forbidden in
Orphic poetry, as well as Pythagorean, to eat beans: Lob. 251; Nauck
on Iamb., _VP._, p. 231 f.: the reason here, too, being that beans
as part of the offerings to the dead, _putantur ad mortuos
pertinere_ (Fest.); see Lob. 254 and Crusius, _Rh. Mus._ 39, 165.
The same or similar reasons are everywhere at work to cause the
eating of certain foods to be forbidden {358} both by the
Pythagorean ordinances and in the mystical cult of the ~chtho/nioi~:
it is because they are used as offerings to the beings of the lower
world, ~pro\s ta\ peri/deipna kai\ ta\s proklê/seis tô=n nekrô=n~,
or even because they have names which, like ~ere/binthos~ or
~la/thuros~, recall ~e/rebos~ and ~lê/thê~: Plu., _QR._ 95, p. 286
E. The purified state requires above all complete separation from
anything connected with the realm of the dead and the divinities of
the dead.]
[56\10: Cf. _fr._ 208.]
[57\10: The soul is confined within the body (according to those
~amphi\ Orphe/a), hôs di/kên didou/sês tê=s psuchê=s hô=n dê\ he/neka
di/dôsin~, Pl., _Crat._ 400 C. The exact nature of this "guilt" of
the soul is not explained in our remains of Orphic literature. The
point, however, is chiefly that the life within the body is
according to their doctrine not in accordance with but contrary to
the proper nature of the soul.]
[58\10: ~sumpo/sion tô=n hosi/ôn~, Pl., _Rp._ 363 C. ~hosi/ous
mu/stas~, Orph., _H._ 84, 3; see above, chap. vi, n. 18.]
[59\10: ~psucha\s _athana/tas_ kata/gei Kullê/nios Hermê=s gai/ês es
keuthmô=na pelô/rion~ _fr._ 224 (it would be vain to look for an
example of ~atha/natos~ used as adjective to ~psuchê/~ in Homer).
Hermes ~chtho/nios~ leads the souls down into Hades and also upwards
again (to fresh ~ensômatô/seis~): Orph., _H._ 57, 6 ff. (For the
Pythagorean Hermes see D.L. viii, 31.)]
[60\10: Especially in the ~kata/basis eis Ha/idou~ (Lob. 373; cf.
above, chap. vii, n. 3). The descent lay through the chasm at
Tainaron: see above, chap. v, n. 23, and cf. Orph., _Arg._
41.--Other Orphic poems may also have dealt with such matters:
~_polla\_ memutholo/gêtai peri\ tô=n en Ha/idou pragma/tôn tô=| tê=s
Kallio/pês~, Jul., _Or._ vii, p. 281, 3 Hertl. [216 D].]
[61\10: ~lu/seis kai\ katharmoi/~ of the living and even the dead
carried out by Orphic priests: Pl., _Rp_. 364 E. Reward of the
initiated in Hades: cf. the anecdote of Leotychidas II in Plu.,
_Apophth. Lac._, p. 224 E; and of Antisthenes in D.L. vi, 4. Those
who feared the bite of Kerberos or the water-carrying to the leaky
cask (see App. iii) sought protection against such things in
~teletai\ kai\ katharmoi/~: Plu. _N.P.Q. Suav. Epic._ 27, p. 1105 B.
Hope of immortality for the soul rests on the _Dionysiac_ mysteries
acc. to Plu., _Cons. ad Ux._ 10, p. 611 D.]
[62\10: It is significant that the belief in a judgment and
punishment of ~psuchai/~ is based in [Pl.] _Ep._ vii, 335 A not on
popular acceptance or the statements of poets but on ~palaioi/ te
kai\ _hieroi\ lo/goi_~; cf. above, chap. vii, n. 13.]
[63\10: _fr._ 154 (punishment in Hades of those guilty of crimes
against their own parents? _fr._ 281).]
[64\10: See above, chap. vii, n. 15.]
[65\10: ~deina\ perime/nei~: Pl., _Rp._ 365 A; cf. _fr._ 314
(Ficinus).]
[66\10: _fr._ 208 (Rhaps.) ~o/rgia/ t' ektele/sousi (a/nthrôpoi),
_lu/sin progo/nôn athemi/stôn maio/menoi;_ su\~ (sc. Dionysos) ~de\
toi=sin~ (dat. commodi), ~e/chôn kra/tos, hou=s k' ethe/lêstha
lu/seis e/k te po/nôn chalepô=n kai\ apei/ronos oi/strou~ (of
continual rebirth). That this belief in the efficacy of prayers for
the "poor souls of the departed" belonged to the earlier stratum of
Orphism follows from Pl., _Rp._ 364 BC, E, 365 A, where he speaks of
~lu/seis te kai\ katharmoi/~ of the Orphics which promised to
deliver living _and dead_ from the ~adikê/mata autou= ê\
_progo/nôn_~. (It has been wrongly attempted to fasten the same
belief on Plato himself, in the Phaedo.)--For Gnostic and early
Christian ideas of the same kind see Anrich, _D. Ant.
Mysterienwesen_, 87, 4; 120 n. But even in the Rigveda (7, 35, 4) we
may find the thought that the "pious works of the pious" can help
others to salvation (Oldenberg, _Rel. d._ {359} _Veda_, 289).
Religious pietism seems to produce the same effects everywhere.]
[67\10: ~polloi\ me\n narthêkopho/roi ktl.~ was an _Orphic_ verse.
Lob. 809, 813.]
[68\10: _fr._ 154.]
[69\10: ~ho kekatharme/nos te kai\ tetelesme/nos ekei=se (eis
Ha/idou) aphiko/menos meta\ theô=n oikê/sei~, _fr._ 228 (Pl.).]
[70\10: ~sumpo/sion tô=n hosi/ôn~ in Hades, ~me/thê aiô/nios~ their
reward: Pl., _Rp._ 336 CD (cf. Dieterich, _Nekyia_, 80 n.). Plato
there mentions Mousaios and his son (Eumolpos) as authorities for
these promises and contrasts with them, by a ~hoi de/~, others who
made different promises; perhaps referring to other Orphic poems
(cf. _fr._ 227). But Mousaios, himself always closely connected in
Plato with Orpheus (_Rp._ 364 E, _Prot._ 316 D, _Ap._ 41 A, _Ion_,
536 B), here simply means "Orphic poetry". A literature of
essentially Orphic character went under his name. So Plu., _Comp.
Cim. et Luc._ 1 seems right in substituting simply ~to\n Orphe/a~
for the ~Mousai=os~ named in Pl.]
[71\10: Pl., _Lg._ 870 DE; then in more detail for a special case
but derived from same source: ~no/mô| . . . tô=| nu=n dê/~ (i.e. in
870 DE) ~lechthe/nti~ 872 DE, 873 A.--The idea of such a
religio-juridical _talio_ was popular also in Greece: see below
(chap. xi, n. 44). Frequently for instance in curses of vengeance
the wish is that the doer may suffer exactly the same thing as that
which he has done to his victim. Exx. from Soph. (best is _Tr._ 1039
f.) given by G. Wolff in S., _Aias_, 839; cf. A., _Cho._ 309 ff.,
_Ag._ 1430.--As a Neoplatonic idea: Plot. 3, 2, 13; Porph. and Iamb.
ap. Aen. Gaz., _Theophr._, p. 18 B.]
[72\10: We may, however, suppose that the ideas of the Orphics
corresponded with the statements of Empedokles, Plato, etc., about
the series of births.]
[73\10: ~sô=ma--sê=ma~ is Orphic: Pl., _Crat._ 400 C.]
[74\10: Complete escape from the world of birth and death is
distinctly anticipated for the pious Orphic in _fr._ 226, ~ku/klon
te lê=xai ktl.~ The other and positive side completing this negative
promise is not clearly supplied for us by any fragment. (We never
even hear distinctly of the return of the individual soul to the one
Soul of the World; though certain Orphic myths--probably of late
origin--seem to suggest such a doctrine of Emanation and final
Remanation.)]
[75\10: _frr._ 1, 81. The moon was regarded as inhabited, like the
world, by Pythagoreans too (esp. Philolaos) and also by Anaxagoras.]
[76\10: This at least was the belief of Pythagoreans and later of
Platonics: see _Griech. Roman_, 269; Wyttenb. on Eun. _VS._ 117. But
the idea occurs as early as in the _Ti._ of Plato, esp. in 42 B. It
may have been long familiar to Greek popular belief (as to other
peoples; cf. Tylor, ii, 70), and reached Orphics from that source.
(Similar though not quite the same is the popular belief ~hôs
aste/res gigno/meth' ho/tan tis apotha/nê|~, Ar., _Pa._ 833 f.,
which the Greeks shared with all the nations of the earth: cf.
"Pythagoras" ap. _Comm. Bern. in Lucan_, 9, 9.)--No opinion can be
built upon the statement of Ficinus (_fr._ 321).]
[77\10: Orphic poetry must have varied in its account of what
happened to the dismembered limbs of Zagreus-Dionysos. That the
Titans tore the god limb from limb seems to have been common to all
versions of the Theogonic poem (see nn. 28, 41; p. 341). But whereas
according to one account the Titans then devoured the god (except
the heart) and from the mixed Titanic and Dionysiac elements of
their bodies after they had been destroyed by lightning the race of
men had its origin (p. 341); according to others the mangled limbs
{360} of the god were brought by Zeus to Apollo who buried them
taking them "on to Parnasos", i.e. at Delphi: see Orph. _fr._ 200
(Clem. Al.) and so, too, Callim. _fr._ 374. The Rhapsodiai gave the
first version in detail, but also preserved an account resembling
the second (see _frr._ 203, 204: the ~heni/zein ta\ meristhe/nta
tou= Dionu/sou me/lê~ there refers probably to the reunion of the
collected limbs for the purpose of burial and not for the
restoration of the dead god to life. This is also possibly the
meaning of the ~Dionu/sou melô=n kollê/seis~ in Jul., _Chr._, p.
167, 7 Neum. But Or., _Cels._ 4, 17, p. 21 Lom., speaks of the
_reanimation_ of Dionysos ~suntitheme/nou~ after the dismemberment).
This second account, where it occurs alone, of course excludes the
_Anthropogony_ from the Titans' ashes. The second version
unmistakably connects itself with the Delphic legend of the grave of
Dionysos at the foot of Apollo's tripod (see above, pp. 97 f.) as K.
O. Müller observed, _Introd. Scient. Myth._ 242. It does, in fact,
accord in this instance, but apart from this it has no connexion
whatever with the real Delphic legend about the disappearance of
Dionysos into the underworld and his periodic return to this world.
(See above, chap. viii, n. 28. The Orphic and Delphic legends are
elaborately compared and worked in together as though they were
separate fragments of a single whole in Lübbert's book, _de Pindaro
theologiae Orph. censore_: Ind. Sch. Bonn. Lib. 1888, p. xiii
f.--with shocking results and no intrinsic justification.) Whether
this second version was the one put forward by Onomakritos is
uncertain. In any case, both accounts are much older than the
Rhapsodiai, in which, it appears, they were included side by side
and superficially harmonized (--only the limbs of the god _not_
devoured by the Titans being buried acc. to this version). Besides
these two versions there may have been another Anthropogony
differing from that given in the first account: the existence of
something of the kind is perhaps to be deduced from what the
Rhapsodiai themselves have to tell about the golden and silver
generations of mankind (see above, n. 41).]
[78\10: Of the Thracian Mysoi ~le/gei ho _Poseidô/nios_ kai\
empsu/chôn ape/chesthai~ (which Pythagoras is said to have learnt
from Zalmoxis, Str. 298) ~kat' euse/beian, dia\ de\ tou=to kai\
thremma/tôn; me/liti de\ chrê=sthai kai\ ga/lakti kai\ turô=|,
zô=ntas kath' hêsuchi/an; dia\ de\ tou=to kalei=sthai theosebei=s te
kai\ kapnoba/tas~ (perh. ~kapnobo/tas~ acc. to an ancient
conjecture). ~ei=nai de/ tinas tô=n Thra|kô=n hoi\ chôri\s gunaiko\s
zô=sin, hou\s kti/stas kalei=sthai, anierô=sthai/ te dia\ timê\v
kai\ met' adei/as zê=n~, Str. 296. The _religious_ character of this
asceticism is seen in the words ~kat' euse/beian~ and the name
~theosebei=s~; also in the word ~anierô=sthai~, which are all used
of the ~kti/stai~ as of a monastic order. Jos., _AJ._ 18, 1, 5, says
of the Essenes ~zô=si d' oude\n parêllagme/nôs all' ho/ti ma/lista
emphe/rontes Dakô=n~ (i.e. ~Thra|kô=n, Getô=n~: _Getae, Daci Romanis
dicti_, Plin., _NH._ iv, 80) ~toi=s polistai=s kaloume/nois~. In any
case the same Thracian ascetics are meant whom Poseidonios
(literally translating a Thracian word) calls the ~kti/stai~. Thus,
they are said like the Essence to live without women, eat no meat,
and in the practice of various other asceticisms live together and
have all things in common.--It cannot be certainly decided how old
this Thracian asceticism was, its exact connexion with Dionysiac
religion, and whether it could or did give any impulse in the
direction of asceticism to the Orphics. (Following Hom., ~N~ 4 ff.,
many told similar stories of the nomadic Skythoi: see Ephor., _frr._
76, 78; or of the fabulous Argimpaioi, Hdt. iv, 23; Znb., _Pr._ 5,
25, p. 129, 1, etc. _Griech. Roman_, 203.--~apochê\ empsu/chôn~
occurred also among the Atlantes and certain Indian races: Hdt. iv,
184; iii, 100.)] {361}
[79\10: ii, 123. His words make it plain that the _Greek_ teachers
of transmigration of souls whom he has in mind (Pherekydes,
Pythagoras, Orphics, Empedokles) had no idea of the Egyptian origin
of that doctrine (_Rh. Mus._ 26, 556, 1).]
[80\10: The Egyptian monuments show no knowledge of a general
transmigration of souls, due to a law of nature or the decree of the
gods. We can see very well, however, what it was in Egyptian
traditions that might seem like a doctrine of transmigration to
Herodotos (cf. Wiedemann, **_Erläut. zu Herodots 2. B._ p. 457 f.).]
[81\10: It is sufficient to refer to Tylor's collections: ii, 3
ff.--In antiquity the Greeks met with a doctrine of Transmigration,
apart from Thrace, among the Keltic races (Caes., _BG._ 6, 14, 5;
D.S. 5, 28, 6; cf. Timagenes ap. Amm. Marc. 15, 9, 8). This was the
sole reason why Pythagoras was made the pupil of the Gallic Druids:
Alex. Polyh. ap. Clem. Al., _Str._ i, p. 355/6 P., etc.]
[82\10: That it was not unnatural for the Greeks also to have the
conception of the migration of the soul from its first body to some
other suitable second or third body (entry of ~tê=s tuchou/sês
psuchê=s eis to\ tucho\n sô=ma~ acc. to Arist.) may be seen from the
fact that in Greek popular tales of the transformation of men into
beasts the idea regularly prevails that while the body changes in
such cases the "soul" remains the same as before. Thus, explicitly
in Hom. ~k~ 240 (cf. Sch. there and 329); cf. also Ov., _M._ ii,
485; Nonn., _D._ v, 322 f.; Aesop., _F._ 294 (Halm): [Luc.] _Asin._
13, 15 init.; Apul., _M._ iii, 26 init; Aug., _CD._ 18, 18, p. 278,
11 ff. Domb., etc. (In all transformation stories this is regularly
implied and gives the point to the story.) This is true from the
earliest times onward, down to Voltaire's muleteer who was turned
into a mule et du vilain l'âme terrestre et crasse à peine vit
qu'elle eut changé de place.)--The beasts also have a ~psuchê/~:
e.g. ~x~ 426.]
[83\10: Brahmins, Buddhists, Manichaean, etc.]
[84\10: A fixed term for "transmigration of souls" does not seem to
have been offered by Orphic teaching. It was later called
~paliggenesi/a~ (a term which did not exactly fit the real meaning
of the idea: this seems to have been its oldest name (cf. ~hai
psuchai\ _pa/lin gi/gnontai_ hek tô=n tethneô/tôn~, Pl., _Phd._ 70
C), and remained its most ceremonious one. "_Pythagoras_" _non_
~metempsu/chôsin~ _sed_ ~paliggenesi/an~ _esse dicit_: Serv., _A._
iii, 68. ~metensôma/tôsis~, is not uncommon (frequent in Hippol.,
_RH._, p. 12, 53 D.-S.; 266, etc.). The word most commonly used
among ourselves, ~metempsu/chôsis~, is among the Greeks precisely
the least usual; it occurs e.g. in D.S. 10, 6, 1; Gal. iv, 763 K.;
Tertul. _de An._ 31; Serv., _A._ vi, 532; 603; Suid. s.v.
~Phereku/dês~. ~metempsuchou=sthai~ occurs in Sch., A.R. i, 645.]
{{362}}
CHAPTER XI
THE PHILOSOPHERS
The Orphic teaching, in which a protracted movement of religion in
Greece reached comprehensive expression, might seem almost an
anachronism, appearing as it did in an age when a religious
interpretation of the world and of mankind was hardly any longer
admissible. Eastwards, on the coasts of Ionia, a new view of the
world had arisen which, like a youth that has come of age, demanded
the right to pursue its course without any guidance from traditional
beliefs. The Ionic maritime cities were the meeting-place of all the
collected wisdom and experience of mankind; and there all the more
serious knowledge and study--both indigenous and of foreign
origin--of "Nature", the earth, and the heavenly bodies, was
gathered together in the intelligence of those ever-memorable
spirits who at that time were laying the foundations of natural
science, and of all science in general. This knowledge was now
attempting to turn itself into an organized and all-embracing whole.
Observation and constructive study combined with an imaginative
vision to hazard a picture of the world and reality as a whole.
Because it was impossible anywhere in this world to find anything
completely and for ever fixed and dead, speculation inevitably
pressed forward to the discovery of the undying source of Life, that
perpetually fills, moves, and rebuilds this whole, and of the laws
according to which it works and necessarily must work.
This was the direction pursued by these earliest pioneers of
philosophy; and they pursued it unhampered by any subservience to
mythical or religious modes of thought. Where mythology and the
theology founded upon it saw a complete history of cosmic events
each one of which was the result of the separate and unique action
of divine personalities endowed with consciousness and the power of
arbitrary choice--there the philosopher saw the play of everlasting
forces which could not be completely resolved into the single events
of any historical process, for, without beginning or end they had
been ever in action, tirelessly fulfilling themselves in accordance
with unchanging laws. In such a universe there seemed {363} to be
little room left for divine figures created by man after his own
image, and worshipped by him as the guiding and supreme powers of
the world. And in fact, the foundations were now laid of that
tremendous structure of free inquiry, which finally succeeded in
weaving out of its treasure new worlds of thought, where even those
who had quarrelled or were dissatisfied with the old religion (now
inwardly falling into decay for all its outward appearance of being
at the most brilliant zenith of its powers) might yet find a refuge
if they would not fall back upon sheer nothingness.
And yet Greece never saw a thorough-going opposition and conscious
quarrel between science and religion. In a few special cases the
religion of the state was forced to recognize its incompatibility
with the openly expressed opinions of individual philosophers, and
took steps to make its claims to universal supremacy respected. But
for the most part, the two streams of influence flowed on side by
side for centuries without ever coming into hostile contact. The
propagandist temper was completely absent from philosophy from the
very beginning. (Even when it appeared later as among the Cynics it
produced very little effect on the supremacy of the state religion.)
Religion on its side was not represented by any priestly caste which
might have been led to take up arms for religion and for what it
believed to be its own interest alike. Theoretic contradictions
might the more easily remain unobserved when religion depended so
little upon fixed dogma or upon a world-embracing whole of opinions
and doctrines; while Theology, wherever it accompanied the worship
of the gods (~euse/beia~), which was the real core of religion, was,
just as much as philosophy, the business of individuals and their
adherents gathered together outside the limits of the official
religion of the state. Philosophy (except in a few special and
unrepresentative cases) never sought open war with religion--not
even with the weakened and diluted religion of the masses. In fact
the juxtaposition of philosophy and religion (with theology itself
by their side) sometimes went beyond the external conditions of the
time, and affected the private intellectual life of certain
thinkers. It might seem as if religion and philosophy were not
merely different but dealt with different provinces of reality, and
thus even strict and philosophically minded thinkers could honestly
and without imagining disloyalty to philosophy, adopt particular and
even fundamental conceptions from the creed of their fathers, and
allow them to grow up side by side and at peace with their own
purely philosophical ideas. {364}
§ 2
What the Ionic philosophers in connexion with the rest of their
cosmology had to say about the soul of man did not for all its
striking novelty bring them into direct conflict with religious
opinion. Philosophy and religion used the same words to denote
totally different things; it could surprise no one if different
things were said about quite different objects.
According to the popular view, which finds expression in Homer, and
with which, in spite of their very different estimate of the
relative values of body and soul, the religious theory of the
Orphics and other _theologi_ also agreed--according to this view the
"psyche" was regarded as a unique creature of combined spiritual and
material nature that, wherever it may have come from, now dwells
within man and there, as his second self, carries on its separate
existence, making itself felt when the visible self loses
consciousness in dream, swoon, or ecstasy (see above, pp. 6 f.). In
the same way, the moon and the stars become visible when no longer
obscured by the brighter light of the sun. It was already implied in
the conception itself that this double of mankind, which could be
detached from him temporarily, had a separate existence of its own;
it was no very great step from this to the idea that in death, which
is simply the permanent separation of the visible man from the
invisible, the latter did not perish, but only then became free and
able to live by and for itself.
This spiritual being and the obscure manifestations of its existence
in the living man, did not attract the observation of the Ionian
philosophers. Their thoughts were all for the universe as a whole;
they looked for the "origins" (~archai/~) of all that is and
becomes; for the simple elements of multifarious appearance and for
the force which turns the simple into the multifarious while
controlling, moving, and giving life to primeval matter. The power
of life, the force which can set in motion both itself and all else
that without it would be fixed and motionless--this force penetrates
all being; where it manifests itself most strikingly in separate
individual beings, there it is what these philosophers call the
"psyche".
Thought of in this way, the psyche is something quite different from
the old psyche of popular belief, idly observing the life and
activities of its body, as of some stranger, concentrated in itself,
and pursuing its own secret, hidden life. And yet the name given to
these very different concepts remained the same. The application of
the word "psyche" {365} to the power which gives life and movement
to the visible body--man's power of life--might have been suggested
to the philosophers by a manner of expression which, though in the
strict sense of the words conflicting with Homeric conceptions, is
occasionally observable in the Homeric poems, and seems to have
become more and more frequent in late times.[1\11] In more exact
language, the "psyche" of these philosophers is a collective
expression for all the powers of thought, desire, and will (~no/os,
me/nos, mê=tis, boulê/~), and especially for the functions denoted
by the untranslatable word ~thumo/s~--powers which according to the
Homeric and popular partition all belong entirely to the side of the
visible man and his body.[2\11] According to that view, they are all
expressions of the body's natural powers of life--though they cannot
indeed be awakened to real life before the arrival of the
"psyche"--and in Homeric usage are almost the exact opposite of the
"psyche", for they perish at death, while the psyche leaves them
behind to wander about in its separate shadow-life.
But the soul, according to the view of the physiologists, has quite
a different relation to the totality of life and living, and differs
in this respect both from the Homeric psyche and the Homeric
~thumo/s~. The same force which manifests itself so strongly, as
though specially concentrated there, in the psyche of man, works and
rules in all matter as the general source of life that creates and
preserves the world. Thus, the psyche loses the special singularity
that distinguished it from all the other things and substances in
the world, and made it incomparable and unique. Later reporters are
wrong in attributing to these Ionic thinkers (for whom vital power
and material substance seemed immediately and indissolubly united)
the conception of a separate, independent "World-Soul". Not as
emanations from a single Soul of the World did they conceive the
separate souls of men; but neither did they conceive them as simply
independent, unique, and entirely incomparable essences. They are
expressions of that force which everywhere in all the phenomena of
the world produces life and is itself _life_. Attributing spiritual
qualities to the primeval source of things, the physiology of the
"Hylozoists" naturally could not assume any profound distinction
between that source and the "soul". Deprived in this way of its
separateness, the soul acquired a new importance in exchange; in
another sense from that of the mystics and theologians it could
still be thought of as something divine, for it was a participator
in the one Force which builds and rules the world. It is not the
abode of a single daimonic {366} nature, but instead, the very
nature of god is alive within it.
The closer its inward connexion with the universal Whole the less,
of course, will the soul be able to preserve its individual
existence, which was only lent to it while it gave life and movement
to the body, when that body, the sign and support of its
separateness, is overtaken by death. These earliest philosophers
whose view was almost entirely concentrated on the broad outlines of
the life of nature as a whole, would hardly have regarded it as part
of their task to formulate a deliberate opinion about the fate of
the puny individual soul after the death of its body. In no case
could they have spoken of an _immortality_ of the soul in the same
sense as did the mystics who regarded the soul of which they spoke
as something which has entered from without into material existence,
and as a spiritual essence quite distinct from everything material.
The latter were thus able to attribute to the psyche a capacity for
separate and continued existence which was inadmissible in the case
of a force of movement and sensation completely inhering in matter
and in the shaping of matter. And it was such a force which the
physiologists called the soul.
Ancient tradition, nevertheless, asserts that Thales of Miletos,
whose genius first began the philosophic study of nature, was the
first "to call the soul (of man) immortal".[3\11] But Thales, who
recognized a "soul" also in magnets and plants,[4\11] and thought of
the material stuff and the motive force of the "soul" as
inseparable, can only have spoken of the "immortality" of the human
soul in the same sense as he might have spoken of the immortality of
all "soul-forces" in nature. Like the primal Matter which works and
creates by reason of its own natural powers of life, so, too, the
universal Force which permeates it[5\11] is imperishable and
indestructible, as it is uncreated. It is entirely and essentially
alive and can never be "dead".
Anaximander said of the "Unlimited" from which all things have been
developed by separation, and by which all things are enveloped and
directed, that it never grows old, but is immortal and
imperishable.[6\11] This cannot be intended to apply to the human
soul as a separate existence; for like all separate creations out of
the "Unlimited" it must "in the order of the time" pay the penalty
for the "offence" of its separate existence,[7\11] and lose itself
again in the one primordial matter.
Nor could the third in this series--Anaximenes of Miletos--have
differed seriously from Thales in the sense in which {367} he spoke
of the soul as "immortal"; for him it was of the same nature[8\11]
as the one divine[9\11] primal element of Air that is eternally in
movement and produces all things out of itself.
§ 3
In the teaching of Herakleitos of Ephesos the living power of the
primal essence--the one[10\11] and universal, out of which arises
through change the many and the particular, which manifests itself
in the union, regarded as indissoluble, of matter and motive
force--received even greater prominence than with the older Ionians.
By them matter itself--described as either limited or not limited in
reference to one particular quality--is regarded as self-evidently
in motion. For Herakleitos the origin of all multiplicity lies
rather in the creative energy of absolute Life itself which is at
the same time a definite material substance or analogous to one of
the known substances. The idea of _life_, and that form of it which
makes its appearance in man, must have been more important for him
than for any of his predecessors.
This never-resting force and activity of becoming that has neither
beginning nor end, is represented by the Hot and Dry and called by
the name of that elementary condition which cannot be thought of as
ceasing to move, namely, Fire. The ever-living (~aei/zôon~) fire,
which periodically kindles itself and periodically goes out
(Bywater, _fr._ 20), is formed entirely of movement and livingness.
Living belongs to everything; but living is becoming, changing,
becoming something different without cessation. Every appearance
brings forth from itself, at the moment of its appearance, the
opposite of itself. Birth, life, and death, and fresh birth clash
together in a single burning moment, like the lightning (_fr._ 28).
That which thus moves itself in unceasing vitality and has all its
being in becoming; which perpetually changes and "in
backward-straining effort" finds itself again--this is something
endowed with reason, creative in accordance with reason and "art";
is Reason (~lo/gos~) itself. In creating the world it loses itself
in the elements; it suffers its "death" (_frr._ 66, 67) when in the
"Way downwards" it becomes water and earth (_fr._ 21). There are
degrees of value in the elements decided by the relation which they
hold towards the moving and self-vivifying fire. But that which in
the multiplicity of the phenomena in the world, yet preserves its
godlike fiery nature--this is for Herakleitos "psyche". Psyche is
fire.[11\11] Fire and psyche are interchangeable terms.[12\11] And
so, too, the psyche of man is fire, a part of the universal fiery
{368} energy that surrounds it and upholds it, through the
"inhalation" of which it maintains itself alive;[13\11] a portion of
the World-Reason by participation in which it is itself rational. In
men God is living.[14\11] But god does not descend into man, as in
the teaching of the Theologians, entering as a finite individuality
into the vessel of the individual human life. As a united whole he
surrounds men with his flood and reaches after and into them, as
though with fiery tongues. A portion[15\11] of his universal Wisdom
is living in the soul of man: the "drier", more fiery, nearer to the
universal Fire and further from the less living elements he is, the
wiser will he be (_frr._ 74, 75, 76). If he sundered himself from
the universal wisdom, man would become nothing; it is his business
in thinking, as in acting and in moral behaviour, to surrender
himself to the One Living essence that "nourishes" him and is the
Mind and Law of the world (_frr._ 91, 92, 100, 103).
But the soul itself is also a portion of the universal Fire that in
the perpetual variation of its form of being has been encompassed by
the body and become entangled in corporeality. Here we no longer
have the rigid, unmediated contrast between "Body" and "Soul" such
as it appeared from the standpoint of the theologian. The elements
of the body, water and earth, have themselves arisen and perpetually
arise out of the fire which changes into all other things, and into
which everything else changes (_fr._ 22). So it is the soul itself,
the creative fire, which _creates_ the body. "Soul," i.e. Fire,
unceasingly turns itself into the lower elements; there is no
contrast between them, and it is but a continual flux of transition.
While it is enclosed in the body the soul is still affected by
unceasing change. In this it is like everything else. Nothing in the
world can for a single moment preserve the parts which compose it
unaltered; the perpetual movement and alteration of its being
constitute its life. The sun itself, the greatest fire-body, becomes
another sun every day (_fr._ 32). So, too, the soul, though distinct
from the body and a self-existing substance, yet is a substance that
never remains like itself. In unceasing alteration of its material
substance, its contents are perpetually being transposed. It loses
its fire of life in the lower elements; it absorbs fresh fire from
the living Fire of the universe that surrounds it. There can be no
question of the permanent identity of the soul, of the spiritual
personality, with itself. What in the unbroken process of upward and
downward straining seems to maintain itself as a single person, is
in reality a series of souls and {369} personalities, one taking the
place of another and ousting and being ousted in turn.
Thus, even while it is in life, the soul is perpetually dying--but
to live again; ever supplementing the departing soul-life or
supplying its place with another. So long as it can recruit itself
from the surrounding World-Fire, so long the individual lives.
Separation from the source of all life, the living and universal
fire of the world, would be death for it. The soul may temporarily
lose its life-giving contact with the "common world": this happens
in sleep and dreaming which enclose it in their own world (_frr._
94, 95), and this is already a partial death to it. Sometimes, too,
the soul has a tendency to transform itself to a humidity not always
made good by fresh fire; the drunkard has a "moist soul" (_fr._ 73).
Finally, there comes the moment when the soul of man cannot any
longer repair the loss of the living fire which is taken from it in
the perpetual alteration of its matter. Then it dies; death carries
off the last of the series of living fires which in their continuity
made up the human soul.[16\11]
But in Herakleitos' world there is no such thing as death in the
absolute sense--an end followed by no beginning, an unconditional
cessation of becoming. "Death" is for him only a point where one
condition of things gives way to another; a relative "not-being",
involving death for one but simultaneously bringing birth and life
for another (_frr._ 25, [64], 66, 67). Death, just as much as life,
is for him a positive thing. "Fire lives the death of earth, and air
lives the death of fire; water lives the death of air, and earth the
death of water" (_fr._ 25). The One that is in all things is at once
dead and alive (_fr._ 78), immortal and mortal (_fr._ 67); a
perpetual "death and becoming" agitates it. So, too, the "death" of
man must be the exit from one positive state of things, and the
entry into another, also positive, condition. Death occurs for man
when the "soul" is no longer within him. Only the body is then left;
alone and by itself it is no better than dung (_fr._ 85). But the
soul--what becomes of that? It must have altered; it was fire, but
now it has descended on the "Way downwards" and become water--to
become earth after that. So it must happen to all fire. In death the
fire in man "goes out" (_fr._ 77). "It is death for the souls to
become water" says Herakleitos clearly enough (_fr._ 68).[17\11] The
soul must tread this path at last, and treads it willingly; change
is for the soul its delight and refreshment (_fr._ 83). The soul has
then changed itself into the elements of the body, has lost itself
in the body. {370}
But it cannot rest permanently in this transformation. "For the
souls it is death to become water; for the water it is death to
become earth. And yet from earth comes water; and from water, soul"
(_fr._ 68). Thus, in the restless up and down of becoming, in the
"Way upwards" the soul reconstitutes itself out of the lower
elements. But not _that_ soul which had formerly animated the
particular individual and of whose complete self-identity in the
midst of the influx of the Fire-spirit there could be no question
even during the life of the body. The inquiry after an individual
immortality or even a continued existence of the separate soul could
hardly have had any meaning at all for Herakleitos. Nor can he have
admitted it under the form of the "transmigration of the
soul".[18\11] It is quite certain that Herakleitos can never have
distinctly asserted the changeless persistence of the individual
human soul in the midst of the unbroken stream of becoming in which
all fixity is nothing but an illusion of the senses. But it is also
incredible that, in despite of his own fundamental principles, he
even admitted the possibility of this popular view with an
indulgence quite foreign to his nature.[19\11] What could have
tempted him to do so? We are told[20\11] that it was from the
mysteries that he adopted this opinion which was one of their most
important doctrines. Herakleitos, however, only casts an occasional
glance at the mysteries and what might be called their "doctrine"
(just as he glanced at other prominent manifestations of the excited
religious life of his time[21\11]); and he does so in order to
harmonize their teaching with his own--a result which he achieves
rather by imposing an interpretation than by patiently eliciting
one. He demonstrates that the mysteries might be harmonized with his
own doctrine,[22\11] which seemed to him able to explain all the
phenomena of the world; that contrariwise he ever sought to set his
own teaching in harmony with that of the mysteries, or that the
latter had shown him the way to his thought, or could ever have
tempted him to set foot outside his own self-chosen path--of this
there is not a scrap of evidence to be had.
The individual in its isolation has, for Herakleitos, neither value
nor importance: to persist in this isolation (if it had been
possible would have seemed to him a crime.[23\11] The Fire is for
him indestructible and immortal as a totality, not as divided into
individual particles, but only as the one Universal Mind that
transforms itself into all things and draws all things back again
into itself. The soul of man has a claim to immortality as an
emanation of this universal Reason, {371} and shares the immortality
which belongs to it. So, too, the soul, even when it has lost itself
in the elements, finds itself again. Between "want" and
"satisfaction" (_frr._ 24, 36), this process of becoming has its
perpetual being. A day will come when the Fire will "overtake"
everything (_fr._ 26); God will then be utterly by himself--all in
all. But that is not the purpose of this world; here change,
becoming and passing away will never end. Nor should they end; the
"Strife" (_fr._ 43) which has created the world, and ever fashions
it anew, is the most inward nature of the All-living which it
perpetually stirs to insatiable desire of becoming. For the desire
and refreshment of all things is Change (_frr._ 72, 83), the coming
and going in the interplay of Becoming.
It is the precise opposite of a quietistic mood that speaks from the
whole teaching of Herakleitos. His voice is a trumpet call that
grows louder and louder as his lofty and majestic spirit with
ever-increasing intensity proclaims prophet-like the last word of
wisdom. He knows well that it is only labour that can give meaning
to rest, and hunger to satisfaction; only sickness can call forth
the desire of health (_fr._ 104). That is the law of the world which
binds together the opposing contraries, each of which is engendered
from the last, with an inward and complete necessity. He bows before
it and assents to it. For him the fixity of the soul in a
Blessedness that was without activity and without change--even if
such were thinkable[24\11]--would not have seemed a possible goal of
desire.
§ 4
Even before the days of Herakleitos the torch of philosophic inquiry
had been borne from the coasts of Ionia to the West by Xenophanes of
Kolophon who in a life of adventure had wandered as far as Southern
Italy and Sicily. For his fiery temperament the most subtle
reflection was turned into life and experience, and the one enduring
source of Being to which he ever directed his gaze became the
universal Divinity that is all perception and thought, that
tirelessly embraces all things in its thought and intelligence, and,
without beginning or end, perpetually remains the same with itself.
What Xenophanes had to say about this God which for him is the same
as the world, became the basis for the elaborated doctrine of the
Eleatic school which, in declared opposition to Herakleitos,[25\11]
denied all possibility of movement, becoming, alteration, division
of the One into Many, to the one absolute Being that completely and
entirely occupies Space, is raised {372} above all development,
whether temporal or spatial, and remains perpetually enclosed in
itself in absolute self-sufficiency.
For this view the whole multiplicity of things that presses itself
upon sense-perception is an _illusion_. Deceptive also is the
apparent existence of a multiplicity of animated beings, just as the
whole of nature is an illusion. It was not "Nature", the content of
actual experience, that provided the starting-point of the
philosophy of Parmenides. Without any assistance from experience,
simply by the pure logical deductions to be made from a single
fundamental concept (that of "Being"), which was to be grasped only
by the understanding, this philosophy claimed to arrive at the whole
content of its teaching. For the philosophic scientists of Ionia the
soul also had been a part of nature and the science of the soul a
department of the science of nature; and this inclusion of the
psychical within the physical was the peculiarity in their doctrine
of the soul which distinguished it from the ordinary popular
psychology. When, however, the whole of Nature was to be ruled out
of account as a subject of scientific knowledge, the derivation of
psychology from physiology had to be given up as well. These
_aphysici_[26\11] were logically debarred from holding any doctrine
of the soul.
With a complaisance that is remarkable in view of the uncompromising
logical vigour with which they deduced their main theory and based
it on abstract, super-sensual knowledge, the Eleatics conceded so
much at least to the region of appearance and the pressure of
sense-perception that, although they did not deduce from their own
fundamental conceptions a physical theory of multifarious appearance
and its development, yet, side by side with their rigid doctrine of
being, in unjustified and unjustifiable relation with it, they did
in fact put forward such a theory. Xenophanes, himself, had already
in the same way offered a physical theory of limited and relative
validity. Parmenides in the second part of his doctrinal poem,
developed, "in deceptive adornment of words," not an authoritative
statement of the true nature of being, but "human opinions" of
becoming and creation in the world of multiplicity. This, too, must
be the standpoint of the physiological doctrines put forward by Zeno
of Elea, the boldest dialectician who upheld the doctrine of the
motionless All-One. In the course of such a physiology, and with the
same implied reservations, the Eleatic philosophers dealt also with
the nature and origin of the soul. Their physical doctrine was
framed entirely on the lines of the older type of {373} natural
philosophy, and they regarded the relation of the spiritual to the
corporeal from exactly the same point of view as their predecessors
had done. For Parmenides (146 ff, Mull. = _fr._ 16 Diels) the mind
(~no/os~) of man depends for its existence upon the mixture of two
ingredients of which everything, including its body, is composed.
These ingredients are the "Light" and the "Night" (the Warm and the
Cold, Fire and Earth). What is intellectually active is, even in
mankind, the "nature of his limbs"; the character of his thought is
determined by the one of the two elements which preponderates in the
individual. Even the dead man (because he still has a body) has
feeling and sensation; but these powers are deserted by the warm and
the fiery and given over to the cold, the dark, and silence. All
that is has some capacity of knowledge.[27\11]--It would be
impossible to condemn the "soul" to corporeality more completely
than is here done by the bold philosopher of abstract Reason, who at
the same time denied so unconditionally all validity to
sense-perception. The soul is evidently no longer an independent
substance but a mere resultant of material mixture, a function of
elements in composition. For Zeno, too, the "soul" in the same way
was an exactly equal mixture of the four elementary properties of
matter, the Warm, the Cold, the Dry, and the Wet.[28\11]
It is, therefore, startling, in the face of these utterances, to
find that Parmenides also said about the "soul" that the deity that
rules the world "at one time, sends it out of the Invisible into the
Visible, and at another time back again".[29\11] Here, the soul is
no longer a condition arising from the mixture of material elements,
but an independent being credited with pre-existence before its
entry into the "Visible", i.e. before its entry into the life of the
body, and also with a continued existence after its separation from
the realm of visibility--and indeed, with a sojourn, several times
repeated, in those two worlds. Did Parmenides distinguish between
this independently existing soul and the being that perceives in the
mixture of the elements and as mind (~no/os~) thinks, but whose
existence is bound up with the elements and the body they together
compose? It is obvious at any rate that in what he says of the
psyche, and its alternate life in the visible and the invisible,
Parmenides is not speaking as a physiologist, but as an adherent of
the Orphic-Pythagorean theosophy. While reserving for himself his
knowledge of "Truth" and unalterable Being, he could select as he
liked among the "opinions of men" when speaking only hypothetically.
In his doctrine as a practical teacher with an ethical purpose {374}
in view he preferred to adopt the conceptions of the Pythagoreans
with whom he lived in close association.[30\11]
§ 5
Ionic physiology had fixed its attention on Nature as a whole, and
on the phenomena of life displayed in every nook and corner of the
universe; man, as a mere ripple on the surface of the ocean of
becoming and taking form, was almost entirely neglected. A
philosophy that made it its main effort to learn the nature of man,
and, still further, with the knowledge so acquired, to show man the
way and purpose of his living, had to try other paths.
This is what Pythagoras of Samos did. What he called his
"Philosophy"[31\11] was in essence a practical effort. Plato[32\11]
tells us that Pythagoras was so peculiarly honoured because he
discovered a special mode of directing one's life. A distinct way of
living, formed on a religious and ethical basis, was his creation.
How far his "polymathy",[33\11] which indubitably contained already
the substance of Pythagorean science, may have become a system in
his hands, is not distinctly known. What is certain is that in
Kroton he formed a society which, together with the strict rules in
accordance with which he organized their manner of life for his
associates, eventually spread far and wide among the Achæan and
Dorian cities of the Italian "great Greece". In this society a
profound conception of human life and its purposes was given
practical and visible application, and to have brought this about
must be regarded as the act and the special service of Pythagoras.
The fundamental conception of this way of life, except in so far as
it may have contained from the beginning a mystic philosophy of
numbers, was by no means the special invention of Pythagoras; the
new and potent feature which he introduced was the force of
personality which was able to give life and body to the ideal. What
was apparently lacking in similar movements in ancient Greece was
now provided by a great man who for his followers was a pattern and
an example, a leader inspiring imitation and emulation. His
personality became a centre to which a whole community was attracted
by a sort of inward necessity. Before very long this founder of a
community appeared to his followers as a superman, unique and
incomparable among all other men. Some lines of Empedokles,[34\11]
who did not himself belong to the Pythagorean society, bear witness
to this fact, and to his followers Pythagoras became in memory a
saint or even a god in human form, and they related legends of the
miracles he had {375} performed. For us it is difficult to form a
connected picture or trace the real features of the man beneath the
dazzling halo of the saint.
The teaching which enabled him to knit together his followers in a
far closer bond of fellowship in living than had been achieved by
any Orphic sect, must still in the main have coincided with what in
the Orphic doctrine immediately related to the religious life. He
too pointed out the way of salvation for the soul and his doctrine
of the soul formed the central feature of his philosophy.
So far as our scanty and dubious evidence serves us, the substance
of the Pythagorean doctrine of the soul may be stated as follows.
The soul of man, once more regarded entirely as the "double" of the
visible body and its powers, is a daimonic immortal being[35\11]
that has been cast down from divine heights and for a punishment is
confined within the "custody" of the body.[36\11] It has no real
relationship with the body; it is not what may be called the
personality of the individual visible man; any soul may dwell in any
body.[37\11] When death separates it from the body the soul must
first endure a period of purgation in Hades[38\11] and then return
again to the upper world. The souls invisibly swarm about the
living;[39\11] in the tremulous motion of motes in the sunbeam the
Pythagoreans saw the movement of the "souls".[40\11] The whole air
is full of souls.[41\11] Upon earth, however, the soul must seek out
another body, and this may be repeated many times. So it wanders a
long way, passing through many bodies of men and beasts.[42\11] Very
ancient tradition[43\11] said that Pythagoras himself remembered the
earlier incarnations through which his soul had passed (and of which
he gave information for the instruction and warning of the
faithful). Here, too, the doctrine of the soul's transmigrations
took on an edificatory character in a religious and ethical sense.
The conditions of the new incarnations and the character of the new
lifetime are governed by the performances of the past life. What the
soul has done in the past, that it must suffer in its own person
when it becomes a man again.[44\11]
It is thus of primary importance both for the present life and for
future incarnations to know and to follow the methods of salvation
delivered by Pythagoras to his followers. The society points out the
way to its company of the faithful in purifications and initiations,
in a "Pythagorean life"[45\11] entirely organized with the same
purpose in view--to "follow the god".[46\11] Much of the old ritual
symbolism that had been {376} in use for ages must have been
incorporated in this Pythagorean asceticism.[47\11] The theological
ethic of asceticism was essentially negative in character, and here,
too, it meant nothing more than a protecting of the soul against the
attacks of external evil that might come and pollute it.[48\11] All
that matters is to keep the soul pure: no need for moral
reformation--only that it be kept free from external evil. The fact
of immortality, the soul's perpetuity, stands fast and unalterable;
as it was from the beginning so it must ever be and live.[49\11] To
lift it at last altogether from this earthly existence and restore
it to a free divine state of being--that, at least, was the final
goal.[50\11]
The practical philosophy of the Pythagorean school is founded upon a
conception of the soul as absolutely distinct from "nature", and, in
fact, opposed to it. It is thrust into the life of nature, but it is
in a foreign world where it preserves its self-enclosed
individuality intact and from which it escapes into independence to
undergo ever-renewed incarnations. Its origin is supra-mundane, and
so, too, when liberated from the shackles of natural life it will
one day be enabled to return to a supernatural existence as a
spirit.
Not one of these ideas is achieved by a process of scientific
thinking. Physiology, the science of the world and all the phenomena
of the world could never lead to the conception of the soul's
separateness from nature and its life. It was not from Greek
science, but neither was it, as ancient tradition would have us
believe, from foreign lands, that Pythagoras got his belief in the
fallen nature of the soul, descended from supra-mundane heights to
this earthly nature, and in its long pilgrimage through many bodies
on the completion of which it is to be free at last, through
purifications and initiations. He may have owed much to his travels;
from his stay in Egypt, perhaps, he may (like Demokritos after him)
have derived the stimulus to his mathematical discoveries and much
else besides of the "learning" which Herakleitos ascribes to him.
His doctrine of the soul, on the other hand, simply reproduces in
essentials the fanciful ideas of the old popular psychology, as it
had been enlarged and transformed by the _theologi_ and the
purification priests. Tradition was right in its estimation of his
character, when it set him in this company and made him the pupil of
Pherekydes of Syros, the _theologos_.[51\11]
It can hardly be doubted that Pythagoras himself laid the
foundations of the Pythagorean science--the doctrine of the creation
of the world and perhaps, too, the interpretation of {377} all being
and becoming in the world as due to the action and relation of
numbers, as the essential basis of all things--all this, at least in
elementary outline, must have been handed on by him to his
followers. After his death the two sides of his doctrine continued
to develop for a period in loose conjunction side by side; the
guidance of life by the mystical and religious philosophy (though
this, indeed, was hardly capable of further development), and the
scientific interest which grew into a fairly elaborate system.
Indeed, with the break-up of the Pythagorean society and its
bifurcation in the fifth century, the scattered members of the band
now brought into touch with the scientific studies of other
communities and cut off from the ideal of the Pythagorean life which
could only be realized within the limits of the society, were forced
to continue their scientific studies in solitude. Pythagorean
science, evolving, as it did, a picture of the world as a whole, no
less than Ionian physiology deprived the soul of the unique and,
indeed, antagonistic relation to nature that Pythagorean theology
had given it. Philolaos, conceiving it in a manner strictly
conforming to the mathematical and musical theory, called the soul a
_Harmony_ of contrary elements united together in the body.[52\11]
If, however, the soul is only a binding-together of opposites to
unity and harmony, then it must, when death breaks up the
conjunction of the united elements, itself pass away and
perish.[53\11] It is difficult to imagine how the older Pythagorean
faith in the soul as an independent being dwelling in the body and
surviving it--in the immortal soul, in fact--could be accommodated
to this conception. Can it be that the two conceptions were not
originally intended to be brought into conjunction at all, or were
not meant to exclude each other? Ancient tradition spoke of
different groups among the followers of Pythagoras who had also
different objects, methods, and aims of study; nor shall we be
inclined to deny all credibility to this tradition when we observe
how little, in fact, Pythagorean science and Pythagorean faith had
to do with each other.[54\11]
And yet we have to admit that the same Philolaos, who described the
soul as a harmony of its body, also spoke of the soul as an
independent and imperishable being. We may well doubt whether these
two contradictory utterances can really come from the same man and
apply to the same object; though the same man might really speak in
varying language about the one soul if he recognized different
_parts_ of the soul of which different truths held good; and this
was, in fact, first suggested by the Pythagorean school.[55\11]
{378}
§ 6
Empedokles of Akragas did not belong to the Pythagorean school (it
lost its external unity in his time); but he approaches Pythagorean
doctrine so closely in his opinions and teaching about the soul of
man, its problems and destinies, that there can be no doubt about
Pythagorean influence upon the formation of his convictions on these
points. His many-sided activities also included the study of natural
science and he took up the researches of the Ionic Physiologists
with zeal and a marked aptitude for the observation and synthesis of
natural phenomena. But the roots of his peculiar individuality--the
_pathos_ which moved and agitated him--lay in a practical activity
far removed from scientific investigation and representing a
brilliant resuscitation in a very different age of the character and
practice of the _mantis_, the purification-priest and
magical-physician of the sixth century. The introduction to his
"Purifications"[56\11] gives a picture of his triumphal progress
from city to city, crowned with ribbons and garlands, adored as a
god and questioned by thousands: "Where is the road to healing?" He
intends to give his disciple Pausanias the results of his own
experience and to teach him all his remedies for disease and their
virtues, the arts of stilling the winds and stirring them up,
producing drought or rain, raising the dead from Hades.[57\11] He
himself boasted of being a magician and his pupil Gorgias saw him
"do magic".[58\11] Through him those efforts of the _Kathartes_, the
expiation-priest and seer, which an earlier and already
distant-seeming time had honoured as the highest form of wisdom, at
last achieved a voice and literary expression--an expression given
them with the fullest personal experience of the truth of their
claims by one who was convinced of their power to control nature and
sure of the godlike status of the man who had reached these almost
superhuman heights of empire over nature. As a god, an immortal no
longer subject to death, he passed through all the land--so
Empedokles himself tells us.[59\11] He may have won credit in many
places. He did not, indeed, found an ordered society of disciples
and adherents, a sect: this does not seem to have been his
intention. But he alone as a unique and unparalleled being, a
self-confident personality of the greatest force and weight
impressed himself masterfully both as mystic and politician upon the
mundane affairs of his contemporaries and pointed the way beyond
time and all things temporal to a blessed and divine state as the
final goal of human life. He {379} must have made a profound
impression upon the men among whom he lived,[60\11] though he
disappeared from their midst like a comet, and left no permanent
traces of his presence behind him. Many legends still witness to the
astonishment that his appearance among men provoked, more especially
those legends that in varying form related his end.[61\11] They are
all expressions of the same belief: that he, as his own verses had
foretold, in his departure did not have to suffer death; he had
vanished, "translated" body and soul together to an everlasting
divine life, as once Menelaos had been and so many great figures of
the ancient days, and even a few Heroes of more recent times.[62\11]
Once more the ancient conception shows in this story that it still
lives on: immortal life can only be obtained by undissolved union of
the psyche with its body. Such a legend hardly did justice to
Empedokles' own idea. When he claimed to be a god who would never
die he certainly did not mean that his psyche would remain for ever
bound to his body. On the contrary, he thought that in "death", as
men[63\11] call it, it would be freed from this last corporeal
envelope[64\11] and never again have to enter into a body, but would
live for ever in freedom and divinity. His conception of the
conscious after-life of the psyche was as different as it was
possible for it to be from the Homeric conception on which that
translation legend was based.
Empedokles united in his own person to an astonishing degree the
most sober attempts at a study of nature that was scientific
according to its lights, and quite irrational beliefs and
theological speculations. Occasionally the scientific impulse passes
over to influence even the world of his beliefs;[65\11] but as a
rule theology and natural science exist side by side in his mind
quite independently. As a physiologist he inherited the already
extensive and variously developed stock of ideas belonging to the
older generations of inquirers and thinkers. He himself was able to
unite conceptions derived from the most different sources into an
original whole that satisfied himself at least. Becoming and
passing-away, all qualitative change, were denied by him as by the
Eleatics, but the permanent substance of Being is for him no single
indivisible unity. There are four "roots" of things, the four bodies
of elements, which in this division are for the first time clearly
distinguished. It is the mixture and separation of the essentially
indivisible elements that cause the appearance of becoming and
perishing; and those two processes are caused by the two
forces--clearly distinguished from the elements--of attraction and
repulsion, {380} Love and Hate, which in the creative process
struggle and in turn overmaster each other until at last, in the
final victory of one of the two forces, all things are either united
or divided; in either case an organic world ceases to exist. The
present state of the universe is one in which "Love", the tendency
to amalgamation of differences, is prevailing; when this tendency is
completed, there will be an absolute levelling-out of all
distinction; a result which Empedokles, a quietist in his scientific
studies as well, regards as the most desirable end.
In this world, then, that experiences only mechanical movement and
change, and from whose evolution Empedokles by an ingenious turn is
able to exclude all idea of purpose, there are also to be found
souls; or rather psychical powers which grow up entirely within it.
Sense-perception is expressly distinguished from the capacity of
thought by Empedokles.[66\11] The former takes place when each of
the elements, from the mixture of which the perceiving being has its
origin, comes into contact with, and so becomes aware of, the same
elements in the object perceived, through the "passages" that
connect the interior of the body with the exterior.[67\11]
"Thinking" has its seat in the heart's blood, where the elements and
their powers are mixed most equally. Or rather this blood actually
_is_ thinking and the power of thought;[68\11] the material
substance and its vital functions thus also for Empedokles
completely coincide. Plainly, nothing in the nature of a permanent
substantial "soul" is here intended by the thinking-power of the
"mind", but rather a capacity of bringing together and unifying the
individual sense-activities;[69\11] a capacity no less than the
individual powers of sensation bound up with the elements, the
senses, and the body.[70\11] With the varying constitution of the
body, they too vary.[71\11] Both capacities, that of
sense-perception, and that of thought, as vital expressions of the
matter that is combined together in the organic creature, are
present in all organisms; in men, in beasts, and even in
plants.[72\11]
If we give the name of "soul"[73\11] to the sum of these psychical
powers--a name generally reserved for the common permanent
substratum of the changing psychical activities--we cannot avoid
concluding, in accordance with the logic of this philosopher, that
the "soul" must be perishable. With the death and destruction of the
individual the elementary parts that go to compose him are
disunited, and the soul which in this case is nothing but the
highest resultant of that composition, must itself disappear with
their dissolution--as it had come into being with their
union.[74\11] {381}
It might seem as if Empedokles himself was as far as possible
removed from drawing such conclusions from his own premises. No one
speaks more distinctly and forcibly of the spiritual, individual
beings that dwell in men and in other creatures of nature as well.
They are regarded by him as Daimones fallen to the corporeal world,
who have to pass through many different forms of life till they may
at last hope for release.
In the introduction to his poem on Nature, he describes, from his
own experience, and the information of the Daimones who had once led
his soul down to this earthly Vale of Grief,[75\11] how by an
ancient decree of the gods and the compulsion of Necessity, every
daimon that has "polluted" itself by drinking the blood or eating
the flesh of living beings,[76\11] or has broken its oath,[77\11] is
banished for a long period[78\11] from the company of the blessed.
It is thrust down to the "Meadow of Disaster", into the realm of
contradiction,[79\11] the cave of misery upon this earth, and must
now wander through many "painful ways of life"[80\11] in changing
incarnations. "Thus, I myself was once a boy and also a maiden, a
bush, a bird, and a voiceless fish in the salty flood" (ll. 11, 12 =
_fr._ 117). This daimon that in expiation of its crime must wander
through the forms of men, beasts, and even plants, is evidently no
other than what popular speech and that of theologians as well
called the "psyche", the soul-spirit.[81\11] In all essentials
though perhaps in clearer language, Empedokles merely
repeated[82\11] what the adherents of the doctrine of Transmigration
had long told of its divine origin, its fall and penal banishment in
earthly bodies. So, too, when as teacher of the means that bring
salvation, he tells how more gracious forms and conditions of life
may be obtained in the series of births, till at last complete
release from rebirth is achieved,[83\11] Empedokles follows in the
footsteps of the purification-priests and _theologi_ of old. It is a
matter of keeping the daimon within us free from the pollutions that
bind it fast to the earthly life. To this end the methods of
religious purification are most efficacious; Empedokles respects
them quite as much as did the old _Kathartai_. It is necessary to
keep the internal daimon far removed from every kind of
"sin",[84\11] more particularly from the drinking of blood and the
eating of meat which must necessarily involve the murder of kinsmen
daimones which are dwelling in the slaughtered beasts.[85\11] By
purification and asceticism (which here again dispenses with a
positive form of morality aimed at reforming the man) a gradual
process to purer and better births is achieved;[86\11] in the end
the persons thus reborn in a purified condition {382} become seers,
poets, doctors, and are the leaders of mankind.[87\11] Finally, when
they have emerged superior even to these highest steps of earthly
life, they return to the other immortals, and become themselves gods
released from human misery, escaping death, and now
indestructible.[88\11] Empedokles regard himself as one who has
reached the last stage,[89\11] and points out to others the way up
to it.
Between what Empedokles the mystic here tells us of the soul that
was once living its divine life, but has since been plunged into the
world of the elements, though it is not for ever bound to them; and
what Empedokles the physiologist teaches of the psychical powers
that dwell in the elements and are bound to the body that is
composed of the elements and perish with their dissolution, there
seems to be a hopeless contradiction. And yet if we are to grasp the
whole truth of what Empedokles means, we must neither leave on one
side half of what he says,[90\11] nor yet by well-meaning
interpretation seek to bring the philosopher into harmony with
himself,[91\11] when he clearly speaks with two different voices.
The two voices say different things, and yet in the mind of
Empedokles, there is no contradiction in what they say, for they are
dealing with totally distinct objects. The psychical powers and
faculties of feeling and perception which are functions of matter,
born in matter, and determined by it, together with the thinking
faculty that is no other than the heart's blood of men--these
neither make up the character and content of that soul-spirit which
dwells in men, beasts, and flowers, nor are they expressions of its
activity. They are entirely bound up with the elements and their
combination, and in man they are joined to the body and its organs;
they are the powers and faculties of this body, and not of a special
and invisible entity, the soul. The soul-daimon is not made out of
the elements, nor is it for ever chained to them. It enters as a
stranger into this world in which the only permanent component parts
are[92\11] the four elements, and the two forces of Love and Hate;
and it enters it from another world, the world of gods and spirits,
to its detriment; the elements cast it about from one to another
"and they all hate it" (_fr._ 115, 12, l. 35 M.). This living soul,
with its independent existence, that thus enters into foreign and
hostile surroundings, only enters into such earthly creatures as
already possess senses, feeling and perception, together with reason
or the faculty of thinking, the crowning manifestation of their
material union. It is, however, as little identical with these
psychical faculties as it is with the mixture of elementary matter
or, in {383} the case of men, with the heart's blood. It exists,
unmixed and incapable of mixture, _alongside_ the body and its
faculties which indeed only have life--"what men call life"--(_fr._
15, 2, l. 117 M.) when united with it. When they are separated from
it they fall into dissolution; not so the soul, which continues its
journey and visits other dwelling places, and does not share in
their dissolution.
This peculiar dualistic doctrine reflects the two sides of
Empedokles' own mental activity. He probably intended in this way to
unite the views of both the physiologists and the theologians. To
the Greeks, such a twofold division of the inner life may have
seemed less surprising than it does to us. The conception of a
"soul" that as an independent, unique, and self-contained spiritual
being dwells within the body, while the body does not receive its
intellectual faculties of perceiving, feeling, willing and thinking
from the soul, but exercises these by its own power--this conception
agrees at bottom with the ideas of popular psychology that are as a
rule described or implied in the Homeric poems.[93\11] The only
difference is that these ideas of poet and populace are elaborated
and defined by the speculations of theologians and philosophers. How
deeply impressed upon the Greek mind such conceptions, derived
eventually from Homer, actually were, can be measured by the fact
that a conception of the twofold origin of psychic activity, its
twofold nature and sphere of action, closely related to that of
Empedokles, is continually recurring in more advanced stages of
philosophy. It occurs not merely in Plato, but even in Aristotle,
who in addition to the "soul" that directs and expresses itself in
the physico-organic nature of man, recognizes another being of
divine descent that enters into man "from without", the "mind"
(~nou=s~) which is separable both from the soul and from the body,
and is alone destined to survive the death of the man to which it
was assigned.[94\11] In the doctrine of Empedokles, too, it is a
stranger-guest from the distant land of gods that enters into man to
give him a soul. This being is indeed far below the "mind" of
Aristotle in philosophic importance; nevertheless, in the
introduction of this Stranger into the world composed of the
elements and vital faculties, a sense of the absolute uniqueness of
spirit, its unlikeness to everything material, its essential
distinctness from matter, finds expression, if only in a limited
theological fashion.
In the light of such theological considerations, the soul seems also
to Empedokles something essentially distinct from its prototype, the
Homeric psyche, which after its separation {384} from the body
passes to the twilight of a shadowy dream-life. To him, the soul is
of divine race, too noble for this world of visibility, and only
when it escapes from this world does it seem to him to begin its
real and full life. Though confined within the body, it has its
separate existence there; it has no concern with the everyday
business of perception and sensation--not even with that of
thinking, which is nothing else but the heart's blood. But it is
active in the "higher" mode of knowledge, in ecstatic
inspiration;[95\11] to it alone belongs the profound insight of the
philosopher who is enabled to pass beyond the limits of mere
experience and sense-perception, and behold the totality of the
universe in its true nature.[96\11] To it alone apply all the
requirements of ethical and religious systems--duties in this higher
sense belong only to the soul; it is something in the nature of a
"conscience". Its highest duty is to free itself from the unhallowed
union with the body, and the elements of this world; the rules of
purification and asceticism refer solely to it.
Between this soul-daimon that yearns after its divine home, and the
world of the elements, there exists no inward bond or necessary
connexion. And yet, since they have become implicated in each
other's existence, a certain parallelism exists between them in
character and destiny. In the mechanically moved world, too, the
separate and particular phenomena tend back again towards their
starting point, the inwardly coherent Unity from which they once
took their origin. A day will come when, after all struggle has been
done away, "Love" alone will have absolute rule; and this means for
the poet--who in his description even of this world of mechanical
attraction and repulsion interpolates half-realized ethical
concepts[97\11]--a state of absolute goodness and happiness. If
there is no longer any world, then, until another one is created, no
soul-daimon can be bound any more to the individual organisms of a
world. Have they then all returned to the blessed communion of the
immortal gods? It appears that not even the gods and daimones (and
so not the spirits enclosed in world as "souls") are regarded by
Empedokles as having everlasting life. "Long-living" is the name he
repeatedly applies to them; he never distinctly ascribes _eternal_
life to them.[98\11] They, too, shall for a period enjoy "the
happiness of profoundest peace" until, just as the elements and
forces are drawn into the unity of the Sphairos, they, too, come
together in the unity of the godlike Universal Mind, thence at a new
world-creation to appear once more as individual separate
being.[99\11] {385}
§ 7
Empedokles took a fully developed "hylozoic" system (which in
itself, with its introduction of the motive forces of Conflict and
Love, already betrayed a latent dualism) and attempted to combine
with it an extreme form of spiritualist teaching. His attempt
illustrates very clearly the observation that a philosophic science
of nature in itself could never lead to the establishment of the
axiom that the individual "soul" after its separation from the body
continues to exist, still less that it is indestructible. Any one
who still felt it necessary to assert that axiom could find support
for it only by allowing physiology to be either overwhelmed by
theological speculation, or else supplemented by it in the manner
attempted by Empedokles.
Such an attempt to reconcile the irreconcilable can have found few
adherents among those who were accessible to scientific ideas, nor
was it likely to tempt the physiological philosophy from the path
which it had hitherto followed. Soon after Empedokles, and in
essentials hardly influenced by him, Anaxagoras and Demokritos
developed those doctrinal systems which were the last products of
the independent speculation of Ionia. Demokritos was the founder and
completer of the atomic doctrine according to which there exist "in
reality" only the indivisible, minutest material bodies--which,
while qualitatively indistinguishable, yet differ in shape,
position, and arrangement in space as well as in bulk and
weight--and empty space. He was obliged to seek for the "soul"
(which to the _materialist_ may easily present itself as being a
separate, substantial, self-existent thing) among those minutest
bodies out of which the whole fabric of the world of appearance is
built up. The soul is that which confers movement upon the
inherently motionless collections of bodies. It is composed of the
round and smooth atoms which, in the universal condition of unrest
that keeps all the atoms in agitation, are the most easily moved,
for they offer least resistance to change of position, and can most
easily penetrate others. These atoms compose fire and the soul. It
is the soul-atom--one being inserted between every two of the other
atoms[100\11]--which gives these their movement; and it is from all
the soul-atoms uniformly disposed throughout the whole body that the
body gets its movement, whence also (though it must be admitted in
an unintelligible manner) comes the power of perception, which
equally depends on movement, and the thought arising thence, of this
same body. {386} During the life-time of the individual body, the
continuance of the soul-atoms is secured by the breathing which
continually replaces the smooth soul-particles that are as
continually being expelled from the whole atom-complex by the
pressure of the surrounding atmosphere. The breathing is always
drawing in fresh soul-stuff from the air which is full of floating
soul-atoms, and supplies it to the body. A time comes, however, when
the breathing refuses this function, and death occurs, which is
simply the insufficient supply of these moving and animating
atoms.[101\11] With the coming of death, there is an end to the
union of the atoms, whose amalgamation had formed the particular
living organism. Neither the soul-atoms nor any of the other atoms
are destroyed; they do not alter in kind; but from the loose state
of aggregation which even in the living body hardly amounted to an
absolute unity to which a single common name could be applied--from
this they now escape entirely. It is scarcely possible to see how,
on this view of what essentially constitutes mental and vital
phenomena, as a mere resultant of the separate and individual
activities of individual and disconnected bodies, the unity of the
living organism and the spiritual entity could ever come into being.
It is even more evident that a unified "soul" could not possibly
continue to exist after the dissolution which takes place at death
of the atoms that in their union made up the organism. And, in fact,
the soul-atoms disperse;[102\11] they return whence they came into
the restless mass of world-stuff. The human individual, in this view
of the case, perishes in death entirely.[103\11] The materials out
of which he was shaped and composed are indestructible, and reserved
for future construction; but his personality--the invisible
personality, the "soul", just as much as the visible--has but a
single existence strictly limited to its one appearance in time. The
continued existence of the soul after death, an immortality in
whatever manner the thing may be conceived, is here for the first
time in the history of Greek thought, expressly denied. The Atomist,
with the candid precision that distinguishes him, draws the
necessary consequences of his premises.
Anaxagoras strikes out a path almost directly opposed to this
materialist doctrine. As the first decisive and conscious dualist
among Greek philosophers, he takes the material substratum of being,
the inexhaustible many of distinctly characterized and distinctly
separate "Seeds" of things--which are nevertheless indistinguishably
intermingled with each other--and sets over against them a force
which he {387} obviously did not mean to derive from them, to which
he gives a name usually attached to the faculty of thought in man,
and which in any case he thought of as analogous to that
faculty.[104\11] This "Mind", simple, unmixed and unchangeable, is
given such titles and adjectives that it is impossible to mistake
the effort of Anaxagoras to think of it as something distinct from
everything material, and in fact, absolutely immaterial and
incorporeal.[105\11] It is at once power of thought and force of
will; at the creation of the world it gives the first circular
impulse to the intrinsically motionless lump of matter; the creation
of distinct forms in accordance with a conscious purpose is begun by
it--though the carrying out of this purpose is indeed to be
completed in accordance with pure mechanical laws without the
interference of "Mind". This "Mind" that plans and orders but does
not make the world, that with the conscious insight of its
omniscient wisdom[106\11] influences matter without being influenced
in turn, that moves without being moved;[107\11] set over against
the multiplicity of things as an indivisible unity,[108\11] "having
nothing in common with anything outside itself"[109\11] but entirely
self-contained[110\11]--how shall we conceive of it otherwise than
as an almost personified, transcendent divine power confronting the
world of matter as something foreign to it, ruling the world from
without by magical, not mechanical, means?
But this transcendent is also completely immanent. **Wherever in
this world life and independent movement are found, there, too, the
mind as the source of life and movement must be active. "Mind rules
all that has soul" says Anaxagoras.[111\11] In saying this he has
not indeed asserted the presence of "Mind" within the animated being
nor yet identity of nature as between soul and mind. But when we
hear that Mind "goes through all things,[112\11] that in everything
there is a part of all things, except of mind, and in some things of
mind also",[113\11] that must imply the penetration of many
associations of matter by mind (hardly any longer to be thought of
as immaterial) whereby the previously asserted transcendency of mind
seems to be given up. At any rate, as such associations in which is
"Mind", living and animated beings are regarded. It is in them that
"Mind" is present in continual, equal creativeness, though in
different degrees;[114\11] indeed, Mind is or constitutes that very
thing that we call the "soul" of a living being.[115\11] Among these
living beings, which exist upon the moon,[116\11] as well as on
earth, are not only men and beasts, but also plants.[117\11] In all
these "Mind" is active; without losing any of its purity or unity,
it is mixed with them.[118\11] {388} How we are to conceive the
omnipotent Mind, whose oneness and self-containedness has been so
emphatically asserted, as nevertheless entering simultaneously into
the infinity of individual being--that certainly remains obscure. It
is clear, however, that having thus derived all animated being from
the single World-Mind, Anaxagoras could not speak of the continued
existence of individual, self-existent "souls" after the dissolution
of the material concretions in which moving and animating
"soul-force" had once lived. The view is definitely ascribed to him
that separation from the body is also "the soul's death".[119\11]
Nothing, indeed, of the component parts that belong to the whole
perishes, and no change in its nature takes place. So "Mind", whose
manifestations the "souls" were, maintains itself unaltered and
undiminished; but after the dissolution of the united, which "the
Hellenes" regard as its destruction,[120\11] though the component
parts of the individual remain, yet not _that_ particular mixture in
which the peculiarity of the individual was inherent--"Mind"
remains, but not the soul . . .
Thus, the first distinct separation of the intellectual thinking
principle from the material substance with which it was--not fused,
much less identified, but--contrasted in sovereignty and
independence, did not lead to the recognition of the
indestructibility of the individual spirit.
Shall we say that the mental, self-moved, life-giving principle,
whether set over against the material and corporeal or indivisibly
united with it, is for the physiologist always something
universal--that the essentially real is impersonal? For him the
individual, the personality conscious of itself and of the outer
world, can be nothing but a manifestation of the universal, whether
the latter is regarded as fixed and at rest, or as a living process
that untiringly develops itself, recruits itself, and reconstructs
itself in ever renewed creations. The only permanent, unchanging
reality is the universal, the essential and fundamentally real
Nature which appears in all individual things, speaks out of their
mouth, and, in reality, only works and lives in them. The individual
human soul has its indestructibility only in its identity with the
universal that represents itself in it. The individual forms of
"appearance", having no independence of their own, cannot
permanently abide.
The view that imperishable life belongs to the individual soul could
only be reached by a line of thought that took as a fact and held
fast to it as something given that the individual spirit is a
reality. (Its appearance and disappearance in the {389} midst of the
one universe was indeed for the physiologists the true miracle, the
problem never satisfactorily solved.) Such a belief in
individuality, the belief in an independently existent individual
substance that had never had a beginning and could therefore never
have an end, was the contribution, however fancifully it might be
expressed, of the theologians and the mystics. For them immortality,
the power of substantive duration unlimited by time, was extended
also to include the individual. The individual soul is for them a
self-existent, individual, divine being, indestructible because it
is divine.
Greek philosophy underwent many changes in the course of its
speculations during the following ages; but exactly in proportion as
it, to a greater or lesser degree, accepted theological elements or
on the other hand rejected such elements, did it give fundamental
support to the view of the soul's immortality, or grudgingly admit
it, or absolutely reject it.
NOTES TO CHAPTER XI
[1\11: ~psuchê/~ = "life," "concept of life," in Homer (though not
indeed used to denote psychical powers during lifetime): see above,
pp. 30, 31. So, too, occasionally in the remains of the Iambic and
Elegiac poets of the earliest period: Archil. 23; Tyrt. 10, 14; 11,
5; Sol. 13, 46; Thgn. 568 f., 730; (Hippon. 43, 1?). ~psuchê/~ =
"life" in the proverbial phrase ~peri\ psuchê=s trechei=n~ (see
Wessel. and Valck. on Hdt. vii, 57; Jacobs on Ach. Tat., p. 896**).
~psuchê/~ frequently = "life" in the idiom of the Attic orators (see
Meuss, _Jahrb. f. Philol._ 1889, p. 803).]
[2\11: See above, pp. 5, 30. Even the Homeric poems in one case show
a slight uncertainty of language and of psychological conception
when they use ~thumo/s~, the highest and most general of the powers
of life dwelling within the visible and living man, in the sense of
~psuchê/~, the double of the man who dwells as a lodger in his body,
separate and taking no part in the ordinary business of his life.
The ~thumo/s~ (see above, chap. i, n. 57) is active during the man's
lifetime, is enclosed in the midriff (~en phresi\ thumo\s~) and when
that is overtaken by death is itself overwhelmed (~Ps~ 104): on the
arrival of death it leaves the body and perishes--while the
~psuchê/~ flies away intact. The distinction is clearly maintained,
e.g. in ~l~ 220 f.: "fire destroys the body" ~epei/ ken prô=ta
li/pê| leu/k' oste/a _thumo/s, psuchê\ d'_ êu/t' o/neiros
apoptame/nê pepo/têtai~. ~thumo/s~ and ~psuchê/~ therefore leave the
body of the slain man simultaneously (~thumou= kai\ psuchê=s
kekadô/n~ ~L~ 334, ~ph~ 154); but in very different ways. The
relation between them becomes, however, interchangeability in the
single case when it is said of the ~thumo/s~ that _it_ in death will
enter ~apo\ me/le/ôn do/mon A/idos ei/sô~--~Ê~ 131; in reality this
could only be said of that very different being, the ~psuchê/~.
(When a fainting-fit has passed over we do indeed hear, not that the
~psuchê/~--though this it was that had left the man: see above,
chap. i, n. 8--but that ~es phre/na _thumo\s_ age/rthê~, ~Ch~ 475,
~e~ 458, ~ô~ 349. This, however, is not a case of ~thumo/s~ instead
of ~psuchê/~, but ~thumo/s~ is merely an abbreviated form of the
whole statement which would be in full: _both_ ~thumo/s~ and
~psuchê/~ have now returned into the man; cf. ~E~ 696. It is a kind
of synecdoche.) In the line ~Ê~ 131 we really, then, do have
~thumo/s~ instead of ~psuchê/~ either as the result of a
misunderstanding of the real meaning of the two words or merely
through an oversight. But never (and this is the most essential
point) do we have a case in Homer of the opposite exchange of
significance: i.e. of ~psuchê/~ used in the sense ~thumo/s~ (~no/os,
me/nos, êtor~, etc.), as meaning the mental power and its activity
in the living and waking man. Just this, however, and more than
this, the sum and substance of all the mental powers in general, is
what the word ~psuchê/~ means in the language of the philosophers
(except those affected by religious tendencies). They left out of
account altogether that spiritual double of mankind whom the popular
psychology called the ~psuchê/~, and were thus free to use the word
to express the whole psychical content of the human individual. From
the fifth century onwards we find the word ~psuchê/~ used commonly,
and even regularly, in this sense in the vocabulary of
non-philosophical poets and prose writers. Only theologians and
poets, or philosophers of a theological tendency, continued to use
the {391} word in its ancient and primitive sense. Indeed, when the
separation of a spiritual being from the body of a man in death was
being spoken of, ~psuchê/~ always continued to be the proper word
for this sense even in popular language. (An extremely rare example
of ~thumo/s~ in this sense, comparable with ~Ê~ 131, is [Arist.]
_Pepl_. 61 Bgk.; ~_thumo/n_ . . . aithê\r lampro\s e/chei~. In the
corresponding epigram, _Epigr. Gr._ 41, we have ~psuchê/n~.)]
[3\11: ~e/nioi~, among them Choirilos of Samos: D.L. i, 24 (from
Favorinus): _Vors._^4, i, p. 1, 21.]
[4\11: Arist., _An._ 1, 2, p. 405a, 20 f. "Aristotle and Hippias"
ap. D.L. i, 24; _Vors._, p. 2, 1. ~ta\ phuta\ e/mpsucha zô=|a~,
_Dox._ 438a, 6, b, 1.]
[5\11: Metaphorical language: ~Thalê=s ô|ê/thê pa/nta plê/rê theô=n
ei=nai~, Arist., _An._ 1, 5, p. 411a, 8. ~to\n ko/smon (e/mpsuchon
kai\) daimo/nôn plê/rê~, D.L. i, 27; _Dox._ 301b, 2; _Vors._ p. 2,
20. Pl., _Lg._ 899 B, is an allusion to the ~theô=n plê/rê pa/nta~
(as Krische remarks, _Theol. Lehr. d. Gr. Denker_, p. 37). There is
perhaps a half-mocking reference to the words in the saying
attributed by anecdotal tradition to Herakleitos: ~ei=nai kai\
entau=tha theou/s~ (i.e. in his own hearth) Arist., _PA._ 1, 5, p.
645a, 17 ff. Hence Herakleitos himself was credited with the opinion
of Thales in slightly altered form: ~pa/nta psuchô=n ei=nai kai\
daimo/nôn plê/rê~, D.L. ix, 7 (_Vors._, p. 68, 29), in the first
(and valueless) of the two lists of the doctrines of Herakl. there
given.]
[6\11: Arist., _Phys._ 3, 4, p. 203b, 10-14. _Dox._ 559, 18.
_Vors._, p. 17, 35.]
[7\11: Anaximander, _fr._ 2 Mull. _Vors._, p. 15, 26. That
Anaximander declared the soul to be "like air" is an erroneous
statement of Theodoret.: see Diels, _Dox._ 387b, 10 (_Vors._ 21,
5).]
[8\11: Anaximenes in _Dox._ 278a, 12 ff.; b, 8 ff. _fr._ 2 Diels.]
[9\11: Anaxim. calls ~to\n ae/ra theo/n~, i.e. it has divine power:
_Dox._ 302b, 5; 531a, 17, b, 1-2. _Vors._ 24, 18. This at least is
to be understood in the same sense in which Anaximander is said to
have called ~to\ a/peiron, to\ _thei=on_~ (Arist., _Phys._ 3, 4, p.
203b, 13; _Vors._, p. 17, 35).]
[10\11: ~he\n pa/nta ei=nai~, _fr._ 1 (Byw.); 50 (Diels).]
[11\11: Arist., _An._ 1, 2, p. 405a, 25 ff. _Vors._ 74, 30. Hkl. is
also meant in p. 405a, 5. _Dox._ 471, 2 (Arius Didymus); 389a, 3
ff.]
[12\11: Arist., p. 405a. 25 ff. Hkl. _fr._ 68 (36 D.).]
[13\11: S.E., _M._ 7, 127, 129-31. _Vors._ 75, 14 ff.]
[14\11: ~ho theo/s~ is both the Universal Fire, that transforms
itself into the world, and at the same time its power (and ~lo/gos~:
_frr._ 2 [1], 92 [2]): _fr._ 36 (67). ~to\ pu=r theo\n
hupei/lêphen~, Herakl.: Cl. Al., _Prot._ 5, 64, p. 55 P. [_Vors._ n.
8 A 8]. ~pu=r noero\n to\n theo\n (ei=nai ephthe/gxato)~, Hippol.,
_RH._ i, 4, p. 10, 57 Mill.--"Zeus" as metaphor for this universal
fire (hence ~ouk ethe/lei kai\ ethe/lei~), the "only wise one";
_fr._ 65 (32).]
[15\11: ~hê epixenôthei=sa toi=s hêmete/rois sô/masin apo\ tou=
perie/chontos moi=ra (perie/ch.~ = the universal Fire) is said of the
soul and its reasoning faculty ap. S.E., _M._ vii, 130; _Vors._, p.
75, 19; (cf. ~aporroê\ kai\ moi=ra ek tou= phronou=ntos~, Plu., _Is.
et O._ 77, p. 382 B). This is fully Herakleitean in thought if not
also in actual form of expression.]
[16\11: That Herakleitos drew the conclusions affecting also the
"Soul"--the spiritual man--freely paraphrased in the text, arising
necessarily out of his doctrine of the perpetual change in the
material substance that excludes all possibility of lasting
self-identity in any object (_frr._ 40, 41, 42, 81 = 91, 12, 49 a),
is proved especially by the words of Plutarch in the eighteenth
chapter of his treatise _de E Delph._ p. 392--a chapter which is
entirely based on Herakleitos, who is twice actually cited in it.
Not only does ~ho ne/os~ die ~eis to\n akma/zonta ktl.~, but ~ho
chthe\s (a/nthrôpos) eis to\n sê/meron te/thnêken, ho de\ sê/meron
eis to\n {392} au/rion apothnê/skei. me/nei d' oudei/s, oud' e/stin
hei=s, alla gigno/metha polloi\ peri\ he\n pha/ntasma ktl.~; cf.
_Cons. ad Apoll._ 10, p. 106 E. Herakl. is also the origin of what
is said in Plato, _Smp._ 207 D ff.: each man is only apparently one
and the same; in reality, even while he is still alive, "he
continually suffers a new and different man to take the place of the
old and departing one"--and this applies, just as much to the soul
as to the body. (Only from the standpoint of Herakleitean
doctrine--here adopted in passing by Plato as suiting his chosen
method of argument--is the conclusion he reaches justified; the
conclusion is that it is only by the perpetual substitution of a new
being like the old one that man has immortality, and not by the
eternal preservation of his own proper being; for this advantage
belongs peculiarly to the divine. This, of course, cannot possibly
be understood as the serious teaching of Plato himself.)--The
Herakleitean denial of personal identity in men is alluded to by
Epicharmos (or a pseudo-Ep.?) ap. D.L. iii, 11, ll. 13-18; _Vors._,
p. 118-19 (cf. Wytt. ad Plu., _Ser. Num. V._ 559 A = vii, p. 397 f.
Ox.; Bernays, _Rh. Mus._ viii, 280 ff.); and cf. Sen., _Ep._ 58,
23.--It is instructive to compare with Herakl.'s doctrine of the
instability of the psychic complex the very similar theory of the
influx and reflux of the elements of the "soul" as described in the
Indian doctrine of Jainism. The soul (in the Indian doctrine)
continually transforms, re-arranges, and restores itself, just like
the body. See Deussen, _System d. Vedânta_, 330.]
[17\11: The apparently contradictory statement ~psuchê=|si te/rpsin,
mê\ tha/naton, hugrê=|si gene/sthai~ ap. Porph., _Antr. Nymph._ 10
(72 By., 77 D.), does not represent the words or real opinion of
Hkl., but only of Numenios' (_fr._ 35 Thedinga) arbitrary and
personal interpretation of Hkl. doctrine (see Gomperz in _Sitzb. d.
Wien. Ak._ 113, 1015 ff.).]
[18\11: A doctrine of transmigration of souls is attributed to Hkl.
by Schuster, _Heraklit_, p. 174 ff. (1873). The utterances of
Herakleitos there quoted to prove this thesis (_frr._ 78, 67, 123 =
88, 62, 63) do not, however, imply anything of the kind and there is
not the slightest indication in the whole of Hkl's doctrinal system
upon which a theory of the transmigration of the soul might be
founded.]
[19\11: To prove that Herakleitos spoke of a continuation of the
life of the individual soul after its separation from the body,
appeal is made partly to the statements of later philosophers,
partly to actual utterances of Herakl. (cf. in particular Zeller,
_Greek Phil. to Socr._ ii, 86; Pfleiderer, _Philos. d. Heraklit im
Lichte der Mysterienidee_, p. 214 ff.). Platonist philosophers do,
of course, attribute to Herakleitos a doctrine of the soul which
taught the pre-existence of the individual soul, "its fall in
birth," and its departure into a separate life of its own after
death (cf. Numenios ap. Porph., _Ant._ 10; Iamb., ap. Stob., _Ecl._
i, 375, 7; 38, 21 ff. W.; Aen. Gaz., _Thphr._, pp. 5, 7 Boiss.).
These accounts, however, are plainly but private and arbitrary
interpretations of Herakleitean sayings (~metaba/llon anapau/etai,
ka/mato/s esti toi=s autoi=s aei\ mochthei=n kai\ a/rchesthai~) in
the light of the conceptions current among those philosophers
themselves; they are homiletic, fancifully conceived expositions of
very short and ambiguous texts, and can so much the less serve as
witnesses of Herakleitos' real opinions since Plotinos (4, 8, 1)
openly admits that Herakl. in this matter has omitted ~saphê= hêmi=n
poiê=sai to\n lo/gon~. Others read into certain Herakleitean
utterances the Orphic doctrine of ~sô=ma--sê=ma~, the entombment of
the soul in the body (Philo, _Leg. Alleg._ 1, 33, i, p. 65 M.; S.E.,
_P._ iii, 230), which cannot, however, be seriously supposed to be
his teaching. The soul did not for Hkl., any more than for the
Pythagoreans or Platonics, {393} come into existence at birth
(substantially) out of nothing (which was the popular idea); it
rather, as a portion of the universal fire (the universal psyche) is
in existence from eternity. But it certainly does not follow,
because later writers insisted on finding in him the idea so
familiar to themselves, that Hkl. himself accepted the pre-existence
of disembodied separate souls possessing complete and absolute
individuality. A few enigmatic and highly picturesque
expressions--typical of this philosopher's favourite manner of
expressing abstract ideas by clothing them in symbolic
imagery--might tempt to such an interpretation. ~atha/natoi
thnêtoi/, thnêtoi\ atha/natoi, zô=ntes to\n ekei/nôn tha/naton to\n
de\ ekei/nôn bi/on tethneô=tes~ (_fr._ 67 = 62)--that certainly does
sound as if Hkl. had meant to speak of the entrance into the human
life of individual divine beings (and this was simply substituted in
inaccurate quotations of the saying: ~theoi\ thnêtoi/, a/nthrôpoi
atha/natoi~, etc.; cf. Bernays, _Heraklit. Briefe_, 39 ff.). And yet
Herakleitos can only have meant, in conformity with his whole
position, that eternal and perishable, divine and human are alike
and interchangeable; he has for the moment personified ~to\ thei=on~
(also called ~ho theo/s~ _fr._ 36 = 67; cf. _fr._ 61 = 102) as
individual ~atha/natoi~, but he only means what he says in another
place: ~tauto\ to\ zô=n kai\ tethnêko/s~ (_fr._ 78 = 88), ~bi/os~
and ~tha/natos~ are the same (_fr._ 66 = 48). It seems to me
impossible to extract from these words of this 67th fragment (62nd),
or from no. 44 (= 53), a doctrine of the ascent to divinity of
special great men (with Gomperz, _Sitzb. Wien. Ak._ 1886, p. 1010,
1041 f.). Nor would anything be asserted by such a doctrine about
the immortality of such men. The striking phrase ~anthrô/pous me/nei
teleutê/santas ha/ssa ouk e/lpontai~ (_fr._ 122 = 27) is certainly
understood by Cl. Al. as referring to the punishment of the soul
after death. But the same Cl. Al., _Str._ **v, 9, p. 649 P., is
capable of explaining the Herakleitean ~ekpu/rôsis~ (in which
Herakl. actually speaks of a ~kri/sis~ by fire: _fr._ 26 = 66) as a
~dia\ puro\s ka/tharsis tô=n _kakô=s bebiôko/tôn_~. In fact, he is
giving to statements torn from their context a meaning that accords
with his own knowledge and comprehension. The same sentence (_fr._
122 = 27) is given a quite different and consolatory sense by Plu.
ap. Stob., _Fl._ 120, 8 fin.; cf. Schuster, _Heraklit_, p. 190, n.
1. Herakl. himself need have meant nothing more than the perpetual
process of change that "awaits men after death".--Other utterances
are no more conclusive for a doctrine of immortality in Hkl. (_fr._
7 = 18 belongs to quite another context). "Those who have fallen in
war are honoured both by gods (whose existence was not denied by
Hkl. nor was it necessary that he should) and men," _fr._ 102 = 24;
that their reward was anything else but fame--for example, blessed
immortality--is not suggested even by Cl. Al. (_Str._ iv, 16, p. 571
P.), and is certainly not to be extracted from H.'s words, _fr._ 126
= 5 (the fool) ~hou/ti ginô/skôn theou\s oud' hê/rôas hoi/tine/s
eisin~ simply shows that Hkl. did not share the popular ideas about
gods and Heroes, but supplies nothing positive.--In _fr._ 38 = 98 we
have ~hai psuchai\ osmô=ntai kath' ha/|dên~. Are we really to deduce
from this that Herakl. believed in a regular Homeric Hades?
~ha/|dês~ is a metaphorical expression for the opposite of the life
on earth (just as it is used metaphorically for the opp. of ~pha/os~
by the Herakleitean [Hippocr.] _de Victu_, 1, 4, p. 632 Kühn = vi,
476 Lit.). For the souls ~ha/|dês~ means the ~ho/dos ka/tô~ and the
sense of the dictum is: after disappearing in death the souls when
they have travelled on the way downwards through water and earth
will at last rise up again through water, and drawing in to
themselves pure, dry "fire" will become "souls" again, (~osmô=ntai~
is remarkable {394} but not to be altered. ~hosiou=ntai~ Pfleiderer;
but the connexion in which Plu. quotes the saying of Herakl. [_Fac.
O. L._ xxviii, p. 943 E] shows that there is no reference to the
purification of the souls in Hades, but merely of their nourishment
and strengthening by the ~anathumi/asis~ of the fiery aether; cf.
also S.E., _M._ ix, 73, following Poseidonios. This
~anathumia=n~--and the becoming "fiery" again--is what Hkl. calls
~osma=sthai~.)--From the hopelessly corrupt _fr._ 123 = 63 nothing
intelligible can be extracted.--Nowhere can we find clear and
unambiguous statements of Herakleitos witnessing to his belief in
the immortality of the individual soul; and it would require such
statements to make us attribute to Herakleitos a conception that, as
everyone admits, is in hopeless contradiction with the rest of his
teaching. He says perfectly plainly that in death the soul becomes
water; and that means that it, as the soul = fire, _perishes_. If
his belief had been anything like that of the mystics (as the
Neoplatonists supposed) he must have regarded death--the liberation
of the soul from the fetters of corporeality and the realm of the
lower elements--as a complete issue of the soul into its proper
element, the fire. Whereas, what he teaches is the opposite of this:
the soul perishes, becomes water, then earth, and then water again,
and finally soul once more (_fr._ 68 = 36). Only in this sense is it
indestructible.]
[20\11: e.g. by Pfleiderer, _Philos. d. Heraklit_, etc., p. 209, and
frequently.]
[21\11: The Sibyl _fr._ 12 = 92; the Delphic Oracle 11 = 93;
Kathartic practices 130 = 5; Bakchoi, etc., 124 = 14.]
[22\11: ~hôuto\s Ha/idês kai\ Dio/nusos~ _fr._ 127 = 15 (and to that
extent--as being reconcilable with the doctrine of Hkl.--may the
Dionysiac mysteries be considered valid: this must be the meaning of
the sentence). On the other hand, we have disapproval of the
~mustê/ria~ carried out ~anierôsti/~ by men: _fr._ 125 = 14 (for the
worshippers do not perceive the real meaning of the ceremonies).]
[23\11: In contrast to the Neoplatonic writers who attributed to
Hkl. a doctrine of the soul like the Orphico-Pythagorean, the
[Plutarchian] account in the _Placita Philos._ is again much nearer
the real meaning of Herakleitos; cf. 4, 7 (where the name of
Herakleitos has fallen out, as can be seen from Theodoret; see
Diels, _Dox._, p. 392; _Vors._ 76, 1) ~. . . exiou=san (tê\n
anthrô/pou psuchê\n) eis tê\n tou= panto\s psuchê\n anachôrei=n
pro\s to\ homogene/s~. Even this is not quite correct as expressing
what Hkl. really thought as to the fate of the soul but it does at
least show once more that the contrary views of the Neoplatonists
are also only _interpretations_, not evidence.]
[24\11: ~Hêra/kleitos êremi/an kai\ sta/sin ek tô=n ho/lôn anê/|rei;
e/sti ga\r tou=to tô=n nekrô=n~. _Dox._, p. 320; _Vors._ 73, 10.
~sta/sis~ and ~êremi/a~ could never make a real "life"--not even a
blessed life far removed from the world--but are signs of what is
"dead", i.e. of what is nowhere to be found in this world, in fact,
Nothing.]
[25\11: Parmenldes' polemic against Herakleitos: l. 46 ff. Mull.;
_fr._ 6, 4 ff. Diels; see Bernays, _Rh. Mus._ vii, 115 (cf. Diels,
_Parm._ 68).]
[26\11: Aristotle (acc. to S.E., _M._ x, 46; _Vors._ 142, 33 ff.)
~aphusi/kous autou\s ke/klêken, ho/ti archê\ kinêseô/s estin hê
phu/sis, hê\n anei=lon pha/menoi mêde\n kinei=sthai~.]
[27\11: Thphr., _Sens._ § 4; _Vors._ 146, 13 f.]
[28\11: ~gegenê=sthai tê\n tô=n pa/ntôn phu/sin ek thermou= kai\
psuchrou= kai\ xêrou= kai\ hugrou=, lambano/ntôn eis a/llêla tê\n
metanolê/n, kai\ psuchê\n kra=ma hupa/rchein ek tô=n proeirême/nôn
kata\ mêdeno\s tou/tôn epikra/têsin~, Zeno ap. D.L. ix, 29; _Vors._
166, 14. The composition out of four elements instead of two as with
Parmenides may have been arrived at by Zeno {395} in imitation of
the "four roots" of Empedokles, each of which was distinguished by
possessing one of the four qualities ~thermo/n ktl.~ The statement
that the ~psuchê/~ arises from the _equal_ mixture of the four
qualities reminds us of Empedokles' account of ~phronei=n~ (_Vors._
218, 1 = 220, 23; Thphr., _Sens._ 10, 23). On the other side, Zeno
takes over and applies to the ~psuchê/~ what the Pythagorean
physician Alkmaion said about ~hugi/eia~ (_Vors._ 136, 1; _Dox._, p.
442; cf. Arist., _An._ 408a, 1): his point of view is almost
identical with that of those Pythagoreans who regarded the "soul" as
made up out of a ~harmoni/a~ of the Cold, the Warm, etc. (see
below). He may have actually got his views from the acquaintance of
Pythagorean physiologists (he was regarded as a "Pythagorean": Str.
252).]
[29\11: Simpl. ad Arist., _Ph._, p. 39 D.; _Vors._ 162, 11; cf.
Diels, _Parm._ 109 f. (1897).]
[30\11: Parmenides pupil of Diochaites the Pythagorean and of
Ameinias, also as it appears a Pythagorean: Sotion ap. D.L. ix, 21;
_Vors._ 138. He was counted a Pythagorean by tradition which,
however, was very free with its attributions of this kind. Call.
_fr._ 100d, 17; Str. 252; _V. Pyth._ ap. Phot., _Bibl._ 249, p.
439a, 37 Bk.; Iamb., _VP._ 267 (with Sch., p. 190 N.). The Pyth.
influence on Parmenides may have been essentially of an ethical
nature: ~eis hêsuchi/an proetra/pê hupo\ Ameini/ou~, D.L. ix, 21.
~Parmeni/deios kai\ Puthago/reios bi/os~ as equivalent: [Ceb.]
_Tab._ 2 fin. Str., p. 252, connects the good government of Elea
with the Pythagorean influence of Parmenides (and of Zeno).
Parmenides law-giver of Elea: Speus. ~p. philoso/phôn~ ap. D.L. ix,
23.]
[31\11: ~philosophi/an de\ prô=tos ôno/mase Puthago/ras kai\
heauto\n philo/sophon~: D.L., _Proem._ 12 (though the rest is from
the fictitious dialogue of Herakl. Pont. see Cic., _TD._ v, 8-9).]
[32\11: Pl., _Rp._ 600 AB.]
[33\11: ~polumathi/ê, histori/ê~ of Pythag.; Herakl. _frr._ 16, 17 =
40, 129. ~pantoi/ôn ta\ ma/lista sophô=n epiê/ranos e/rgôn~ is said
of Pythag. by Emped. (429 Mull.) _fr._ 129, 3.--The Pythagorean
account of the construction of the world was known to Parmenides at
the beginning of the fifth century and imitated by him in several
points: Krische, _Theol. Lehren d. gr. D._ 103 ff. (To what extent
Parmenides in other respects controverted Pythag. doctrine--as has
been recently asserted of him--may be left undecided.) Fanciful
speculations about numbers are attributed to Pythag. himself by
Aristot., _MM._ 1182a, 11 ff.; _Vors._ 347, 3.]
[34\11: Emped. 427 ff. Mull.; _fr._ 129 Diels. That this
_praeconium_ does really refer to Pythag. (as Timaeus and others
supposed) and not to Parmenides (as the undefined ~hoi de/~ of D.L.
viii, 54, thought) appears to be proved by l. 4 ff., which allude to
a remarkable power of ~ana/mnêsis~ which was certainly attributed by
legend to Pythag., never to Parmenides.]
[35\11: ~psuchai/~ filling the whole air, not distinguished from
~dai/mones~ and ~hê/rôes~, Alex. Polyh. ap. D.L. viii, 32; _Vors._^4
i, xliv (who in this section of his account--§§31 ff.--is giving
_older_ Pythagorean ideas. Poseidonios expresses the same ideas; but
it does not therefore follow that he got them from the Stoics.
Poseid. borrowed and elaborated many Pythagorean views). More subtly
expressed: the soul is ~atha/natos~ because it is eternally in
motion like ~ta\ thei=a pa/nta~, the moon, sun, stars, and heaven;
Alkmaion ap. Arist., _An._ 405a, 29 ff.; _Vors._ 133, 40; cf.
Krische, 75 f. The perpetual movement of the ~psuchai/~ was one of
the older Pythag. beliefs: it is expressed in the old fable (known
already to Demokritos) of the motes in the sunbeam, {396} which, in
their continual agitation, are, or enclose, swarming souls (see
below, n. 40). In Alkmaion's treatment of the doctrine there is the
additional idea that the soul of man ~e/oike toi=s athana/tois~. The
derivation of its immortality and divinity from its origin in the
World-soul (this is often said to be a Pythagorean doctrine: Cic.,
_ND._ i, 27; _Sen._ 78; D.L. viii, 28; S.E., _M._ ix, 127) does
indeed suggest Stoic pantheism in the form of its expression but in
substance it may very well go back to the older Pythag. teaching.
(The genuineness of the frag. [21 D.] of Philolaos ap. Stob., _Ecl._
i, 20, 2 ff.; _Vors._ 318, 13, remains, however, dubious.) The idea
that the soul and ~nou=s~ of man came to him from an impersonal
~thei=on~, an all-pervading ~en tô=| panti\ phro/nêsis~, must have
been widespread even in the fifth century. It finds expression in
Xen., _M._ 1, 4, 8-17; 4, 3, 14, where it is certainly not an
original fancy of Xenophon's, but must have been derived by him from
somewhere or other (not from Socrates, however, nor Plato).]
[36\11: ~en phroura=|~, Pl., _Phd._ 62 B. This is traced back to
Pythag. belief (though he misinterprets the meaning of the word
~phroura/~) by Cic., _Sen._ 73; cf. the Pythagorean Euxitheos ap.
Ath. 157 C; _Vors._ 315, 19. See Böckh, _Philol._ 179 ff. (Philolaos
_fr._ 15 [16 Mull.] speaks of the World-soul or God who holds and
contains all things ~en phroura=|~ without mentioning the human
soul: see Böckh, p. 151.) The comparison of life in the body to a
~phroura/~ may very well be Pythagorean; nor is this **prevented by
the fact that it is also Orphic (see above, chap. x, n. 43). This
comparison implies the conception of the earthly life as a
punishment. ~dia/ tinas timôri/as~ the soul is enclosed in the body:
Philolaos _fr._ 14 (23) appealing to ~palaioi\ theolo/goi te kai\
ma/nties~ (cf. Iamb., _VP._ 85, ~agatho\n hoi po/noi . . . epi\
_kola/sei_ ga\r eltho/ntas dei= kolasthê=nai~).--Espinas in _Arch.
f. Ges. d. Philos._ viii, 452, interprets the ~en phroura=|~ of Pl.,
_Phd._ 62, as = "in the cattle-pen" or "sheep-fold"; the idea of God
as the Shepherd of man would then be vaguely present even here (cf.
_Plt._ 271 E; _Criti._ 109 B). It remains, however, to be proved (to
begin with) that ~phroura/~ is ever used in the sense of ~sêko/s~ or
~heirktê/~.]
[37\11: Arist., _An._ 1, 3, p. 407b, 22 ff.]
[38\11: ~hoi en tô=| tarta/rô=|~ terrified by thunder acc. to
Pythag. belief: Arist., _An. Po._ 94b, 32 ff.; ~su/nodoi tô=n
tethneô/tôn~ in the depths of the earth, Ael., _VH._ iv, 17 (perhaps
from Arist. ~p. tô=n Puthagorei/ôn~). Description of the condition
of things in Hades given in the Pythagorean ~Kata/basis eis
ha/|dou~. As in the case of the Orphics this purgation and
punishment in the spirit-world must have belonged to the parts of
the ~Puthago/reioi mu=thoi~ that were quite seriously believed.]
[39\11: ~ekriphthei=san~ (out of the body) ~autê\n (tê\n psuchê\n)
epi\ gê=s pla/zesthai en tô=| ae/ri homoi/an tô=| sô/mati~ (being a
complete ~ei/dôlon~ of the living): Alex. Polyh. ap. D.L. viii, 31.]
[40\11: Arist., _An._ 1, 2, 4, p. 404a, 16 ff.; _Vors._ 357, 1; many
called the ~en tô=| ae/ri xu/smata~ themselves "souls", others ~to\
tau=ta kinou=n~. This may rest on a real popular belief which,
however, has already been partially elevated to a philosophical
standing: the souls are compared to what is evidently itself in
perpetual agitation (Arist., l. 19 f.). This was undoubtedly
Pythagorean (and old Ionic) teaching: see Alkmaion ap. Arist., _An._
405a, 29 ff.; _Vors._ 133, 40. (Statement of _Dox._ 386a, 13 ff., b,
8 ff., is more doubtful.)]
[41\11: D.L. viii, 32; _Vors_^4. i, p. xliv.]
[42\11: That the Pythagoreans believed in the entry of the soul into
the bodies of animals also is implied in the satirical verses of
Xenophanes {397} (_fr._ 6) ap. D.L. viii, 36. All probability
suggests that this was the reason for the injunction to abstain from
flesh food among the older Pythagoreans themselves (and with
Empedokles). (S.E., _M._ ix, 127 ff., however, drags in the
"World-Soul" in a moment of untimely Stoicism. S.E.'s own quotation
from Empedokles shows that the latter at any rate derived the
~apochê\ empsu/chôn~ simply from the fact of Metamorphosis, and not
at all from the ~psuchê=s pneu=ma~ which rules in all life; though
this last is attributed to him by S.E.)]
[43\11: See Appendix x.]
[44\11: According to the Pythagoreans ~to\ di/kaion~ is nothing else
than ~to\ antipepontho/s~, i.e. ~ha\ tis epoi/êse tau=t'
antipathei=n~: Arist., _EN._ 5, 5, p. 1132b, 21 ff.; _MM._ 1194a, 29
ff. (also given with fanciful numerical expression, _MM._ 1182a, 14;
Sch. Arist. 540a, 19 ff.; 541b, 6 Br.; [Iamb.] _Theol. Arith._, p.
28 f. Ast). This definition of justice was simply taken over by the
Pythagoreans from popular sayings such as the verse of Rhadamanthys
ap. Arist., _EN._ about the ~dra/santi pathei=n~ and similar
formulae: see collection in Blomfield's Gloss. in A., _Cho._ 307;
Soph. _fr._ 229 P. Compensatory justice of this kind we may suppose
was manifested in the rebirths of men (in this respect the P. went
beyond the commonplace sense of that ~trige/rôn mu=thos~): we may
assume this without further hesitation if we remember the completely
analogous application of this conception by the Orphics (above,
chap. x, n. 71).]
[45\11: ~Puthago/reios tro/pos tou= bi/ou~, Pl., _Rp._ 600 B.]
[46\11: ~akolouthei=n tô=| theô=|~, Iamb., _VP._ 137 (following
Aristoxenos); _Vors._ 362, 32; ~he/pou theô=|~ Pythagoras ap. Stob.,
_Ecl._ ii, p. 49, 16 W. See Wyttenb. on Plu., _Ser. Num. Vind._ 550
D.]
[47\11: Ancient testimony ascribes to the Pythagoreans: abstinence
from flesh-food or at least from the flesh of such animals as are
not sacrificed to the Olympians (the ~anthrô/pou psuchê/~ does not
enter into the ~thu/sima zô=|a~ in transmigration: Iamb., _VP._ 85;
_Vors._ 359, 13); from eating fish, particularly ~tri/glai~ and
~mela/nouroi~, and beans; from using linen clothing (or being buried
in it: Hdt. ii, 81); and a few other forms of abstinence and
measures assuring ritual purity. The whole apparatus of ritual
~hagnei/a~ is ascribed to the older Pythagoreans by Alex. Polyh. ap.
D.L. viii, 33. This, as a general statement is certainly correct. It
is customary to say that it began among the degenerate Pythagoreans
after the break up of the Italian society (so esp. Krische, _De Soc.
a Pythag. cond. scopo politico_, Gött., 1831). But when Aristoxenos,
the contemporary of the later, scientifically-minded Pythagoreans,
denies all such superstitious ideas and regulations to the original
Pythagoreans, his evidence really applies only to those Pythagorean
_scholars_ with whom he was acquainted and who seemed to him to have
preserved the real spirit of the older Pythagoreanism much more
truly than the ascetic (and in any case degenerate) Pythagoreans of
the same period. Everything, however, goes to show that the strength
of the surviving community as it had been founded by Pythagoras lay
in the religious and mystical elements of its doctrine; and that
what was oldest in Pythagoreanism was what it had in common with the
faith and religious discipline of the Orphics. To this side belongs
what we learn from tradition of the older Pythagorean asceticism.
Much, then, that is of early Pythagorean origin (though certainly
combined with other and later elements) is to be found in many of
the ~akou/smata~ or ~su/mbola~ of the Pythagoreans, esp. in those of
them (and they are numerous) that give directions of a ritual or
merely superstitious kind. A fresh collection, arrangement and {398}
explanation of these remarkable fragments would be very useful:
Göttling's purely rationalist treatment of them does them less than
justice. (Corn. Hölk, _De acusmatis s. symbolis Pythag._, Diss.
Kiel. 1894.)]
[48\11: Efforts in a more positive direction may perhaps be seen in
the practice of the musical form of ~ka/tharsis~ which Pythag. and
the Pythagoreans used in accordance with an elaborate system: cf.
Iamb., _VP._ 64 ff., 110 ff.; Sch. V. on ~Ch~ 391; also Quint. 9, 4,
12; Porph., _VP._ 33, etc.--What Aristoxenos has to say about
Pythagorean ethics, moralistic _parainesis_ and edification--most of
it of a purely rationalist kind--can scarcely be said to have
historical value.]
[49\11: Good formulation of Pythag. belief ap. Max. Tyr. 16, 2, i,
287 R.: ~Puthago/ras prô=tos en toi=s He/llêsin eto/lmêsen eipei=n,
ho/ti hautô=| to\ me\n sô=ma tethnê/xetai, hê de\ psuchê\ anapta=sa
oichê/setai athanê\s kai\ agê/rôs. _kai\ ga\r ei=nai autê\n pri\n
hê/kein deu=ro_~. i.e. the life of the soul is not only endless but
without beginning; the soul is immortal because it is timeless.]
[50\11: The withdrawal of the soul from the ~ku/klos ana/gkês~ and
its return to an emancipated existence as a bodiless spirit was
never so clearly held in view for the "Pure" by the older
Pythagorean tradition as it was among the Orphics (and Empedokles).
It is, however, hardly thinkable that a system which regarded every
incarnation of the soul as a punishment and the body as its prison
or its tomb should never have held out to the true ~ba/kchoi~ of its
mysteries the prospect of a full and permanent liberation of the
soul, at last, from corporeality and the earthly life. Only so could
the long chain of deaths and rebirths reach a final and satisfactory
conclusion. Eternally detained in the cycle of births the soul would
be eternally punished (this is e.g. the idea of Empedokles: 455 f.,
_fr._ 145 D.); and this cannot have been the real conclusion of the
Pythagorean doctrine of salvation. Claud. Mamertus, _de An._ 2, 7
[_Vors._ 320, 12], gives it as a doctrine of Philolaos [_fr._ 22]
that the (pure soul after its separation from the body leads a
"bodiless" life in the "Universe" (the ~ko/smos~ situated above the
~ourano/s~): see Böckh, _Philol._ 177. Apart from this the only
evidence for the withdrawal of the soul is late: _Carm. Aur._ 70 f.
(making use of the Empedok. verses, _fr._ 112, 4 f. = 400 Mull.),
Alex. Polyh. ap. D.L. viii, 31 (~a/gesthai ta\s kathara\s [psucha\s]
epi\ to\n hu/psiston~ "in altissimum locum" Cobet: but an ellipse of
~to/pon~ is hardly admissible. ~ho hu/psistos~ = the highest God
would be a Hebraic form of expression, nor can it be a possible one
here for Alex. Polyh.--we should also, with this meaning of
~hu/psistos~, expect ~pro\s t. hu/.~ ad superiores circulos bene
viventium animae, secundum philosophorum altam scientiam, Serv.,
_A._ vi, 127--should we then supply ~epi\ to\n hu/psiston
~? Or perh. ~epi\ to\ hu/psiston~?)--An escape of the souls
after the expiry of their ~peri/odoi~ must have been known as a
Pythagorean belief to Luc., _VH._ ii, 21. (Vergil, too, is speaking
in a Pythagorean sense, _A._ vi, 744, pauci laeta arva [Elysii]
tenemus.--i.e. for ever without renewed ~ensôma/tôsis~--see Serv.,
_A._ vi, 404, 426, 713. It is true the line is out of its right
place, but there can be no doubt that it reproduces the words and
the--in this section Pythagorean--opinion of Vergil.) The idea that
the cycle of births is never to be broken cannot be regarded as
Pythagorean nor even as Neopythagorean. (A few isolated later
accounts of Pythag. doctrine; e.g. D.L. viii, 14 (from Favorinus),
Porph., _VP._ 19, and also the cursory description in Ov., _M._
xv--with a good deal of foreign matter added--speak of the Pyth.
doctrine of soul-transmigration without also referring to the
possibility of ~ku/klou lê=xai~; but they are not meant to deny that
{399} possibility but merely leave it unmentioned as unnecessary in
the context.) There seems to be no example of a Greek doctrine of
transmigration that did not also include a promise to the ~ho/sioi~
or the ~philo/sophoi~ that they would be able to escape from the
cycle of births (at least for a world-period: as Syrian. took it,
though probably not Porph.). Such a promise, as the consummation of
the promises of salvation therein made, could only be dispensed with
in the case of a doctrine of transmigration in which being born
again was itself regarded as a _reward_ for the pious (as in the
teaching which Jos., _BJ._ 2, 8, 14, attributes to the Pharisees).
By Greek partisans of the doctrine of Metempsychosis rebirth upon
earth is always regarded as a punishment or at any rate a burden,
not as a desirable goal for the life of the soul. We must therefore
presume that the promise of escape from the cycle of rebirth was
made also by the oldest Pythagorean teaching as the final benefit of
its message of salvation. Without this completing touch
Pythagoreanism would be like Buddhism without the promise of a final
attainment of Nirvâna.]
[51\11: Pythagoras is called the pupil of Pherekydes as early as
Andron of Ephesos (before Theopompos): D.L. i, 119; _Vors._ ii, 199,
18. Pherekydes was regarded as "the first" who taught the
immortality of the soul (Cic., _TD._ i, 38) or more correctly
metempsychosis (Suid. ~Pherek.~); cf. Preller, _Rh. Mus._ (N.F.),
iv, 388 f. A hint of such teaching must have been found in his
mystical treatise (cf. Porph., _Antr._ 31; _Vors._ ii, 204,
12--Gomperz is rather too sceptical, _Gk. Thinkers_, i, 542). This
teaching seems to have been the chief reason which tempted later
writers to make the old _theologos_ into the teacher of Pythagoras,
the chief spokesman of the doctrine of the soul's
transmigrations.--It is, however, an untenable theory that Pherek.
illustrated his doctrine of transmigration by the example of
Aithalides. What the Sch. on A.R. i, 645 [_Vors._ ii, 204, 24],
quotes from "Pherekydes" about the alternate sojourn of the
~psuchê/~ of Aithalides in Hades and on earth, does not come from
Pherekydes the _theologos_ (as Göttling, _Opusc._ 210, and Kern, _de
Orph. Epim. Pherec._, pp. 89, 106, think) but without the slightest
doubt from the genealogist and historian; this is the only
Pherekydes who is used by the Sch. of Ap. Rh., and he is used
frequently. Besides this, the way in which the different statements
of the various authorities used in this Scholion are distinguished,
shows quite clearly that Pherekydes had only spoken of Aithalides'
alternate dwelling above and below the earth, but _as still being_
Aithalides, and not as metamorphosed by the series of births into
other personalities living upon earth. Pherekydes was obviously
reproducing a Phthiotic local-legend in which Aithalides as the son
of (the chthonic?) Hermes alternately lived on and below the earth,
as an ~heterê/meros~--like the Dioscuri in Lacedaimonian legend (~l~
301 ff.: in that passage and generally in the older view--as held by
Alkman, Pindar, etc.--_both_ the Dioscuri change their place of
abode together: it is not till later that the variant arose acc. to
which they alternate with each other: see Hemst. _Luc._ ii, p. 344
Bip.). It was Herakleides Pont. who first turned the alternate
sojourning of Aithalides into death and resurrection (he also made
Aithalides one of the previous incarnations of Pythagoras; see
Appendix x); but as a _different_ person, so that A. thus became an
example of metempsychosis. It is not hard to see why Aithalides was
chosen as one of the previous incarnations of P., nor how the old
miracle-story, preserved to literature by Pherekydes, was thus
transformed to suit its new purpose. Plainly Pherekydes did _not_
say that Hermes {400} also gave Aithalides the power of memory after
his death (otherwise the statement to this effect in Sch. A.R. would
have stood under the name of Pherek.); and the privilege was rather
meaningless until after Herakleides' narrative. Perhaps it was Her.
who first added this touch to the story. Ap. Rh. follows him in this
point (i, 643 ff.), but not--or not plainly, at least: 646 ff.--in
what Herakleides had invented about the metempsychosis of
Aithalides.]
[52\11: Macr., _Som. Scip._ 1, 14, 19, attributes this view to
Pythagoras and Philolaos, being certainly correct in the case of the
latter; since the opinion that the soul is a ~kra=sis~ and
~harmoni/a~ of the warm and the cold, the dry and the wet, which go
to make up the body, is given by Simmias in Pl., _Phd._ 86 B, as a
tradition that he has received and not an invention of his own. But
what else can this mean than a tradition handed down in Thebes by
his teacher Philolaos (_Phd._ 61 D)? (Hence ~Harmoni/as tê=s
Thêbaïkê=s~, 95 A.) It is true that Claud. Mam. _de An._ ii, 7, only
attributes to Philolaos the doctrine that the soul is _bound up_
with the body "in eternal and incorporeal harmony"
(_convenientiam_): which would imply an independent substance of the
soul side by side with that of the body. But this must have been a
misunderstanding of the real meaning of Philolaos. Aristoxenos, too,
can only have got his doctrine of the soul as a harmony from his
Pythagorean friends. Perhaps, too, this was the influence which
suggested to Dikaiarchos his view that the "soul" is a ~harmoni/a
tô=n tessa/rôn stoichei/ôn~ (_Dox._, p. 387), and indeed ~tô=n en
tô=| sô/mati thermô=n kai\ psuchrô=n kai\ hugrô=n kai\ xêrô=n~, as
Nemes., _Nat. Hom._, p. 69 Matth., tells us--thus exactly resembling
Simmias in Plato (unless indeed the passage in Nemes. is a mere
reminiscence of Plato strayed here by accident). See also chap. x,
n. 27.]
[53\11: See Pl., _Phd._ 86 CD. Pre-existence of the soul impossible
if it is only an ~harmoni/a~ of the body: 92 AB.]
[54\11: It was in itself almost unavoidable that a community founded
like the Pythagorean mainly on a mystical doctrine but not
ill-disposed to scientific studies, should, as it was extended (and
still followed practical aims) split up into two parties: an inner
circle of qualified teachers and scholars, and one or more groups,
outside and attached to them, of lay members for whom a special
teaching suited for popular comprehension would be provided. Thus
the inner circle of Buddhism, the Bikshu, was surrounded by the
common herd of "worshippers"; and the same can be seen in Christian
monastic organisations. A division, then, of the followers of
Pythagoras into Akousmatikoi and Mathematikoi--Pythagoreioi and
Pythagoristai--etc., is not in itself at all incredible.]
[55\11: The division of the soul, or the ~duna/meis~ of the soul,
into the ~logiko/n~ and the ~a/logon~ was made, before Plato, by
Pythagoras--so we might have learnt, ~autou= tou= Puthago/rou
suggra/mmatos oudeno\s eis hêma=s sôzome/nou~, from the writings of
his followers, acc. to Poseidonios ap. Galen, _de Plac. Hipp. et
Pl._ 5, p. 459 Müll. = v, 478 K.; cf. also 425 K. (_Vors._ 34, 23).
From Poseidonios evidently comes the same opinion in Cic., _TD._ iv,
10. And, in fact, a fragment of Philolaos ~p. phu/seôs~, _fr._ 13
Diels (_Theol. Ar._, p. 20, 35 A.), gives a division of the ~archai\
tou= zô/|ou tou= logikou=~, which depends upon the idea that the
highest living organism contains within itself and makes use of all
the lower organisms as well (~nou=s~ in the head, ~anthrô/pou
archa/--psucha\ kai\ ai/sthêsis~ in the heart, ~zô/|ou
archa\--rhi/zôsis kai\ ana/phusis~ in the navel, ~phutou=
archa\--spe/rmatos metabola/~ and ~ge/nnêsis~ in the ~aidoi=on,
xunapa/ntôn archa/~). Then in the psychical region we have a
division between the ~logiko/n~ {401} and the ~a/logon~ according to
their nature and "seat" in man (~logiko/n~ being made up of
reasoning power, ~nou=s~, specific to man, and sense-perception,
~ai/sthêsis~, which also belongs to the other ~zô=|a~, while the
~a/logon = rhi/zôsis kai\ ana/phusis~ and resembles the ~ai/tion
tou= tre/phesthai kai\ au/xesthai~, or the ~phutiko/n~, a part of
the ~a/logon tê=s psuchê=s~ in Arist., _EN._ 1, 13, p. 1102a, 32
ff.). This evidently represents an attempt at a division of the soul
into ~logiko/n~ and ~a/logon~, such as Poseidonios must have found
carried out by other Pythagoreans. A clear distinction between
~phronei=n (xunie/nai~ and ~aistha/nesthai~ was made by the Pythag.
physician Alkmaion, whose division was at least different from and
more profound than that of Empedokles (with whom he is contrasted by
Thphr., _Sens._ 25; _Vors._ 132, 20). Empedokles did indeed
distinguish between thinking and perceiving, but thinking (~noei=n~)
was only a ~sômatiko/n ti hô/sper to\ aistha/nesthai~ and to this
extent ~tauto/n~ with it (Arist., _An._ 3, 3, p. 427a, 21). Alkmaion
cannot, therefore, have made ~xunie/nai sômatiko/n~. These
Pythagoreans were on the way to separating from the soul as a whole
a separate, thinking soul that required no sense-perception for its
thought, the ~nou=s~. To this latter alone would divinity and
immortality be ascribed, as in later philosophy (and thus _Dox._
393a, 10, though unhistorically and prematurely, gives ~to\ logiko\n
[tê=s psuchê=s] a/phtharton~ as a doctrine of "Pythagoras").--It is
certainly difficult to see how Philolaos' doctrine of the
distinction between the ~anthrô/pou archa/~, the ~nou=s~--an element
of the soul belonging exclusively to men--and the ~zô/|ou archa/~
(confined to ~ai/sthêsis~ and ~psucha/~, power of life) could
possibly be reconciled with the older Pythagorean doctrine of the
soul's transmigration. Acc. to that belief the soul wanders through
the bodies of animals as well as men, and the idea implies the view
that the _same_ soul could inhabit animals as well as men; that, in
fact, ~pa/nta ta\ geno/mena e/mpsucha~ are ~homogenê=~ (Porph.,
_VP._ 19; cf. S.E., _M._ ix, 127). Philolaos, on the contrary, holds
that the soul of man is differently constituted from the souls of
animals--the latter lack ~nou=s~ (it is not merely that its efficacy
is hindered in animals by the ~duskrasi/a tou= sô/matos~ as is said
wrongly to be the opinion of Pythag. by _Dox._ 432a, 15 ff.). The
same difficulty arises again in the case of Plato's doctrine of
transmigration.--Alkmaion who ascribes ~xunie/nai~ to man alone
seems not to have held the transmigration doctrine.]
[56\11: 401 ff. Mull.; _fr._ 112, 5 Diels.]
[57\11: 462 ff. _fr._ 111.]
[58\11: Satyros ap. D.L. viii, 59; _Vors._ 195, 26.--Especially
famous was his feat of driving away adverse winds from Akragas (cf.
_fr._ 111, 3); see also Welcker, _Kl. Schr._ iii, 60-1.--The asses'
skins with which Emped. kept the north winds away from Akragas were
at any rate intended as _apotropaic_ materials--magic means of
driving away spirits. In the same way protection against hail and
lightning is obtained by hanging up the skin of a hyena, a seal,
etc. (see _Geop._ i, 14, 3-5; i, 16, and Niclas' notes there). These
skins ~e/chousi du/namin antipathê=~: Plu., _Smp._ 4, 2, 1, p. 664
C.--Other magic charms against hail--the ~chalazophu/lakes~, Plu.,
_Smp._ 7, 2, 2, p. 700 F; Sen., _NQ._ 4b, 6.]
[59\11: ~. . . egô\ d' humi=n theo\s a/mbrotos, ouke/ti thnêto/s,
pôleu=mai meta\ pa=si tetime/nos ktl.~ 400 f. (_fr._ 112, 4 f.).]
[60\11: A late echo is to be found in the inspired lines of
Lucretius in praise of Empedokles, i, 717 ff.]
[61\11: The well-known story of Empedokles' leap into the crater of
Mt. Aetna--intended by his complete disappearance to call forth the
belief that he had not died (Luc., _DM._ xx, 4), but had been
_translated_ {402} alive--is a parody of a serious translation
legend and presupposes the existence of one. The parodists' version
was contradicted early by Empedokles' follower, the physician
Pausanias: D.L. viii, 69 (this does not come from the fabulously
conceived narrative of Herakleides Pont. It does not follow, from
the epigram quoted by D.L. viii, 61, _fr._ 156; _AP._ vii, 508, that
Paus. died before Emped.; the authorship of that ep. is uncertain
and in any case it is not very worthy of credit). The seriously
intended legend must then have arisen soon after the disappearance
of Empedokles: it was founded upon the fact that no one did know
where Emp. had died (~tha/natos a/dêlos~, Timaeus ap. D.L. viii,
71), or could point to the grave which covered his remains. (This is
expressly stated by Timaeus, who, in other respects, contradicts the
translation-fable as well as the story of the leap into Mt. Aetna:
D.L. viii, 72. In the face of this no importance need be attached to
what some one--Neanthes apparently--states ap. D.L. viii, 73; that
there was a grave of Emped. at Megara.) Free elaboration was given
to the translation story by Herakleides Pont. ~p. no/sôn~: D.L.
viii, 67-8 (in return, his philosophic rivals contemptuously applied
a malicious story of feigned translation to Herakleides himself, who
in this way wished to legitimize his own claim to be god or Hero:
D.L. v, 89 ff. From other sources comes Suid. ~Hêrakl.
Euthu/phronos~; cf. Marx, _Griech. Märchen v. dankb. Thieren_, p. 97
ff.). All kinds of stupid variations of the story of Empedokles' end
ap. D.L. viii, 74.]
[62\11: See above, chap. ii, and p. 129.]
[63\11: Cf. 113 ff.; _fr._ 9.]
[64\11: ~sarkô=n chitô/n~, 414, _fr._ 126.]
[65\11: His treatment of the woman who seemed to be dead (~a/pnous~,
D.L. viii, 60) has quite the appearance of a psychophysical
_experiment_; one, however, that was intended to prove the
correctness of precisely the irrational side of his doctrine of the
soul.]
[66\11: ~gui/ôn pi/stis~ is distinguished from ~noei=n~ in v, 57
(_fr._ 4, 13), and ~no/ô| de/rkesthai~ from ~de/rkesthai o/mmasin~
in 82 (_fr._ 17, 21); cf. ~ou/t' epi/derkta ta/d' a/ndrasin ou/t'
epakousta/, ou/te no/ô| peri/lêpta~, 42 f. (_fr._ 2, 7).--Elsewhere
it is true that Emped. (who throughout avoids prosaic exactitude in
the use of technical terms) uses ~noê=sai~ as simply =
sense-perception following epic idiom: e.g. 56 (_fr._ 4, 12; but it
is not quite correct to say that Emped. ~to\ phronei=n kai\ to\
aistha/nesthai tauto/ phêsi~, as Arist. declares: _An._ 427a, 22).]
[67\11: 378 ff.; _fr._ 109: ~gai/ê| me\n ga\r gai=an opô/pamen~,
etc. (~hora=n~ is here used in its widest sense, ~ei=dos anti\
ge/nous~, and = ~aistha/nesthai~. Thus, ~no/ô| de/rkesthai~ in 82
[17, 21] = ~aistha/nesthai~, and very commonly words denoting one of
the modes of perception are used instead of those of another
~ei=dos~, or for the whole ~ge/nos~ of ~ai/sthêsis~. Lob., _Rhemat._
334 ff.).]
[68\11: 372 ff. Mull.; _fr._ 105: ~hai/matos en pela/gessi . . .
tê=| te no/êma ma/lista kukli/sketai anthrô/poisin; hai=ma ga\r
anthrô/pois perika/rdio/n esti no/êma~.--The blood is the seat of
~to\ phronei=n; en tou/tô| ga\r ma/lista kekra=sthai ta\
stoichei=a~, Thphr., _Sens._ 10, 23 f.]
[69\11: A kind of ~suggumnasi/a tô=n aisthê/seôn~ as the physician
Asklepiades defines the idea of the ~psuchê/~ (_Dox._ 378a, 7).--It
resembles what Arist. calls the ~prô=ton aisthêtê/rion~.--This
function which Emped. calls ~phronei=n~ would probably be the
~henopoiou=n~ of the perceptions which Aristot. found wanting in
Emp. (_An._ 409b, 30 ff.; 410a, 1-10; b, 10).]
[70\11: ~to\ noei=n~ is ~sômatiko\n hô/sper to\ aistha/nesthai~,
Arist., _An._ 427a, 26.]
[71\11: Arist., _Metaph._ 1009b, 17 ff.]
[72\11: 298 Mull.; _fr._ 110, 10: ~pa/nta ga\r i/sthi phro/nêsin
e/chein kai\ nô/matos hai=san~. The ~pa/nta~ must be understood
quite literally; for it is the {403} elements in which the powers of
perception inhere (~he/kaston tô=n stoichei/ôn psuchê\n ei=nai~ is
the opinion attributed to Emped. by Arist., _An._ 404b, 12). But
elements are present in the mixture of all things, and thus stones,
etc., have ~phro/nêsis~ and a "portion of mind" in them (though the
statement that it is ~hai/ma~ that first produces ~phro/nêsis~ will
not square with this: Thphr., _Sens._ 23). Emped. attributed
complete sensation and perception to plants, and even gave them
~nou=s~ and ~gnô=sis~ (without blood?): [Arist.] _Plant._ 815a, 16
ff.; b, 16 f. That is why they, too, are capable of harbouring
fallen daimones.]
[73\11: Emped. himself does not use the word ~psuchê/~ at all in the
fragments that have been preserved to us; and it is hardly probable
that he himself would have used the term of the psychical faculties
of the body even if he regarded these as gathered together to a
substantive unity. Later authorities, on the other hand, in their
accounts of the doctrine of Emped. give the name of ~psuchê/~
precisely to these "somatic" intellectual faculties; thus Arist.,
_An._ 404b, 9 ff.; 409b, 23 ff.: ~hai=ma phêsin ei=nai tê\n
psuchê/n~, Gal., _Hipp. et Pla._ 2 = v, 283 K.; cf. Cic., _TD._ i,
19; Tert., _An._ 5.]
[74\11: 113-19 Mull.; _frr._ 11, 15, do not (as Plu., _adv. Col._
12, p. 1113 D, understood them) teach the pre-existence and
persistence after death of the psychic powers within the world of
the elements, but merely speak of the indestructibility of the
elements that are the component parts of the human body, even when
the latter has suffered dissolution.]
[75\11: ~a/tês leimô/n~, _fr._ 121, 4 (21 Mull.; cf. 16) is the name
given by Empedokles to the earth; and not to Hades (as has been
supposed), of which--as an intermediate place of purgation between
two births--there is nowhere any mention in his verses. That the
~aterpê\s chô=ros~ (_fr._ 121, 1) to which Emped. is cast down, the
realm of ~Pho/nos ktl.~ (_fr._ 121) and the ~A/tês leimô/n~, all
refer to the _earth_, ~ho e/ggeios to/pos, ta\ peri\ gê=n~, is
expressly stated by Themistios, _Or._ 13, and Hierocl. _in C. Aur._
24 (_fr._ 121), p. 470 Mull. [_FPG._ i]; Synes. also implies it
(_Ep._ 147, p. 283 C; _Prov._ i, 89 D); the same is distinctly
implied for _fr._ 121, 4, and by Jul., _Or._ vii, 226 B; Philo, ii,
p. 638 M.--Procl., _in _Crat.__, p. 103 Boiss., connects _fr._ 121,
3, ~auchmêrai/ te no/soi kai\ sê/psies e/rga te rheusta/~
immediately with _fr._ 121, 2, and both lines acc. to him apply to
~ta\ hupo\ tê\n selê/nên~; i.e. not to any kind of underworld but to
the region of the earth (cf. Emp. ap. Hippol., _RH._ i, 4; _Vors._
210, 27; _Dox._ 559). The idea that Hades is being spoken of in
these lines is a view peculiar to moderns who have misunderstood the
poet and set aside the clear testimony of Themistios and the rest.
Maass, _Orpheus_, 113, speaks as though the interpretation in favour
of Hades rested upon a tradition which I "contradicted". On the
contrary, that interpretation is itself contradicted by definite
tradition and by common sense (for Emp. falls from Heaven to earth
and not, please God, to Hades!). The view is quite baseless (though
Maass himself finds in the ~e/rga rheusta/~ of _fr._ 121 [20
M.]--the inconstant, transitory works of men upon earth--a support
for his Hades-view: these "fluid works" or things are, he thinks,
nothing else but the stream of filth, the ~skô\r aei/nôn~, in Hades
of which pious invention rumoured: certainly an ingenious
interpretation). Emp. is, in fact, the first to regard this earthly
sojourning as the real Hell--the ~asunê/thês, aterpê\s chô=ros~
(_fr._ 118, 121, 1, the latter a parodying reminiscence of ~l~ 94)--
an ~a/ntron hupo/stegon~ (_fr._ 120) filled with all the plagues and
terrors of the original Hades (121). Stoics and Epicureans (see
below) took up the idea after him and elaborated it in detail. The
daimones that are shut up in this life here below--a ~zôê\ a/bios~
(_fr._ 2, 3)--are as if dead: {404} _frr._ 125 (?), 35, 14. The
Orphic idea of the ~sô=ma--sê=ma~ (see above, p. 345) was thus
thoroughly and energetically carried out. (Macr., _in S. Scip._ 1,
10, 9 ff., attributed the idea that the _inferi_ are nothing else
but the material world of earth to the old _theologi_ (§ 17) who, he
says, lived _before_ the development of a philosophic science of
nature.)]
[76\11: 3 Mull.; _fr._ 115, 3: ~eu=te/ tis (tô=n daimo/nôn)
amplaki/ê|si _pho/nô|_ phi/la gui=a miênê|~. He means ~brô=sis
sarkô=n kai\ allêlophagi/a~ as Plu. paraphrases it, _Es. Carn._ 1,
p. 996 B (for this must always imply acc. to Emp. the "murder" of a
spirit of the same race: _fr._ 136). Even for God it is a crime to
taste of a meat ("blood")-offering and, in fact, there were only
bloodless offerings made in the Golden Age (which was described by
Emp. not in the ~Phusika/~--the principle of which work denied that
there had ever been such a period--but in some other poem in which
he left his philosophic doctrine out of account; perhaps the
~Katharmoi/~): 420 ff. M; _fr._ 128, 3 ff.]
[77\11: _fr._ 115, 4. The earth then becomes the place of their
banishment and punishment for gods that have broken their oath. This
is a version of the impressive picture in Hes., _Th._ 793 ff. _Dei
peierantes_ were punished for nine years (cf. Hes., _Th._ 801) in
Tartaros: Orpheus (not Lucan in his "Orpheus") ap. Serv., _A._ vi,
565. (To this also alludes the poet from whose elegiac verses came
the frag. ap. Serv., _A._ vi, 324: ~tou=~ [sc. ~Stugo\s hu/datos]
stugno\n pô=ma kai\ athana/tô|~: this is probably how the words
should be read.) So that instead of the "underworld" or Tartaros,
the world is for Emp. the worst place of sorrows. From Emp. is
derived the conception that the realm of the _inferi_ is our world,
that inhabited by men, and that there is no other, nor any need of
another ~ha/|dês~--a conception often alluded to and improved upon
by Stoic and other semi-philosophers (esp. clear in Serv., _A._ vi,
127, often only in allegorical sense: Lucr. iii, 978 ff. [See also
Bevan, _Stoics and Sceptics_, p. 107.]).]
[78\11: 30,000 ~hô=rai~: which means probably "years" (hardly
"seasons" as Dieterich, _Nekyia_, 119, takes it). The figure 30,000
has no special meaning (e.g. 300 periods of a life-time each): it is
merely a concrete phrase for "innumerable" (and is frequent: Hirzel,
_Ber. sächs. Ges. d. Wiss._ 1885, p. 64 ff.). This enormous period
of time is the divine counter-part, as measured by divine standards
of time, of the ~me/gas eniauto/s~, the _ennaëteris_ during which
the earthly murderer had to fly from the land of his violent deed.
The fiction of Emp. clearly shows the influence of this expiation of
murder by ~apeniautismo/s~.]
[79\11: _fr._ 121 (22 ff.).]
[80\11: ~argale/as bioi/toio keleu/thous . . . ~ _fr._ 115, 8 (8).]
[81\11: Emp. does not even use the word ~psuchê/~ of these
~dai/mones~ confined within corporeality. They are so named,
however, regularly and without qualification by the later authors
who quote verses from the _Prooimion_ of the ~Phusika/~, Plutarch,
Plotinos, Hippolytos, etc.]
[82\11: Peculiar to Emp. is the attempt to give actual details of
the crimes for which the spirits are condemned to ~ensôma/tôsis~;
and also the extension of metempsychosis to plants (which is
occasionally attributed, but by late authorities only, to the
Pythagoreans as well).]
[83\11: The entirely unpurified seem not to have been condemned to
everlasting punishment in Hades, of which in general he shows no
knowledge, by Emp. (as by the Pythagoreans sometimes). He merely, it
seems, threatens them with ever-renewed rebirth upon earth and the
impossibility of ~to\ ku/klou lê=xai~ (until the complete ascendency
of ~phili/a~). This appears to be the meaning of _fr._ 145 (455 f.)
from the way in which Cl. Al., _Protr._ ii, 27, p. 23 P., cites the
lines.] {405}
[84\11: As we may paraphrase--though indeed here, too, only with
reservations--the ~kako/tês~ and ~kako/têtes~ of Emp. _fr._ 145 (454
f.).]
[85\11: _frr._ 136-7, 128, 9 f. (424, 440). Very remarkable in a
thinker of such an early period is what is said (_fr._ 135) about
the ~pa/ntôn no/mimon~ which forbids ~ktei/nein to\
e/mpsuchon~.--Apart from this we have other vestiges of _kathartic_
rules: purification with water drawn from five springs: _fr._ 143
(see Append. v); abstention from the eating of beans (_fr._ 141) and
of laurel leaves (_fr._ 140). The laurel is sacred as a magic plant,
together with the ~ski/lla~ (see App. v) and ~rha/mnos~ (see above,
chap. v, n. 95). Cf. _Gp._ 11, 2, etc. Its special sacredness gives
the laurel its importance in the cult of Apollo. Emp. (like
Pythagoras) seems to have paid special honour to Apollo: it appears
from something that is said ap. D.L. viii, 57, that he wrote a
~prooi/mion eis Apo/llôna~: the exalted conception of a divinity
that is pure ~phrê\n hierê/~ in abstraction from all
sense-perception, elaborated by Emp. in _frr._ 133-4, was regarded
by him as applying particularly ~peri\ Apo/llônos~ (Amm. in Arist.,
_Interpr._ 249, 1 ed. Brand. 135a, 23).]
[86\11: In fanciful ways: _fr._ 127 (lion, laurel), 448 Mull.]
[87\11: _fr._ 146 (457) ~pro/moi~ being used probably with intention
as a vague term: regal power would hardly have seemed to possess
special merit to the democratically minded Emp. He hardly knew it in
any form but the tyrannis and to this he showed himself an energetic
opponent (even though the violent language of Timaeus, the enemy of
tyrants, is not to be taken quite literally). He himself was offered
royal power, but he refused it with contempt as one who was ~pa/sês
archê=s allo/trios~: Xanthos and Arist. ap. D.L. viii, 63; _Vors._
196, 10. He might all the same (and rightly) regard himself in
political matters, too, as one of the ~pro/moi~; it is plain that in
the enumeration of those who were ~eis te/los~ born as ~ma/nteis te
kai\ humnopo/loi kai\ iêtroi/, kai\ pro/moi anthrô/poisin
epichthoni/oisi pe/lontai~, and were never to be born again, he
includes himself especially, and, in fact, takes himself as the
model of this last and highest stage upon earth. He himself was all
these things simultaneously.]
[88\11: _frr._ 146-7 (459 ff.) ~e/nthen anablastou=si theoi\
timê=|si phe/ristoi, athana/tois a/lloisin home/stioi, e/n te
trape/zais~ (read ~_e/n te tra/pezoi_~--a tmesis, = ~entra/pezoi/
te); eu/nies andrei/ôn ache/ôn, apo/kêroi, ateirei=s~.]
[89\11: Emped. perhaps described himself as "god" also in _fr._ 23,
11 (144) ~alla\ torô=s tou=t' i/sthi~ (he is speaking to Pausanias),
~_theou= pa/ra_ mu=thon akou/sas~. See Bidez, _Biogr. d'Emp._, p.
166 (1894)--unless these words would be better taken as an
abbreviated comparison (with omission of ~hôs~): "as certainly as if
you had received these words from a god."]
[90\11: As Plu. is inclined to do: _Exil._ xvii, p. 607 D.]
[91\11: As several modern critics have attempted to do.]
[92\11: _fr._ 17, 30 (92).]
[93\11: See above, chap. i, pp. 4 ff.]
[94\11: As late again as Plotinos, who speaks of the ~ditto\n en
hêmi=n~: the ~sô=ma~ which is a ~thêri/on zô|ôthe/n~ and the
~alêthê\s a/nthrôpos~ distinct from it, etc. (1, 1, 10; 6, 7, 5).]
[95\11: At any rate Emp. spoke of the ekstasis, the _furor_ which is
an _animi purgatio_ and to be entirely distinguished from that which
is produced by _alienatio mentis_ (~phronei=n alloi=a~, _fr._ 108):
Cael. Aur., _Morb. Chron._ i, 5, p. 25 Sich. = _Vors._ 223. A
special ~enthousiastiko/n~ in the soul as its ~theio/taton~ (part):
Stoics (and Plato) acc. to _Dox._ 639, 25. A special organ of the
soul which effects the union with the divine, being the ~a/nthos
tê=s ousi/as hêmô=n~, is mentioned in Proclus (Zeller, _Phil. d.
Griech._^2 iii, 2, 738).] {406}
[96\11: ~to\ ho/lon~, the whole reality of Being and Becoming in the
world, cannot be comprehended by man through his senses nor even
with ~nou=s~: _fr._ 2 (36-43). But Empedokles has in his own
persuasion grasped it; he is situated ~sophi/ês ep' a/kroisi~ (_fr._
4, 8), ~autê\n epagge/lletai dô/sein tê\n alê/theian~ (Procl., _in
Ti._ 106 E. Proclus declares that the words ~sophi/ês ep'
a/kroisi~--and this is a further point--are meant to apply to Emped.
himself. (I do not quite understand Bidez' doubts about what is said
here, and in what follows: see _Archiv. f. Gesch. d. Phil._ ix, 203,
42.) Whence, then, did the poet obtain this knowledge of the truth
since it is revealed neither to the senses nor to the ~nou=s~? At
any rate, the ~psuchopompoi\ duna/meis~ (Porph., _Antr._ 8), who
conducted his soul-daimon out of the region of the gods, say to the
soul (_fr._ 2, 8): ~su\ d' ou=n epei\ hô=d' elia/sthês~ (i.e. "since
you have been cast up here--on the earth"--not "since you have so
desired it", as Bergk, _Opusc._ ii, 23, explains: which would be a
distorted idea expressed in distorted language)--~peu/seai ou ple/on
êe\ brotei/ê mê=tis ho/pôpen~ (thus with Panzerbieter, for
~o/rôre~). According to this we must suppose that his more profound
knowledge (insight into the ~mi=xi/s te dia/llaxi/s te mige/ntôn~ of
the elements, together with knowledge of the destiny and purpose of
the soul-daimones, etc.), which he cannot have got on earth or in
his earthly body must have been brought with him out of his divine
past-life. This knowledge is then peculiar to the daimon (or
~psuchê/~ in the older sense) that is buried in the body; and Emp.
presumably owes it to an _~ana/mnêsis~_ of his earlier life (a
faculty that is only rarely active). From what other source could he
have got his knowledge of his previous ~ensômatô/seis~ (_fr._ 117)?
He has even farther and more profound knowledge than he dares
communicate--_fr._ 4 (45-51), and says quite plainly that he is
keeping back in piety a last remnant of wisdom that is unsuited for
human ears (to this extent the authorities--~a/lloi d' ê=san hoi
le/gontes~--of S.E., _M._ vii, 122--have rightly understood
him).--The belief in a miraculous power of _~ana/mnêsis~_ that goes
beyond the present life of the individual may have been derived by
Emp. from Pythagorean doctrine or mythology. Emp. himself follows
the legend of the Pyth. school and attributes such a power of
recollection to Pythagoras: ~ho/ppote ga\r pa/sê|si . . .~ _fr._ 129
[430 ff.]. See Append. x. The eager development--indeed, the
cult--of the ~mnê/mê~ in Pythagorean circles is well known. The
invention of the myths describing the fountain of Mnemosyne in Hades
may also be Pythagorean (see below). Throughout the various
~ensômatô/seis~ of the soul it is the undying ~mnê/mê~ that alone
preserves the unity of personality which (as the ~psuchê/~) lives
through all these transformations and is bound together in this way.
It is evident how important this idea was for the doctrine of
transmigration (it occurs also in the teaching of Buddha). Plato,
like Empedokles, seems to have got the idea of an _~ana/mnêsis~_
reaching beyond the limits of the present life from the
Pythagoreans: he, then, it is true, developed the idea in connexion
with his own philosophy to unexpected conclusions (cf. further,
Dieterich, _Nekyia_, 122).]
[97\11: ~phili/a~ is for him (not indeed in his words but in his
intention as Arist. understood him): ~aiti/a tô=n agathô=n, to\ de\
nei=kos tô=n kakô=n~, _Metaph._ 985a, 4 ff.; 1075b, 1-7. Hence the
~êpio/phrôn Philo/têtos amemphe/os a/mbrotos hormê/~ (_fr._ 35) is
contrasted with ~Nei=kos maino/menon~ (115, 14), ~oulo/menon~ (17,
19), ~lugro/n~ (109). The ~sphai=ros~ in which only ~phili/a~
prevails while ~nei=kos~ is completely vanquished, is called
~moni/ê| periê/rgeï gai/ôn~, _fr._ 27, 28.] {407}
[98\11: ~theoi\ dolichai/ônes~ (_frr._ 20, 12, 23, 8). Exactly the
same is said of the ~_dai/mones_ hoi/te bi/oio lelo/gchasi
makrai/ônos~ (115, 5). In the face of these expressions, so
definitely setting a period to the lifetime of the gods, we must
suppose that the epithets which Emp. applies to himself--he is to be
in the future ~theo\s a/mbrotos ouk e/ti thnêto/s~, 112, 4--are
merely intended to assert that he shall not die any more in his
incarnation as a man (the same thing must be meant when those who
are delivered from the circle of rebirth are called ~apo/kêroi,
a/teirei=s~ (147); the gods are only called ~a/thanatoi~ by
traditional convention). Plutarch also, _Def. Or._ 16, p. 418 E,
distinctly states that the ~dai/mones~ of Emp. eventually die. That
the gods (but not ~to\ thei=on~ itself) were liable to extinction had
already been the opinion of Anaximander and Anaximenes. Acc. to Emp.
the individual ~dai/mones~ would be reabsorbed into the universal
divinity, the ~sphai=ros~ (just as the individual deities of the
Stoics are reabsorbed at the world-conflagration into Zeus who is
alone indestructible). [= ll. 131, 141, 461, 460 M.]]
[99\11: Emp., _frr._ 133, 134 (389-96), speaks of a supersensual
divinity that is entirely ~phrê\n hierê/~: he gives to this divinity
the name of Apollo, but the description is said to apply ~peri\
panto\s tou= thei/ou~. Hipp., _RH._ vii, 29, p. 386 D.-S., refers
the description to the ~sphai=ros~. The ~sphai=ros~, in which no
~nei=kos~ is left was called by Emp. ~ho theo/s, ho eudaimone/statos
theo/s~ (Arist., _An._ i, 5, 410b, 5-6; _Metaph._ ii, 4, 1000b, 3).
It is, however, certain that Emp. would not have **regarded the
~sphai=ros~ as pure ~phrê\n hierê/~. It appears, in fact, that in
the ~sphai=ros~, in which everything is together and united, even
the divine power thought of as supersensual is brought to a close.
In the world-state of multiplicity caused by ~nei=kos~ divinity
seems to be regarded as separate from the elements and the forces.
"Furious conflict" (115, 14) then attacks even the divinity and
divides it against itself; hence the origin of individual
~dai/mones~ as a self-caused division of the divine, a desertion
from the One ~thei=on~--the individual ~dai/mones~ are ~phuga/des,
theo/then~ (115, 13). These individual ~dai/mones~ are entangled in
the world from its origin until at last, having become purified,
they rise again to the heights of divinity; and when all
individuality is again fused into one by ~phili/a~ they return once
more into the universal divinity in order with it to enter into the
~sphai=ros~.--Thus we may perhaps reconstruct the Empedoklean
fantasy. His lines do not supply sufficient evidence for the
complete reconstruction of his picture of the perpetually recurring
process. We should naturally expect a certain obscurity to cling to
this attempt to fuse together physiology and theology.]
[100\11: Lucr. iii, 370-3.]
[101\11: All that is essential on the subject of Demokritos'
doctrine of the soul is to be found in Arist., _An._ i, 2, p. 403b,
31-404a, 16; 405a., 7-13; i, 3, p. 406b, 15-22; _Resp._ iv, p. 471b,
30-472a, 17.--The air is full of the particles which Demokritos
calls ~nou=s~ and ~psuchê/~: _Resp._ 472a, 6-8 [_Vors._ ii, 36]. The
atoms hovering in the air become visible as "motes in the sunbeam";
of these some are the soul-atoms (this must be the meaning of _An._
404A, 3 ff.; Iamb. ap. Stob., _Ecl._ i, p. 384, 15 W., is only
drawing upon Arist.). This is a modification of the opinion held by
the Pythagoreans (mentioned also by Arist. 404a, 16 ff.) that the
motes in the sunbeam are "souls" (see above, chap. x, n. 34).
Inhalation of the world-stuff as a condition of life in the
individual is imitated from Herakleitos (see S.E., _M._ vii, 129).]
[102\11: The soul acc. to Dem. ~ekbai/nei me\n tou= sô/matos, en de\
tô=| ekbai/nein diaphorei=tai kai\ diaskeda/nnutai~, Iamb. ap.
Stob., _Ecl._ i, p. 384, 16 f. W.] {408}
[103\11: Dem. ~phthartê\n (ei=nai tê\n psuchê\n) tô=| sô/mati
sundiaphtheirome/nên~, _Dox._ 393a, 8 [_Vors._ A 109]. Since the
disruption of the soul-atoms is not effected at a single blow death
may, in consequence, sometimes be only apparent; i.e. when many but
not all the soul-particles have escaped. For this reason also, with
the possible re-assemblage of the soul-atoms, ~anabiô/seis~ of the
apparently dead may occur. Cases of this kind seem to have been
treated in the work ~peri\ tô=n en Ha/idou~: see Procl., _in _Rp.__
ii, 113, 6 Kr.; D.L. ix, 46; it is counted among the most famous, or
at least the most popular of Dem.'s writings in the anecdote ap.
Ath. 168 B; cf. [Hp.] _Ep._ 10, 3, p. 291 Hch. [ix, 322 Lit.];
_Vors._ 55 C, 2. This view of the retention of vitality, of course,
only applies to the period immediately following the (apparent)
death (it is fairly correctly represented by [Plu.] _Plac. Ph._ 4,
4, 4 [_Dox._ 390], it was probably attributed to Dem. on account of
a similar observation made by Parmenides; see above, p. 373).
Nevertheless, out of it grew up the assertion, which was then
attributed to Dem., that in fact ~ta\ nekra\ tô=n sôma/tôn
aistha/netai~: e.g. Alex. Aph. in Arist., _Top._ 21, 21; [_Vors._
ii, 38, 8]; Stob., _Ecl._ i, p. 477, 18 W. In the case, at least, of
those that are really "dead", i.e. of bodies that have been deserted
by all the soul-atoms, Dem. certainly never taught the presence of
~ai/sthêsis~: against the vulgarization of his opinions that would
attribute such a view as this to him (as Epicurus himself did) the
_Democritici_ spoken of by Cic. (_TD._ i, 82) made their
protest.--The work ~peri\ tô=n en Ha/idou~ can certainly not have
confined itself to considerations of a purely physical nature;
otherwise Thrasyllos (D.L. ix, 46) could not have classified it
among the ~_êthika\_ bibli/a~ of Dem. [_Vors._ ii, 19]. It is,
indeed, difficult to imagine what from Dem.'s point of view there
could have been to say about "the things in the Underworld". It is
hardly possible to suppose (as Mullach, _Dem. fr._, pp. 117-18, and
Heyne do) that Dem. would think himself obliged either to answer or
to parody the fabulous inventions of the poets about the realm of
shadows. It is difficult to be certain that Dem. was really the
author of the work: the forgery of later times was particularly fond
of turning the most clear-headed of materialists into a mage and a
jack-of-all-trades. (Dem.'s observations of the possibility of
~anabiou=n~ is in part at least the origin of the writing ~p. t. en
ha/|dou~; it is also responsible for the anecdote that makes him
promise to the Persian king that he will restore his dead wife to
life again, etc.--a variation of an ingenious story widely spread
both in the East and the West. See my Lecture on Greek
Novel-writing: _Verh. der Philologenvers. zu Rostock_, 1875, p. 68
f.)--The "fragmenta moralia" of Dem. are with rare exceptions (e.g.
Mull. _frr._ 7, 23, 48, 49, etc. = 146, 159, 147, 127 D.) wholesale
fabrications of the feeblest kind. One of them, however (119 Mull.,
297 D.), agrees at least with what Dem. may very well have said
about the punishments in Hell (though in rather different words--he
was incapable of quite such a monstrosity as ~muthoplaste/ontes~,
which sounds very late Greek. Vain efforts have been made to justify
this ~muthoplaste/ô~ by reference to the older ~muthopla/stês~. But
~muthopoio/s, odophu/lax, arguroko/pos~, etc., are also old, and it
is no secret that verbs derived by further extension from such
composite verbal nouns are mostly late formations: thus
~muthopoie/ô, odophulake/ô, argurokope/ô~, and again ~petrobole/ô,
hierophante/ô, teknoktone/ô~, etc.). In another of these _falsa_ no
echo even of Dem.'s thought is to be found: _fr. moral._ 1 Mull.
[171 D.] ~psuchê\ oikêtê/rion dai/monos~.]
[104\11: Dem., whose inquiries set out from the study of inorganic
nature, {409} was led to predicate a mechanical obedience to law in
organic nature as well. Anaxagoras starting from the study of
organic nature and in particular of man, its highest development,
derived from that study the concept of purpose--purpose consciously
undertaken and carried out--and this idea affected his outlook upon
the whole of nature, including inorganic nature. This teleological
system, regarded as of universal application, is made by him to
depend on a Being modelled upon the human mind, the only source, in
fact, from which he could have derived his experience of action
carried out in accordance with pre-arranged purpose.]
[105\11: Cf. here and on what follows, Heinze, _Ber. d. Sächs. Ges.
d. Wiss._ 1890, pp. 1 ff.]
[106\11: ~nou=s~ must be omniscient if it ~gnô/mên peri\ panto\s
i/schei~ (_fr._ 6 M. = 12 D.). It has organized (~dieko/smêse~) not
only what was and is but also what is to be: _frr._ 6, 12 [12, 14
D.].]
[107\11: Arist., _Ph._ 256b. 24 ff.]
[108\11: ~ho ga\r nou=s~ (of Anaxag.) ~hei=s~: Arist., _Metaph._
1069b, 31. On the other hand, ~chrê/mata a/peira plê=thos~: Anaxag.
_fr._ 1.]
[109\11: ~Anaxago/ras phêsi to\n nou=n koino\n outhe\n outheni\ tô=n
a/llôn e/chein~. Arist., _An._ i, 2, p. 405b, 19 ff.; cf. iii, 4, p.
429b, 23 f.]
[110\11: Anaxag. _fr._ 6 [12]: ~ta\ me\n a/lla panto\s
moi=ran mete/chei, no/os de/ esti a/peiron kai\ autokrate\s kai\
me/miktai oudeni\ chrê/mati, alla\ mou=nos auto\s eph, heôutou=
esti. (a/peiron~ does not seem to supply the required opposition to
what proceeds: ? ~haplo/on~. Anaxag. used the word of ~nou=s~ acc.
to Arist., _An._ 405a, 16; 429b, 23. Zeller also suggests
~haplo/on~, _Archiv f. G. d. Philos._ v, 441.)]
[111\11: ~ho/sa psuchê\n e/chei, kai\ ta\ me/zô kai\ ta\ ela/ssô,
pa/ntôn no/os _krate/ei_; kai\ tê=s perichôrê/sios tê=s sumpa/sês
no/os ekra/têse, ô/ste perichôrê=sai tê\n archê/n~, _fr._ 6 [12].
This ~kratei=n~ at the beginning of the ~perichô/rêsis~ cannot at
any rate take place by the inter-mixture of ~nou=s~ in the
~spe/rmata~ or by the entry of ~nou=s~ into these. Because ~nou=s~
is both ~apathê/s~ and ~amigê/s~s, it ~kratoi/ê a\n _amigê\s_ ô/n~,
Arist., _Ph._ 256b, 27; cf. 429a, 18. Does this also apply to
~nou=s~ when it ~tô=n psuchê\n echo/ntôn krate/ei~? And yet in this
case it appears to be divided, as ~mei/zôn~ or ~ela/ttôn~ in each
case, in the ~zô=|a~.--No one can help being reminded here of the
insoluble _aporiai_ raised in Aristotle's own doctrine of the active
~nou=s~ which, in this case too, is ~apathê/s, amigê/s, chôristo/s~
from the body; is also deprived of all attributes of individuality
(which reside entirely in the lower psychical powers) and thus
appears as a common divine spirit. And yet it is said to be a
~mo/rion tê=s psuchê=s~, present ~en tê=| psuchê=|~, dwelling inside
the body yet having nothing in common with it, and in any case is
thought of as an individual mind. In the case of Anaxagoras the same
_aporiai_ apply also to the nourishing, feeling, desiring, and
moving soul (as it is called by Arist.); for all the "parts" of the
soul are included almost indistinguishably by him under the
conception of ~nou=s~.--The difficulty of reconciling the unity and
inward continuity of the spiritual (immaterial, that cannot be
thought of as divided)--with its individuation and distribution into
the multiplicity of souls, is one which repeatedly occurs in Greek
philosophy.]
[112\11: ~dia\ pa/ntôn io/nta~, Pl., _Crat._ 413 C.]
[113\11: ~en panti\ panto\s moi=ra e/nesti plê\n no/ou; e/sti hoi=si
de\ kai\ no/os e/ni~, _fr._ 5 [11].]
[114\11: ~no/os de\ pa=s ho/moio/s esti kai\ ho me/zôn kai\ ho
ela/ssôn~, _fr._ 6 [12].]
[115\11: Arist., _An._ i, 2, p. 404b, 1-7: Anaxag. often gives ~to\n
nou=n~ as ~to\ ai/tion tou= kalô=s kai\ orthô=s; hete/rôthi de\~ (he
says) ~_tou=ton ei=nai tê\n psuchê/n_; en ha/pasi ga\r hupa/rchein
auto\n toi=s zô/|ois, kai\ mega/lois kai\ mikroi=s {410} kai\
timi/ois kai\ atimote/rois~ (in which case the ~nou=s~ that dwells
within all the ~zô=|a~ cannot be any longer regarded as ~ho kata\
phro/nêsin lego/menos nou=s~). Anaxag. had expressed himself
indistinctly: ~hê=tton diasaphei= peri\ autôn~ (i.e, the relation
between ~nou=s~ and ~psuchê/~). Cf. 405a, 13 f. In the sense of the
words as used by Anaxagoras ~nou=s~ and ~psuchê/~ were simply
identified by Plato: _Crat._ 400 A.]
[116\11: D.L. ii, 8 [_Vors._ 375]. Acc. to Anaxag. the moon has
~_oikê/seis_ (alla\ kai\ lo/phous kai\ pha/raggas~). _Fr._ 10 [4]
probably refers to the men and other ~zô=|a~ in the moon (to whom
yet another moon gives light). Anaxag. ~tê\n selê/nên gê=n phêsi\n
ei=nai~ (i.e. an inhabitable heavenly body like the earth), Pl.,
_Ap._ 26 D; cf. Hippol., _R.H._ i, 8, 10, p. 22, 40 D.-S.--We are
reminded of the Orphico-Pythagorean fantasies about life on the moon
(see above, chap. x, n. 76).]
[117\11: Anaxag. counted the plants as ~zô=|a~ and ascribed emotions
to them: ~hê/desthai kai\ lupei=sthai~ [Arist.] _Plant._ 815a, 18.
Like Plato and Demokritos Anaxag. also regarded plants as ~zô=|a
e/ggeia~: Plu., _QN._ 1, 911 D.]
[118\11: In spite of its entry into ~chrê/mata, nou=s~ is yet said
to remain "unmixed" and unaffected by them: ~autokra/tora ga\r
auto\n o/nta kai\ oudeni\ memigme/non pa/nta phêsi\n auto\n kosmei=n
ta\ pra/gmata dia\ pa/ntôn io/nta~, Pl., _Crat._ 413 C. We thus have
at the same time ~dia\ pa/ntôn io/nta~ and denial of mixture which
is reiterated in stronger and stronger language. Thus ~nou=s~ even
so remains still ~eph' heôutou= (ei mê\ ga\r eph' heôutou ê=n,
_a/llô|_ te/ô| eme/mikto a/n; metei=che de\ a\n hapa/ntôn chrêma/tôn
ei eme/mikto/ teô|; en panti\ ga\r panto\s moi=ra he/nesti ktl.~ So
perhaps we should read _fr._ 6 [12] restoring a completed syllogism.
In the traditional text the clause ~ei eme/mikto/ teô|~ is
superfluous and in the way). It takes no particle of the others into
itself.]
[119\11: [Plu.] _Plac. Phil._ 5, 25, 2 (Aët., _Dox._ 437; _Vors._
397, 18), in the chap. ~pote/rou esti\n hu/pnos kai\ tha/natos
psuchê=s ê\ sô/matos~; Anaxag. taught: ~ei=nai de\ kai\ psuchê=s
tha/naton to\n diachôrismo/n~. Nothing else can be meant by the
words--the theme of the chapter alone shows it--than: the death of
the soul (as well as of the body) occurs with its separation (from
the body). ~to\n diachôrismo/n~ is subject and ~ei=nai tê=s psuchê=s
tha/naton~ predicate of the sentence (not the other way round as
Siebeck seems to think: _Ges. d. Psychol._ i, 285). The violent
alteration proposed by Wyttenbach (_de immort. animi_, **_Opusc._ ii,
597 f.) has not the smallest justification: ~ei=nai de\ kai\ to\n
tha/naton psuchê=s diachôrismo\n kai\ sô/matos~. There could have
been no reason at all in appealing specially to Anaxagoras for a
confirmation of the popular conception of death (it would be nothing
more). Further, in this particular connexion such a definition of
death is quite out of place; since the theme of the chap. is only to
ask the question whether death also affects the soul, not what it
is. ~psuchê/~ here must mean the individual soul, not the ~nou=s~
which is the basis of the individual souls. Anaxag. made the
individual soul perish at death--so much is certain. It must be
admitted that we cannot say for certain whether the Placita are
referring to an actual utterance of Anaxag. or are only drawing
conclusions from his teaching.]
[120\11: _fr._ 17 [17].]
{{411}}
CHAPTER XII
THE LAY AUTHORS
Theology and Philosophy, each in its own way attempting to go beyond
inadequate popular belief, could only very gradually transcend the
limits of those narrow communities within which their influence was
first felt and reach the circles in which that popular belief held
sway. During the earliest successes of the theological and
philosophical spirit hardly a voice was raised that might have
suggested that the belief in the imperishability and divine nature
of the human Soul, of the inherence of all things spiritual in one
imperishable, fundamental substance, might become something more
than a mystery known to the wise and illuminated, and enter into the
convictions of the people and the unlearned. "After the death of the
body, the Image of Life remains alive; for that alone is descended
from the gods"--such is the announcement of Pindar. But for all the
confidence with which, as though anticipating no contradiction, he
here proclaims the view of the soul's immortality and bases it upon
its divine nature, such an opinion can at that time have been no
more than the persuasion of isolated communities formed and
instructed in that particular doctrine. It cannot be merely
accidental,[1\12] that in the fragments which have come down to us
of the lyric and semi-lyric (elegiac and iambic) poetry--poetry
intended for a wide and unspecialized public and expressing feelings
and ideas in language that all could understand--hardly a trace
appears of that enhanced conception of the worth and nature of the
Soul. Reflexion does not linger over such dark subjects; whenever
they are illuminated for a passing moment, we discern the outlines
of those figures from the spirit world just as the Homeric
imagination had given them shape.
Life and light are only to be found in this world;[2\12] Death, to
which we are all "owing",[3\12] leads the soul into a realm of
nothingness.[4\12] Inarticulate, voiceless, the dead man lies in the
grave like a statue.[5\12] Upon earth, and not in any shadowy
hereafter, is completed that judgment[6\12] which divine Justice
passes upon the criminal himself, or upon his descendants in whom
something of him still lives on. It is the lack of such descendants
that forms the bitterest pang, as he goes down to Hades, of the man
who passes childless out of this life.[7\12] {412}
More distinctly and bitterly, in this age of advancing civilization
and growing sensibility, sounds the wail over the pain and
affliction of life, the obscurity of its ways, and the uncertainty
of its outcome.[8\12] Silenos, the prophetic wood-spirit, so went
the ancient legend, when captured by King Midas in his rose-gardens
at Bermios earned his release with the judgment of melancholy wisdom
that the Greek was never tired of repeating in ever-varying
forms--not to be born is the best thing for men, but having been
born, let him pray that he may return as soon as possible to the
kingdom of Night,[9\12] and of Hades.[10\12] The cheerful enjoyment
of life is no longer so sure of itself as once it had been in the
days of its naïve confidence: and yet there is no substitute
attempted, no compensatory hereafter in a next world of justice and
untroubled happiness. We rather hear the opinion expressed that rest
is the greatest of all earthly blessings; and rest is brought by
Death. Nevertheless there is little demand for consolation; a robust
and virile sense of life that can put up with whatever may befall of
evil or hardship in healthy indifference, is in the air, and speaks
to us from many a page of this poetic legacy with unpretending
veracity. No attempt is made to smooth over the hardship and cruelty
of life. Man's power is small, his efforts go unrewarded, one
necessity after another besets his short life: over all alike hangs
the shadow of inevitable death. All things come at last to the awful
chasm--the bravest virtue and the highest authority in the
world.[11\12] Yet life is good and death an evil; else, why do the
blessed gods not die? asks Sappho[12\12] with feminine naiveté;
though indeed, her life's path had lain through the deepest valley
of the shadow. Even the dead man, if he wishes to be preserved from
utter nothingness, must depend upon the world of the living as the
only place of reality; the fame of his virtues and his deeds is all
that outlasts his death.[13\12] Perhaps some dim perception of that
fame reaches even to the dead.[14\12] They themselves are for the
living as though they had passed into nothingness; we should not,
thinks a poet, give them another thought after we have buried
them.[15\12]
Here even the time-honoured conventions associated with the cult of
souls seem to be perversely cast aside. In general, the poet with
his wide-ranging observation of mankind had small occasion to be
reminded of the cult of the soul that the narrow circles of family
or city offered to their dead, or of the conceptions thereby
encouraged of the continued life enjoyed by the departed. The
omission is supplied by the Orators of the fifth and fourth
centuries and by what they say--and do {413} not say--of the state
of things hereafter. The greatest period of lyric poetry was by that
time already fading into the past, and yet whoever wished in
speaking before a citizen assembly to meet with general agreement
and understanding was still obliged to refrain from speaking of the
blessed immortality, the eternity and divinity of the soul. The
Orators[16\12] never pass beyond the conceptions of the survival,
power, and rights of the souls of the departed which were called
forth and maintained in existence by the cult of the soul. The
continued existence of the souls in the next world is not called in
question; but the opinion that the souls still preserve their
consciousness and have any knowledge of what happens on this earth
is only expressed with the most cautious avoidance of
definiteness.[17\12] What--apart from the sacrificial offerings of
their relatives--still binds the dead to the life upon earth, is
little more than the fame accorded to them among the living.[18\12]
Even in the elevated language of solemn funeral orations the
consolations offered to the survivors omit all mention of any
enhanced state of being, any thought of immortal life in
fully-conscious blessedness, that might belong now to the glorious
departed.[19\12] Such high visions and hopes for the future were
still, it appears, as little necessary or demanded for the comfort
of the people as they had been in the times of the great wars of
liberty.[20\12] The beloved dead who had given their lives for their
country in those wars, as well as many others of the time whom death
had overtaken, were the recipients of the epitaphs composed by
Simonides the master of brilliant and condensed inscriptions.
Nevertheless, not once does he vouchsafe a word that might point
forward to a land of blessed immortality for the departed. There is
a vestige of life still remaining for the dead--but it is in this
world; the memory of the living and their own great name honoured by
after generations is all that can prolong their existence.
It seems like an echo from another world when (about the middle of
the fifth century) Melanippides the dithyrambic poet addresses a god
in the words: "Hear me Father, marvel of all mortal men, Thou that
rulest over the _everliving Souls_." The words must be addressed to
Dionysos;[21\12] for such as entered into the magic circle of his
nightly festival those visions of the imperishability of the human
soul and its divine power acquired reality. Such wisdom received but
partial assent from those who lived unaffected by the conceptions of
isolated sects of the theologically or philosophically minded. {414}
§ 2
A peculiar position is taken up by Pindar. Two contrasted views of
the nature, origin, and destiny of the soul seem to be combined in
his mind with equal claim to authority.
In the Victory Odes allusions predominate which imply an agreement
with the popular view expressed in the sayings of poets and the
presuppositions of the cult of souls and the worship of Heroes.
After its separation from the body, the soul disappears into the
underworld.[22\12] The piety and affectionate memory of relatives
and descendants remains as a link between the dead and the
living;[23\12] whether the soul itself is still conscious of any
connexion with the world of the living seems uncertain.[24\12] Its
power is over and done with--it is certainly no condition of blessed
happiness into which it has entered. Only the glorious name, the
fame that is honoured in song, rewards the great deeds of the
virtuous after death.[25\12]
An exalted state of being, after their departure from this earth, is
attributed to the _Heroes_ alone. The belief in the existence,
importance, and power of these illuminated spirits holds complete
sway;[26\12] it emerges in lively reality from the words and
narrations of the poet throughout all his work. Moreover, the
ancient conception--in reality rendered untenable by the belief in
Heroes--that only with the undivided union of body and soul is
complete life imaginable, is discernible in many allusions and
stories of Translation that imply that conception. Amphiaraos, the
most illustrious of those who have been translated to everlasting
life, is specially dear to the heart of the Theban poet, and is
glorified more than once in the language of unaffected faith in such
miracles.[27\12] But, further, even when death has occurred in the
meantime, elevation to a higher life remains possible--even beyond
the heights of the "Hero". Semele lives for ever, though she died
under the crash of the thunder-bolt.[28\12] The barrier between men
and gods is not insuperable; we can distantly approach the immortals
not only in greatness of mind, but in bodily vigour.[29\12] One
mother gave birth to both races, though the gulf between them is
indeed a deep one; man is nought--a shadow's dream-image; for the
gods the brazen heavens remain for ever as an unconquerable
stronghold.[30\12] Only a miracle of divine interference with the
lawful and normal course of nature, can raise the individual soul to
the everlasting life of the gods and Heroes.
Such visions as these could be indulged in by one who still {415}
kept his feet firmly fixed upon the ground of popular belief. And
yet side by side with them in Pindar's works are to be found
descriptions of quite another order in which is expressed, with
elaborate fullness and dogmatic exactitude, a complete doctrine of
the nature, destiny, and fate of the soul; passages in which, in
spite of some little poetic licence in detail, a well ordered and,
in the main, consistent whole is pictured.
The Soul, the "Image of Life", the other Self of the living and
visible man, sleeps while the limbs of man are active; when the
individual is asleep it shows him dream-visions of the
future.[31\12] This psyche[32\12] which during the waking and
conscious hours of the man is itself lying in the darkness of
unconsciousness, is far from being the totality of mental powers
gathered together in a single creature, or at any rate, in a single
concept, such as the philosophers as well as the everyday use of the
word at that period understood by the name "psyche". Here, again,
the name once more denotes the double of mankind dwelling within the
living man such as it was known to primeval popular belief and to
the Homeric poems. A theological meaning has, however, been added to
it. This "Image" of man, we are told, "is alone descended from the
gods," and with this the _reason_ also is discovered why the
soul-image alone after the destruction of the body by death remains
alive.[33\12]
Derived from the gods and therefore eternally exempt from
destruction, everlasting and immortal, the soul is none the less
condemned to finiteness; it dwells within the mortal body of man.
This is the result of the "ancient guilt" of which, quite in the
manner of theological poetry, Pindar also speaks.[34\12] After the
death of the body it is to await in Hades the stern sentence that
"One" shall pronounce over its earthly deeds.[35\12] For the
condemned there is in store "affliction past beholding"[36\12] in
deep Tartaros, "where the slow rivers of murky night spit out
endless darkness," and forgetfulness encloses the victims.[37\12]
The just enter into the subterranean places of bliss where the sun
gives them light when he has set upon earth.[38\12] In flowery
meadows they enjoy an existence of resplendent idleness, such as
only the Greek imagination, nourished amid the artistic surroundings
of Greek life, could describe without falling into emptiness and
futility.
But the soul has not even so found its last resting place. It must
again give life to a body and not until it has completed upon earth
a third faultless life can it hope for an end of its earthly course
of being.[39\12] The conditions of each new life {416} upon earth
depend upon the degree of purity that the soul has achieved in its
previous lifetimes. When at last the Queen of the Underworld
considers that its "ancient guilt" has been atoned for, she sends
forth the souls after the ninth year[40\12] of their last sojourn in
Hades once more to live in the upper world, this time in happiness.
Here they pass through one more lifetime as kings, mighty men of
valour, and Wise Men.[41\12] Then at last they escape from the
necessity of earthly rebirth. As "Heroes" they are honoured among
men;[42\12] and they have therefore entered into a state of higher
being which the popular belief of Pindar's time ascribed not only to
the souls of the great ancestral figures of the past, but also to
many who had departed hence in more recent times after a life of
valour and service.[43\12] Now they are beyond the reach of Hades as
much as of the world of men. Faith seeks them in "Islands of the
Blest" far out in Okeanos; thither, to the "Citadel of Kronos" they
travel on the "Way of Zeus"[44\12] and enjoy, in company with the
great ones of the past, under the protection of Kronos[45\12] and
his assessor Rhadamanthys, a life of bliss for ever undisturbed.
Such conceptions of the origin, fortunes, and ultimate destiny of
the soul, the more they diverge from commonly held opinions, the
more certainly must they be regarded as being part of the private
and real persuasion of the poet himself. The poet, who on other
occasions when he makes passing and casual reference to the things
of the next world accommodates himself to the traditional view,
gives himself up willingly to such hopes and aspirations where the
circumstances of his song provided an opportunity of dealing at
length with such matters--especially in hymns of mourning for the
dead. He may have paid attention in such poems to the special
opinions of those who were to be the first hearers of his song.
Theron, the ruler of Akragas, to whom was dedicated the second
Olympian Ode of Victory that deals so fully with the hope of bliss
to come, was an old man whose thoughts might well be occupied with
the life after death.[46\12] In this case, therefore, we may presume
perhaps the special interest of the person whose praises are sung in
these reflections that lead so far away from the commonly accepted
view of the Soul.[47\12] But that Pindar, proud and self-willed,
conscious of specific knowledge and proud of that consciousness,
should have given expression to strange doctrine so foreign to
popular ideas simply out of complaisance to another's will, and in
**subservience to another man's belief--that is quite unthinkable.
It is rather the substance of what he believes himself {417} and has
achieved by his own struggles that in a solemn hour he reveals for a
moment to like-minded friends.
The different elements out of which Pindar has composed his special
view are not hard to distinguish. He is following theological
doctrine in what he tells of the divine origin of the soul, its
wanderings through several bodies, the judgment in Hades, the
special place assigned to the just, and that of the wicked. But it
is layman's theology that he is propounding; it does not bind itself
to a single unalterable formula, and betrays throughout that its
exponent is a poet. Pindar, throughout the whole of his poetic
activity, combines the office of singer with that of professional
teacher, more especially where he has to speak of the things of an
invisible divine world. But for all his didactic professionalism he
remains the poet, for whom as depository and trustee of the Myth it
is out of the question to abandon the traditional, whether in legend
or belief. His task is to keep pure what has been handed down to
him, to make it more profound, perhaps to supplement and complete
it, but with all this to justify it. Thus, poetic legend and popular
belief enter even into his theologian's doctrine of the Soul; the
Islands of the Blest, the elevation of man to Hero--these were
things he could not give up.
From what particular direction Pindar's theological interests may
have come to him we cannot say with precision or certainty. Orphic
as well as Pythagorean doctrines may have come to his notice in
Sicily whither he made repeated visits after 477 B.C.[48\12] For
both sects this country was the original nursery and breeding
ground.
There, too, the poet may perhaps have (even at that date) met with
certain varieties of the Orphic mystical doctrine which, like his
own views, were intermingled with elements taken from conventional
mythology. Examples of this type of Orphic mysticism allied with
foreign elements are the verses which, inscribed upon gold tablets,
were found not long ago in graves near the ancient Sybaris.[49\12]
Three of these poems begin with phrases that are common to them all,
and imply the same underlying conceptions; after that they part
company and represent two different views. The soul of the dead
person[50\12] thus addresses itself to the Queen of the lower world,
and the other gods of the depths below: "I draw near to you purified
and born of pure parents."[51\12] It belongs then to a mortal who,
like his parents before him, has been "purified" in the sacred
mysteries of a religious association.[52\12] It claims also to be
descended from the blessed race of the deities of the lower {418}
world.[53\12] "Lightning robbed me of life," so one of the versions
goes on,[54\12] "and so I escaped from the Circle, the burdensome,
the grievous". In these words purely Orphic belief is expressed: the
Soul has now at last escaped entirely from the "Circle of
Births",[55\12] and it enters as it tells us "with speedy feet into
the wished-for precinct",[56\12] and buries itself in the bosom of
the Queen of the Underworld.[57\12] It is the latter, probably, who
at the end greets the liberated soul with the words: "Fortunate and
to be called Blessed art thou; now shalt thou be, instead of a
mortal--_a god_."
Much less exalted are the hopes expressed in the other two versions
of the mystic document--two versions that resemble each other in
most essentials. Here the soul asserts that it has done penance for
unrighteous deeds; now it appears before the revered Persephoneia to
implore her graciously to send it to the dwelling places of the pure
and the holy.[58\12]
How are we to explain the discrepancy? It would indeed be possible
to explain the more restrained version as that of a sect whose
members were less confident of their own divine origin and of the
necessary return of the soul at last to its enfranchised divine
state. It is much more probable, however--since in fact the
presupposition of the divine nature of the soul and its kinship with
the divine is really made in both cases and with the same
words--that we here have to do with the beliefs of one and the same
sect, and that the varying heights of felicity aspired to correspond
to different stages of the process of redemption. He who through
participation in the sacred mysteries has atoned for the ancient
guilt, can be admitted by the goddess into the paradise of the blest
in the midst of Hades. But he must still, in subsequent rebirths
upon earth first complete the cycle before he can be fully released
from rebirth and become once more what he was at the beginning,
entirely a god. The dead man of the first tablet has reached the
final goal of his pilgrimage; the other two have only reached an
intermediate resting place.[59\12] Another inscription, found in a
grave of the same neighbourhood,[60\12] by its use of a mystic
formula[61\12] appended also to the first version of the
above-mentioned poems, reveals itself as an expression of faith
deriving from the same sect. Among a variety of disconnected
instructions and appeals to the dead,[62\12] strung together with no
particular arrangement, it contains the following statement: "a
_god_ hast thou become instead of a mortal", This then always
remained the crowning point of the salvation promised by the sect.
{419}
In the cult and beliefs of this sect which thus with divided voice
speaks to us in these verses, the worship of the ancient Greek
divinities of the Underworld (among whom Dionysos is not this time
included) was fused with the boldest conception belonging to the
Dionysiac mysteries: the confident assurance that the divine nature
of the soul must in the end break through, purified and triumphant
over the earthliness that obscured it. Pindar in another, but not
very different, way has brought the same elements into conjunction.
One would indeed like to be able to estimate the influence which his
doctrine, which lay so close to his own heart, may have exercised on
the hearers and readers of his poems. He was at once something more
and something less than a theological teacher. Never again among the
Greeks did the blessed life of the sanctified soul receive such
majestic expression, clothed in such ample and resplendent diction,
as that which poured so freely from the heart of this richly gifted
poet. But though the poet may have touched the heart of his hearer
and tempted his imagination to stray along the path laid out for
him, yet it cannot have been easy (and perhaps the greatness of the
poet's triumph almost made it harder) permanently to mistake the
magic gleam of poetry for the sunlight of reality. One may doubt
whether the poems in which Pindar recounted his dreams of future
blessedness can have found many hearers in whom they awakened not
merely æsthetic satisfaction, but belief in the literal truth of the
teaching, in the reality of those beautiful, dim, haloed figures.
§ 3
But perhaps by the expression of such doubts we do less than justice
to the influence which a Greek poet might exercise upon the minds
and dispositions of his hearers. Greek popular opinion was very much
inclined to place the poet on a pedestal to which his modern
representative would hardly care to aspire, and to which at any rate
he could never attain. The purely artistic value and importance of a
poem did not seem to be impaired by the demand that it should at the
same time instruct and edify. The poet was to be the teacher of his
people in an age when, in the conditions of Greek life, the people
had no other instructor. He was to be a teacher in the highest sense
of all when, speaking in the language of the most exalted poetry, he
dealt with the doubts and certainties of religion and the
relationship between religion and morality. In these matters he
could supplement out of the wealth of {420} his own far-reaching
reflection what was lacking in the public morality of the time
through the absence of an official, authoritative religious Book. By
giving them intelligible and memorable expression, together with
greater cohesion and unity, he could strengthen the foundations of
the common stock of moral ideas that had been evolved in the course
of social and city life. He might also expand and give greater depth
to the ideas of popular morality, tempering them in the fire of his
own more rigorous thought and interpreting and refining them from
the heights of a more elevated understanding of the divine. What he
thus gave back to the people stamped with the impress of his own
very personal temperament and outlook, no longer remained the casual
opinion of a single individual, but took root in suitably
constituted minds and became for many a valued possession, an
enduring addition to their consciousness.
It was not until the rise in later times of a fully developed
philosophy extending its range of interpretation to the whole of
life that poetry was deprived of its special office of instructress
to the aspiring minds among the people.[63\12] Poetry had always
been willing to exercise this function, but never so decidedly or
with such fully conscious purpose as in the times of transition at
the beginning of which Pindar lived--the transition from an
unsophisticated faith in the traditional view of all things visible
and invisible to a fresh stabilization of belief secured by, and
resting upon, philosophic conviction. The need felt for the
readjustment or verification of the ancestral or traditional forms
of belief was vividly awakened, and it was still only poetry that
could extend the light of its teaching to illuminate the minds of
whole classes of the population. The influence of the poets must
have increased in proportion as the numbers increased of those who
were ready to receive the special bounty which they were able to
offer. But if the influence wielded by Pindar, the Pan-Hellenic poet
of the great Festivals, as the teacher of his people was, as we have
seen, considerable, a very wide field indeed for the propagation of
fruitful ideas lay open to the Attic tragedians in the huge
concourse of the people which flocked together to hear their
creations--a multitude which seemed all the greater for being
confined within a narrower space. The poets themselves frequently
allow it to be seen how seriously they regarded themselves as the
teachers of their public, and the people admitted their claims. All
men expected and demanded instruction from the word of the poet--the
highest instruction from the highest poetry.[64\12] We shall not be
much mistaken {421} if we believe that the opinions and reflections
to which Aeschylus, Sophokles, and not least Euripides, gave
utterance in their tragic drama did not remain the sole property of
those in whose minds they had first arisen.
§ 4
The Attic Tragedy of the fifth century must of its own accord, even
if the conscious purpose of the dramatists had not tended in the
same direction, have developed into an artistic product based on
psychological interest. The real theatre of that drama must
inevitably have become the interior of its hero's mind.
The tragic poet attempted something hitherto unknown. The characters
and events of ancient legend or history which had passed shadowlike
before the minds of the hearers or readers of all earlier poetry, at
the mercy of those hearers' own private and variously limited
imagination--these same events and characters were now to take form
and body and appear visibly before the eyes of all beholders alike
in equal clearness. What had hitherto seemed a dream-vision of the
imagination now visibly presented itself to the eyes of the
beholder, unchanging, precise, independent of the limitations of
intellect among the audience, a concrete and self-moving object of
waking perception. Thus reawakened to a palpable and fully realized
life, the myth was seen in a new light. What in it was mere incident
became subordinated to the personality of the man who plays his part
in these events before our eyes, and whose importance and content is
not exhausted in the single particular action. The old legend in
becoming drama has undergone an extension both spatial and temporal,
and even in externals the plot that unfolds itself in a series of
momentary acts plays the least part in the story. The speeches and
counter-speeches of the hero and the other actors who take part in
the story were bound to take up the greater part of the time.
Motives of action, expressed, debated and fought out in words,
become more important than their eventual outcome in passionate deed
or mortal woe. With the advance of artistic skill the intellect
seeks to grasp the permanent outlines of the character that in the
given circumstances can be moved by particular motives to particular
acts. Thus, the complete materialization of the myth leads to its
complete spiritualization. The eyes and mind of the beholder are
directed less to the external events--these, being familiar from the
ancient legend, could {422} awaken little curiosity--and more to the
inward meaning and import of what the hero does and suffers.
And it was here that the dramatic poet was faced with his special
and peculiar problem. What was to happen in his drama was settled
out of hand by the course of the ancient legend (in a few cases by
the course of historical events) and the lines along which his
invention must move were planned out for him in advance. To give
life to the personages of the drama, motivation and justification to
the events of the drama--that was his particular business. But in
this he was thrown entirely upon his own resources. Even if he could
he was not permitted to derive the inner motive forces of the action
from the real modes of feeling and thinking that had belonged to the
distant past in which the myth had first been conceived. Such
motives would have remained unintelligible to the audience, and his
play would have been stillborn. But on the other hand, how was he to
make plausible and intelligible to the vastly different mentality
and changed feelings of the age in which he lived actions which
really sprang from the habits and moral ideas of a long since
vanished age? It is open to him (if he is not content to be a mere
annalist simply stringing together bare events) to take the actual
incident given him by the mythical legend and set over against it
the actor in the story whose emotions are those of a modern man, and
upon whose shoulders the burden of the event is laid; he may
represent this opposition as beyond reconciliation, and so lead to
the most simple and overwhelming of tragic conflicts. This simple
opposition of character and destiny which places both the poet and
his hero--another Hamlet--in a position of direct hostility to the
mythological background can, however, never become the rule. It is
the business of the poet as far as possible to assimilate and make
his own the spirit that actually called forth the dark and cruel
legend of the past, while yet remaining true to the mode of
perception proper to his own time. He must manage to leave
undisturbed the full primitive sense of the mythical story and bring
it about that by its marriage with the spirit of a later age its
meaning is not destroyed but deepened. He is committed to the search
for an adjustment between the mental attitudes of an older and a
newer age.
Such an adjustment came most easily to Aeschylus and satisfied the
needs of his temperament. As one who had grown to manhood in the
Athens of the period before the Persian wars his own character had
its roots in ancient and traditional modes of thought. These he
built up under the guiding {423} influence of his own special ways
of thinking and feeling into a new and loftier whole: to corroborate
this whole, which appeared to him as a law of the moral world, by
reference to typical examples taken from mythology--examples chosen
by him with deliberate care to serve as subjects of his dramatic
poetry--this was one of the chief aims of his art. To the plot in
its moral--nay, its religious--sense, all his thoughts are directed;
the characters of the actors themselves are only illuminated from
the standpoint of this special interest; their wider, independent
existence outside the life of the drama which completely **envelops
them is not meant to draw attention to itself. He himself gives us
the right, in studying his plays, to leave out of sight for a moment
the representational aspect of the particular and the personal--all
that in fact makes them essentially works of art--in order to
observe more closely the under-current of generalized belief which
we may reasonably call the ethic and theology of the poet.
Behind the living tissue of his artistic creation Aeschylus allows
us to perceive pretty clearly the firm outlines of his own ethical
and religious convictions. He fuses together elements prescribed to
him from without with that which was dictated by his own spirit.
What is prescribed to him by legend--which he allows to run its full
course, in strictly dramatic form and by preference as a trilogy, a
form in this case uniquely adapted to the subject--is a history that
deals with the continued operation of the forces of evil and
suffering upon several generations of a family, persisting from
father to son and from son to son's son. The belief also in such
interconnexion of human destinies is prescribed to him from without.
That the sins of the ancestors were visited upon their descendants
here upon earth was an ancient article of faith especially strong in
Attica.[65\12] What Aeschylus contributes on his part is the
unswerving conviction that the son and grandson of the sinner are
punished for their _own_ sin too. Suffering is punishment,[66\12]
and suffering would not have overtaken Oedipus, nor the sons of
Oedipus, if Laïos had been the only guilty one--if their own sin had
not deserved punishment.
And yet it does not lie within their power to choose whether the
guilt shall be theirs or not: they cannot escape the deed of sin.
How, we may ask, can a guilty deed be necessitated, imposed upon the
guilty one by the decree of a higher power, and yet at the same time
the _fault_ of the doer of the deed, as though he had acted of his
own free will? {424} The question is a perplexing and a formidable
one, and it was by no means unnoticed by the poet. Behind the
external apparatus of myth he finds himself faced by the problem of
the freedom or determination of man's will, which, as civilization
and culture advance, feels itself morally responsible for every
decision. He finds a way out of the difficulty in the view that it
is not merely the deed of wickedness itself, but the conscious
decision that leads up to the deed that arises out of the family
inheritance of crime. The conscious choice and decision, though
regarded as necessary, seemed to demonstrate fully the personal
guilt and responsibility of the doer.[67\12] The cloud of evil that
proceeds from the deed of the ancestor casts a dark shadow also over
the minds of his son and his son's son. Not from his own mind or
character does the will to do wrong take its origin. The noble, pure
and resolute Eteokles, the model of intelligent manhood, the shield
and protection of his people, falls in a moment, a victim to ominous
destiny; his clear-sighted spirit is darkened, he gives himself
up--his better self--for lost,[68\12] and rushes upon his doom with
awful resolve. The "sins derived from his ancestors"[69\12] drive
him on. Then, and not till then, is the full measure of penance at
last paid for the crime done by the ancestor;[70\12] his descendants
are his representatives, and become guilty on his behalf and then,
for their own guilt as well as his, they suffer retribution.
Divinity, or a spirit of vengeance sent with a divine mission,
drives the victims burdened with the inheritance of crime to the
criminal deed. The divine guidance is actuated no longer, as in
ancient and undying popular belief, by personal desire of vengeance,
anger or malice,[71\12] but by divine justice, acting with "just
deceit",[72\12] that the measure of guilt may be fulfilled, and that
the divine will to justice may have a means to complete
satisfaction. The evil Spirit of the House assists Klytaimnestra to
conceive the thought of murdering her husband;[73\12] God himself
guides and urges forward Orestes to the act of matricide which he
plans and carries out with fully conscious purpose--a crime that is
also a duty. To the poet the old ideas of the duty of avenging
murder are a very living reality. The right to worship and cult
possessed by the souls, their claim to vengeance when they have been
violently done to death, their ghostly influence exerted upon the
life and destinies of their immediate kinsfolk upon whom the duty of
taking vengeance rests--all these things are for him not the
obsolete fancies of an older generation but true and awful
realities.[74\12] Whole dramas, the **Choephoroi and the Eumenides,
for {425} instance, would appear as a meaningless beating of the air
if they were not animated and made significant by unaltered faith in
the right and the might of the souls, the reality and potency of the
daimonic counsel, the Erinyes,[75\12] who appear on behalf of the
murdered mother. And now at last light breaks through the dark and
clouded sky of awful imagination: where Duty and Crime have become
inextricably confused, divine grace, though yielding nothing of its
rights, finds at last a solution.
All these things, however--conflict and solution, crime and its
expiation in ever-renewed crime and the suffering that arises
thence--fulfil themselves in _this_ world. Guilt is avenged always
upon earth. The "other" world is by no means an indispensable link
in this chain of conceptions and fancies; the poet's view is rarely
turned in that direction. Speculation upon the state of the soul
after death, upon a blessed life in the kingdom of the
spirits,[76\12] does not interest him. Only such portions of the
eschatological imaginings of the theologians as might serve the
purposes of moral inspiration or support, found favour with the
poet. There are occasional allusions to the judgment that, in Hades,
"another Zeus" holds over the deeds of earthly life,[77\12] but they
remain dark and vague. It is not explained in what relation this
judgment in Hades stands to the complete equivalence of guilt and
destiny that, here upon earth, Zeus and Moira bring to completion in
the person of the criminal himself and, after his death, of his
descendants. Side by side with the allusions to the judgment in the
underworld implying the complete consciousness of the dead, stand
expressions that call up a picture of the senseless, twilight
existence of the souls in Hades like that described in Homer.[78\12]
The poet, to whom every feature of the beliefs derived from the cult
of the souls about the relations of the departed to the life of the
dwellers on earth was intensely and vividly real, never cared to fix
his attention for long upon the nature and condition of the dead in
their separate other-world existence. In fact his chosen work of
giving a moral significance and deeper meaning to popular and
ancient faith was wholly derived from this faith itself; and so also
was the lofty and consistent idea of divinity which fills the
background of his picture of life. The generation which had fought
at Marathon, in spite of a profounder and even more sombre
meditation upon life and destiny, could still dispense almost
entirely with the assistance of the theological doctrines of the
sects who sought refuge from the dark and austere {426} realities of
this unsatisfying world in thoughts of an imagined hereafter.
§ 5
Towards the great problems of dramatic philosophy--the problems of
the freedom or compulsion of the will, the guilt and destiny of
man--Sophokles took up a position that differed essentially from
that of his great predecessor. A maturer and calmer self-abandonment
to the observation of life and its difficulties made him less able
to rest content with simple or sweeping solutions of the
complexities; made him seek out other and more various modes of
understanding. The individual man, stamped with the unique
impression of his peculiar being, with him becomes more fully
detached from the background of omnipotent might and universal law.
The individual finds within himself the rules of his behaviour, the
causes of his success, or his tragic failure. No petty, egotistical
motive inspires the action of Antigone or Elektra: they are obedient
to the old, unwritten laws of the gods. But the force that leads
them to obey is derived solely from the special fashion and impulse
of their own hearts. No one else could do what they do, suffer what
they suffer. We realize the necessity and justification of what they
do and suffer solely from the contemplation of the strength and
weakness of their own characters as displayed for us in the action
that takes place upon the stage. Indeed, the length to which
Sophokles, in the "Elektra", goes in the suppression of such
universally recognized and binding motives as those derived from the
duty of vengeance and the rights of injured souls, may well cause
surprise. The special and individual case must for him carry its own
justification within itself, and in fact it receives such
justification so completely from the character and behaviour of the
actors in the drama that, unlike the hero of Aeschylus' tragedy,
Orestes needs to have no qualm of doubt in the performance of his
deed, and suffers no remorse after the murder of the wicked
murderess. Once again as in the Homeric story, with Orestes'
"righteous deed of blood",[79\12] the circle of calamity is
complete: no Erinys rises from the earth to demand his
overthrow.[80\12]
So, too, when the suffering and calamity that befalls the mortal
hero comes not from his own conscious decision and exercise of will,
but from obscure decrees of fate it is still the special character
of the hero which not only demands the greater part of our
attention, but entirely conditions and sufficiently explains the
course of events. The same {427} misfortune might overtake another
man, but neither its inward nor its outward effects would be the
same as they are for Oedipus or Aias. Only tragically extreme
characters can have a tragic fate.
And yet, in these as in other tragedies, what gives the first
impulse and direction to the course of the story does not arise from
the will or character of their heroes. The mind of Aias is not free
but subject when he performs the deed that sends him to his death.
Oedipus, Deianeira take vengeance upon themselves for the deeds of
horror that they have brought about without knowing what they did.
Notwithstanding the fact that the interest of the "Philoktetes"
centres so completely round the vividly contrasted characters of
Philoktetes, Neoptolemos, and Odysseus, yet the situation which
brings them into opposition is one which it was beyond the power or
the purpose of man to bring about or to hinder. An obscure destiny
plunges man into suffering, drives him to actions in the face of
which easy and ready-made judgments about "guilt" and the relation
between suffering and desert are silenced. It is not inherited
family crime that here forces the son and the grandson to deeds that
can hardly be called their own. The poet, it is true, knows of these
conceptions[81\12] that play so large a part in the poetry of
Aeschylus, but they are mere historical tradition to him, not vital
motives of his drama. Nor is it mere irrational chance, or
impersonal fate working by necessity and without passion that
directs the mind and guides the hand of the actor in his bondage.
Clearly or obscurely moving about in the background of events the
will of a divine power can be discerned that, inevitable as
fate,[82\12] guides the deeds and the fate of men in accordance with
its own purpose.
The divine purpose brings to maturity a plan in which the individual
man and his destiny are mere instruments. To make plain the
premeditated character of this purposeful direction of human affairs
is the object of the prophetic anticipations of the future, the
divine oracles and prophecies of seers of which we hear so much in
the plays. If this divine purpose should involve the fatal act, the
undeserved suffering of the individual, then that purpose will be
fulfilled though human happiness may be destroyed in the process,
and though pain, crime, agony, and violent death may overwhelm the
mortal individual. The well-being of the individual does not enter
into the question where the intentions of a divinity that sees far
beyond this puny existence are concerned. An honest, simple-minded,
good-hearted man, without {428} deceit or fault, like Philoktetes,
is abandoned for many long years to every kind of suffering in order
that he may not interfere prematurely in the development of the war
against Troy with the magic weapons that are in his
possession.[83\12] He is an involuntary martyr for the good of the
whole community. In order that Herakles may be released from this
life at the precise moment of time that has been fixed by divine
foreknowledge,[84\12] Deianeira, the most devoted and womanly
character in the whole of the Attic drama, must out of the goodness
of her heart and the love she bears to her husband send him to the
most awful of deaths and then perish herself. Simply because such is
the will of heaven[85\12] must Oedipus, unknowing and blameless,
slay his father, marry his mother, and plunge himself into the
deepest depth of misery.
Thus, out of the darkness, the hand of divine superiority guides the
destinies of humanity, the will and behaviour of men, according to
its own purposes. The problematical in human life, the disparity
between personal guilt and personal suffering, which daily
experience brings before our eyes, seemed to the poet to be rendered
more intelligible by this conception. He preaches dutiful submission
to these dispensations of a higher power. He himself is one of the
pious, in the specific sense of the word,[86\12] for whom to
perceive the will of the gods is sufficient to call forth adoration
of the gods; who feel no need that this mighty will should justify
itself to human ideas of morality and goodness.[87\12] It may be
right to call this will a holy will; but there is no need for it to
prove itself such at the bar of human judgment. Nor does such piety
find itself disturbed in its worship when, in order to assert the
divine prerogative over humanity (whose first duty it is to
recognize the limits of what is allowed and possible for it), divine
inhumanity and cold lust of vengeance manifest themselves so clearly
as in the Athene of the "Ajax".[88\12] It gives the measure of the
peculiar and unique character of Sophoklean art and the Sophoklean
attitude to life--a quite personal character not to be explained on
abstract grounds--that this attitude of awed submissiveness in
matters of religion could exist side by side with the strong
appreciation and justification of the unfettered action of free
individuality. Rarely--only once or twice in the plays--is a cry of
pain wrested from the lips of one of these uncomplaining victims of
a purpose not their own.[89\12] As a rule, the eye shuns to behold,
the judgment to criticize, the ultimate reasons of divine action. It
is partly artistic restraint no doubt, but religious discretion,
too, makes the poet leave {429} such things in
semi-obscurity.[90\12] The majesty of divine power remains for the
most part in the background and does not mingle familiarly with men
or too notoriously interfere with human destiny.[91\12]
But the individual who with his sufferings must serve a purpose that
is not his own, Humanity that lives under such bitter laws--what
elevating and consoling thoughts are awakened by the contemplation
of their fate. The poet employs all the resources of his
overwhelming art to secure the profoundest sympathies of his hearers
for the undeserved sufferings of the victim, for the delusions of
well-intentioned but limited vision that must always stray from the
goal at which it aims. The moral of the play is not lost even on the
sufferer's foe as he beholds the error and guilt of the noble but
misguided heart.[92\12] What thus overwhelms the strong and the
wise, the good and the well-meaning, through no fault of their own,
may descend upon any member of the human family. Thus the destinies
of men are allotted. The lament over the vanity and the sorrow of
life, its brief happiness, and the uncertainty of its joy, is poured
forth in memorable lines.[93\12] They end on a note of resignation
which gives the keynote of the poet's own character; but there is a
bitterness which remains behind.
It might have been supposed that one who thus abandoned all attempt
to reconcile the worth and actions of men with their fate upon
earth, would feel all the more need, for his own satisfaction and
that of others, to prove the existence of a divine justice that
should restore the balance in a future state of being. But the poet
shows little sign of any such need. Thoughts of what may happen
after death are never of very great moment to him. They never
distinctly affect the behaviour of those whose deeds or suffering
fill his plays.[94\12]
When, however, light is thrown for a passing moment on the unknown
land beyond the grave the scene that imagination reveals hardly
differs at all from the picture that had once been present to the
minds of the Homeric singers. The place that is in store for the
departed is Hades,[95\12] the unlovely country of the dead,[96\12]
whither the Soul flits powerless, shadowlike, little more than a
nothing,[97\12] feeling no joy but no pain either;[98\12] where it
enters upon a state of insensibility that the grief-stricken
sufferer on earth often longs for as a much-desired haven of
rest.[99\12] Plouton, Persephone, all the deities of the earth
below,[100\12] there rule over the departed. But it is not grace nor
kindliness that prevails there--only Justice: Hades demands equal
justice for all.[101\12] {430} Pious veneration of the gods
continues also in the other world,[102\12] and for the rest we hear
nothing of either reward or punishment or of a final supplementing
in the land of the Souls of the inadequacy of the justice that
fulfils itself on earth.
But though departed into Hades the dead have still a claim upon the
upper world and on those who still are living there. Together with
the Homeric picture of the lower world is united the cult of the
souls and the ideas, connected with that cult, of the continued life
of the dead. The next of kin owe to the departed the ceremonious
burial that is the first expression of their pious solicitude for
his soul's welfare.[103\12] In two plays the "Ajax" and the
"Antigone", the love and loyalty of the survivors is obliged to
fight for this right of the dead in desperate encounter with earthly
authority and even with the sacrifice of their own devoted lives.
Such instances serve to bring out clearly the fact that it is no
empty convention or tradition that is thus defended and carried
through to the end. Nor does the completion of the burial mark the
end of the dead man's relations with the upper world: even after
that he may be benefited by offerings made at his grave.[104\12]
Information of what happens on earth may penetrate to the
dead;[105\12] and he himself, under the protection of the underworld
spirits and of their assessor Dikê, who take cognizance of his
claims,[106\12] may interfere in the affairs of the living as a
"Curse-spirit" upon those who disregard his wishes,[107\12] by
sending threatening dream-visions upon his foes,[108\12] and as a
very present help and unseen ally to his friends in their hour of
need.[109\12]
As to an eternity of bliss awaiting the soul, the god in man, after
its final release from the shackles of the body, the poet knows as
little of such as he does of an eternity of damnation for the
wicked. Only the quite special state of grace which is enjoyed by
those who have been purified in the mysteries of the goddesses at
Eleusis receives mention by him[110\12]: he is frequently disposed
to think of this supreme expression of Attic worship with patriotic
pride.[111\12] But it is only a minority of the good who thus
achieve by the grace of the goddesses a privileged "life" in the
kingdom of shadows. One and only one is lifted by the divine grace
clear of the human fate of annihilation, and in the Grove of the
Erinyes the sorely-tried Oedipus is translated without seeing death
out of this earthly life.[112\12] So living a reality to this poet
of ancient piety is the conviction that the divine miracle of
translation[113\12] is a literal truth, that he is even ready {431}
to make this strange circumstance serve as the sole aim and purpose
of a whole drama: a miracle which all the other scenes serve not so
much to prepare as simply to postpone, and thus heighten the
expectancy with which the event is awaited. It is not supreme virtue
that secures an immortality for Oedipus which others also who showed
an equal degree of goodness might possibly attain. He reveals
himself to us as an innocent sufferer indeed,[114\12] but also as
obdurate in his rash and violent nature, vindictive, stubborn, and
self-willed, not ennobled but rather brutalized by his
sufferings.[115\12] Nevertheless, divine power elevates him to the
state of immortal _Hero_ less almost for the sake of the
satisfaction and bliss to himself as in order that he may be the
saviour of the Attic land, the country of humanity and kindness that
has taken into its protection[116\12] the unfortunate one, and
desires to preserve for ever his power of blessing.[117\12] Just as
once it had pleased divine power to overwhelm the innocent victim in
a sea of crime and suffering, so now it pleases the same divine
power to raise the sufferer, without any new or special merit on his
side, to a fate of superhuman bliss.[118\12] In his case a divine
miracle occurs, into the ultimate reasons for which it is not
profitable to inquire.
In his views, so far as he allows us to see them, of the things of
the next world, Sophokles differs not at all from those who still
saw life and worshipped the gods as their fathers had done before
them. The great poet of human, tragic destiny, the profound student
of the divine government of this mournful world, was unwilling to
set by the side of it a brighter and more comforting picture of a
spirit world of the imagination. In this, too, he is modest and will
not say much--he knows no more of these matters, and in no other
fashion, than "any other honest citizen of Athens".[119\12]
§ 6
In the course of a long life Sophokles was able to make himself
complete master of his art and grow up into strong and generous
manhood without the guidance or support of either theological or
philosophical learning. Theology he did not care to seek out in its
hiding place, the obscurity of isolated sects. Philosophy, in the
period of his impressionable youth, had not yet reached Athens, and
when he had attained riper years his noble simplicity of temper had
little to gain or to fear from the meditated wisdom or folly of the
younger generation. In serene detachment he passed on his way
through all the press and clamour of the market place. {432}
The moving impulse which since the end of the sixth century had
collected together at Athens all the intellectual forces of Greece
for a final expansion of their capacity now began, in the middle of
the fifth century, to take hold of philosophy as it had long since
done literature and the fine arts. Athens saw the last
representatives of Ionian physiology gathered together within her
walls. Some, like Anaxagoras, took up their residence there for a
long period, and left the impress of their teaching upon the
foremost minds of the city. The others who paid briefer visits were
those who in conscious opposition to the recent trend of thinking,
stoutly upheld the older principles of philosophic Monism or
Hylozoism, such as Diogenes of Apollonia or Hippon of Samos; or who
sought like Archelaos to reconcile the old and the new Ionic
doctrine. Besides these, Athens was a headquarters of the wandering
exponents of the newest wisdom, the Sophists. Nowhere did unfettered
discussion find such cultivated appreciation of its daring; nowhere
was such an eager welcome given to the dialectical word-play that,
seeming to be an end in itself, was destined to become the most
fruitful nursery of native Athenian philosophy. All traditional
beliefs and customs that had not their origin or their justification
in reflexion were already doomed as soon as they, together with
every conventional view of life and the world, were deprived of
their natural protection of unchallenged self-evidence by the cold
scrutiny of the sovereign tyrant Dialectic. The Sophists, those
skirmishers of a new and as yet unrecognizable philosophy, scattered
and put to flight the old guard of positive and doctrinal wisdom,
but to the individual, who was bidden to depend upon his own
resources, they offered stimulus to reflection in abundance but no
permanent foothold in the shifting sands of opinion. It would be but
a final assertion of the principle that there are no principles if
by any chance the Sophists themselves should for a moment speak in
the language of edification and, for example, lend the support of
their eloquence to certain articles of doctrine that provided a
positive teaching as to the nature and life of the soul.[120\12]
If Sophokles remained quite unaffected by this whole movement which
reached its flood tide in Athens, Euripides was drawn completely
into its current. He sought out philosophers and sophists personally
and in their writings. His was a spirit that urgently desired to
know the truth and he followed every available guide to knowledge
and wisdom for a stage upon their journey. But he was never able to
continue permanently in any one direction; in the restlessness {433}
and bewilderment of search and experiment he is the true son of his
age.
His philosophical and sophistical leanings were sufficiently marked
to make it impossible for him to accept any part of the belief or
tradition of his countrymen without trial. So far as it is possible
within the limits of dramatic art, he instituted an unsparing and
unhesitating criticism of all accepted things, and in the process
felt himself immeasurably superior to the wit and wisdom of the
past. And yet he never satisfied himself. He could never rest
content with a merely negative position, for all onesidedness was
foreign to his nature. The tremendous honesty of his nature made it
impossible for him to admit that element of frivolity which made the
sophistic movement and the dialectical negation of all certainty so
simple and attractive, and at the same time took away half its
sting. But he could take nothing easily; and so with all his
sophistic enlightenment he was never happy. The pupil of the
Sophists would hear every other side as well; there were even
moments when he longed to take refuge in the restful narrowness of
old and traditional piety. But it was not given to him to settle
down in any fixed set of opinions; all his convictions were
provisional, mere hypotheses adopted for the purposes of experiment.
Afloat on a changeful sea, he let himself be driven hither and
thither by every wind of intellectual excitement or artistic
necessity.
When all convictions were involved together in a state of perpetual
change and instability, the conception of the nature and being of
the soul and its relation to the powers of life and death could not
alone remain in fixed and dogmatic certainty.
Where the content and character of the fable chosen as the subject
of his drama demand it, the poet frankly adopts the popular view of
the nature and destiny of the departed soul, its power and claim
upon the worship of the survivors upon earth. In the fairy-tale play
of the "Alcestis" the whole apparatus of popular belief plays its
part; the God of Death and his awful office, the dwelling of the
dead in the underworld, are spoken of as facts and creatures of
experience and reality.[121\12] The elaborate funeral ceremonies
owed to the dead are treated with the utmost seriousness and
precision.[122\12] A whole drama, the "Suppliant Women", has as its
real subject, or at least as its ostensible motive, the religious
importance of a ritual burial,[123\12] nor is there any lack of
isolated passages in which the importance of burial and the honour
paid to graves is stressed.[124\12] The survivors on earth give
pleasure to the dead by offerings at their graves,[125\12] {434} and
in this way obtain their goodwill and can count upon their
support.[126\12] Power and honour belong not only to the great ones
of antiquity translated to a higher state of being;[127\12] not only
"Heroes" can extend their influence beyond their graves and affect
the course of earthly events:[128\12] from the soul of his murdered
father, the son expects assistance and succour in his time of need.
The dread creatures of antique faith, the Erinyes, exact vengeance
for the murdered mother.[129\12]
But at this point it becomes apparent that the poet only associates
himself for his own purposes with this circle of ancient and
sanctified popular fancy--so long in fact as it suits the tone that
he wishes to give to the drama and its characters. The Erinyes are
excellent material for the play--that in reality their horrid
figures only exist in the imagination of the mentally diseased is
clearly asserted in the "Orestes".[130\12] The whole series of
beliefs and demands--murder ever calling forth fresh murder in
accordance with the sacred duty of vengeance, the Erinyes, the
bloodthirsty patrons of the murdered victim who leaves no proper
avenger behind him--all these have ceased to have any validity for
him. The "animal and bloodthirsty" part of these figures of ancient
belief call forth the loathing of the poet living in the days of
organized justice and humaner manners.[131\12] He does not believe
in the souls' right to blood; the ancient legends which depend on
this right are an abomination to him. In fact, he only seems to have
written his plays about them in order, by the manner of his
presentation, to have his revenge upon this material that was almost
unavoidably thrust upon him by the tradition of the tragic stage.
The duty of the living to offer a cult to the departed souls becomes
doubtful in its turn. The seriousness with which that cult is
sometimes handled in the plays is compromised by such reflections as
these: it is certain that it matters little to the dead whether rich
offering are placed in their graves or not; such things only satisfy
the idle vanity of the living;[132\12] honour and dishonour are of
no further consequence to the dead.[133\12] How should they be, if
the departed no longer feel either pleasure or pain, are nothing at
all, as is repeatedly declared even in the middle of the
"Alcestis"?[134\12]
It is evident that only from an arbitrarily adopted point of view do
the picturesque creations of popular belief in the soul and of the
cult of souls seem real to the poet; apart from this they disappear
from his mind like the creatures of a dream.[135\12] The teachings
of the theologians supplied him with no real substitute for popular
faith; at the most they were a {435} momentary and passing stimulus.
No doubt he did not shut his eyes completely to these manifestations
of the spiritual life of his time. His plays contain allusions to
Orphic poetry and he joins the asceticism of the Orphics to the cold
virtue of his Hippolytos.[136\12] The thought that the soul has
fallen from a higher state of being and is enclosed within the body
like the dead man in his coffin takes captive his imagination for a
moment. "Who knows then whether life is not a kind of death," so
that in death the soul awakes to its real life?[137\12] The gloomy
view of human destiny upon this earth to which the poet so often
gives expression, might seem to hint at a consolation to come in a
more satisfactory hereafter; but the poet has no longing for the
consolation offered by the theologians. Among the many and various
reflections of the poet upon the reality that may reveal itself when
the curtain is drawn aside by death, we never meet with the
conception that lies at the bottom of the assurances made by the
theologians--the conception that the spiritual individual is certain
of its immortality because in its individuality it is of divine
nature and is itself a god.[138\12] True, he is the author of the
bold saying so often quoted and varied in later times, that God is
nothing else but the mind that dwells in men.[139\12] But this makes
no allusion to the theological doctrine of the multiplicity of
individual gods or daimones banished into the life of men; it rather
implies a semi-philosophic doctrine of the soul in which one may
perceive for the first time the expression of a permanent conviction
on the part of the poet.
In quite inapposite contexts Euripides sometimes introduces passing
allusions to a philosophical view of the world and humanity, that is
the more certainly to be regarded as the private conviction of the
poet himself as the utterances fail to correspond fully with the
character of the person in the play who makes them, and do not arise
necessarily from the dramatic situation. Everything in the world has
had its origin from Earth and "the Aether of Zeus"; the Earth is the
maternal womb from which the Aether brings everything to
birth.[140\12] Both constituents combine to produce the multiplicity
of appearance; they are not fused together nor are they to be
derived from a single common original element;[141\12] they remain
in dualistic contrast side by side.[142\12] It was probably the
dualism of this cosmological fancy that reminded the ancients of
Anaxagoras; but these statements cannot be regarded as simply a
poetical version of the doctrine of Anaxagoras;[143\12] for they
derive the multiplicity of matter and things from the simple element
of "Earth" from which {436} they arise only by a process of change
and transformation, while in the "seedmixture" of Anaxagoras, the
unchangeable seeds of all things only separate themselves out from
the whole and give rise by mechanical reassemblings to all the
perceived appearances of the world. The "Aether" of Euripides in its
relations with the "Earth" is besides being the active partner also
the intellectual and animated element. The isolation of such an
element from the rest of matter does indeed remind us of the
procedure of Anaxagoras. But the poet's Aether is still an element
though it may be penetrated by mind and animated by spirit; it is
not a mental being standing over against all the other elements in
essential distinctness like the _Nous_ of Anaxagoras. The fact that
it is the element of the Aether, i.e. the dry and hot air, in which
intellectual capacity is said to inhere, may be regarded as having
been borrowed from Diogenes of Apollonia, a philosopher who was held
in considerable estimation at Athens at that time, and who was well
known to Euripides.[144\12] In his doctrine, the air (which indeed,
in contrast to the view of Euripides, produces all other things
simply out of itself) is expressly identified with the "Soul" and is
itself described as "having understanding".[145\12]
This view of the elementary forces and constitution of the universe,
made up as it is from philosophical suggestions of a scarcely
reconcilable character, in which the dualistic tendency is in fact
finally predominant, suggests itself to the poet whenever in an
exalted mood he speaks of the final destiny of the human soul. The
soul on its separation from the body will depart to join the
"Aether". But in such conceptions it is not always the imagination
of the philosopher-poet that finds expression. On this subject it is
accompanied or replaced by a more popular view that only distantly
resembles it, but which led to the same result. When we hear now and
again of the Aether, the luminous atmosphere above the clouds, as
being the _dwelling place_ of the departed souls,[146\12] the
view--more theological than philosophic in its character--seems to
be implied that after death the liberated soul will float upwards to
the seat of the gods[147\12] which has long ceased to be situated
upon Olympos, but is in "heaven" or in this same Aether. This, too,
was the meaning of a saying traditionally ascribed to Epicharmos the
comic-poet of Sicily who was himself versed in philosophy. In this
saying the pious man is assured that for him death will bring no
evil for his "mind" will dwell permanently in "heaven".[148\12] This
conception, which appears so frequently in later epitaphs, {437}
must have been familiar to popular imagination at Athens at an early
period; at least in the grave-epigram officially dedicated by the
state to the memory of the Athenians who fell in the year 432 before
Poteidaia, we find the belief expressed (as a commonly received
opinion) that the souls of these brave men have been received by the
"Aether" just as the earth has received their bodies.[149\12] Such
official use implies a commonly accepted opinion and the fundamental
ideas of the popular cult of the souls might have led to similar
results. From the beginning popular belief had regarded the psyche,
which got its name from the air or breath, as closely akin to the
winds, the mobile air and its spirits. It would not be difficult for
the idea to arise that the soul, as soon as it was free to decide
for itself what should become of it, should go to join the elemental
spirits that are its kinsfolk. Perhaps this, too, is what Epicharmos
means when on another occasion he says that in death when the united
are parted asunder each returns whence it came, the body to earth,
but the soul up to the heights--its name, in which allusion is made
to its perpetual mobility, being now after the example of Xenophanes
derived from the breath of the wind, the moving air (~pneu=ma~), a
usage which became very common in later times.[150\12]
But perhaps the use of such a name is an indication that this poet
also regards the soul as standing in a close relation and kinship
with the Aether that is destined to receive it after its release
from the body; so that from this side, too[151\12]--in addition to
the more popular conception just mentioned--Euripides may have
received a hint for his peculiar version of the physiological theory
of Diogenes. In his view the soul participates in the nature of the
Aether. But it is more important to notice that the Aether
participates in the nature and true reality of the soul; it
possesses life, consciousness and power of thought. They both belong
to one family. The Aether according to the poet--and here the
speculations of Anaximenes as revived by Diogenes are
unmistakable[152\12]--is a true vital atmosphere, an all-embracing
psychic element, so that it becomes, not a mere vehicle of mind, but
the All-Mind itself. The concept is even condensed and
half-personified, it is called by the name of the highest divine
power, Zeus,[153\12] and the poet as though speaking of a personal
god, calls it "immortal".[154\12] The human mind, too, as akin to
the universal god and the All-Mind, appears, as it had been in the
teaching of Diogenes,[155\12] as a part of this God, this universal
Mind. God is the mind, and the mind and understanding in us is
God--so the poet clearly asserts.[156\12] In death, when {438} the
separation of the mind from its earthly elements takes place, the
Pneuma of man will "not indeed live", as it had done in the separate
existence of the individual man, but it will "preserve an immortal
consciousness", entering into the immortal Aether and fusing itself
with the All-living and the All-thinking.[157\12] None of the
physiologists who conceived the same idea of an immortality
excluding the personal immortality of the individual, of the
universal spirit of life in mankind, has expressed his meaning with
such distinctness as this philosophic layman.
The poet may have wished to remain permanently upon the sublime
heights of this Pantheistic vision; but he must, in his peculiar
all-embracing spirit that never held fast to any one view with
enduring persistence, have experienced too often the truth of the
saying of Protagoras that every statement calls forth its equally
legitimate opposite,[158\12] to have become an unswerving adherent
of any single opinion. Death, and whatever may reveal itself after
death, is beyond the experience of any man.[159\12] It may be that
complete disappearance into nothingness follows death; that the dead
man becomes simply nothing.[160\12] It may be that in the permanence
of the human race the great name and the renown of glorious deeds
lives on undying.[161\12] Whether there may remain besides a vestige
of life in a spirit world, who can tell? Perhaps such a thing is
hardly even to be wished.[162\12] It is just what makes death such a
comforting thing, that it puts an end to all feeling and therefore
to all pain and every care. We should not lament over our fate if,
like the harvests that follow each other in the course of the years,
one generation of men after another flowers, fades, and is carried
off. So it is ordered in the course of Nature, and we ought not to
be dismayed by anything that is rendered inevitable by her
laws.[163\12]
NOTES TO CHAPTER XII
[1\12: The learned and more particularly the philosophers of later
ages paid special attention to utterances of the older poetry that
gave expression to belief of a spiritualist tendency. Just as they
selected and preserved passages from Pindar (and from Melanippides
in the case soon to be mentioned), which bore witness to an advanced
view of the soul, so they must also have given us similar passages
from other melic or from iambic and elegiac poets--if such passages
had existed. They must, for example, have been absent from the
~thrê=noi~ of Simonides which were famous as the models of this kind
of poetry. And so with all the rest.]
[2\12: Hades puts an end to all pleasure for every man; hence the
warning that man should enjoy his youth upon earth: Thgn. 973 ff.;
cf. 877 f., 1191 ff., 1009 f.; Sol. 24; Thgn. 719 ff.]
[3\12: ~thana/tô| pa/ntes opheilo/metha~--an ancient saying often
repeated; cf. Bergk on Simon. 122, 2; Nauck on Soph., _El._ 1173
[Blaydes ad loc.].]
[4\12: Hades himself plays the part of Thanatos and carries off the
souls to the lower world. Thus as early as Semon. i, 13 f., ~tou\s
d' A/rei dedême/nous pe/mpei melai/nês Aï/dês hupo\ chthono/s~. In
metaphorical language ~Ha/idês~ for ~tha/natos~ is quite regular
from the time of Pindar onwards. This, in turn, lent support to the
use of the name of ~Ha/idês~ instead of the _personified_
~Tha/natos~. So esp. in Pi., _O._ ix, 33-5; cf. besides, _Epigr.
Gr._ 89, 3-4. ~to/nde . . . ma/rpsas Ha/idês hoi skoti/as
amphe/balen pte/rugas~; cf. 201, 2; 252, 1-2. (And therefore in
Eur., _Alc._ 261, we should not alter the ~pterôto\s Ha/idas~ who is
named instead of Thanatos--not even in favour of the otherwise
ingenious ~ble/pôn . . . ha/|dan~.)]
[5\12: ~dêro\n e/nerthen gê=s ole/sas psuchê\n kei/somai hô/ste
li/thos a/phthoggos~ Thgn. 567 f.--the condition of things in Hades
is regarded exactly as in the Homeric pictures: Thgn. 704-10.]
[6\12: See esp. Sol. 13, 29 ff.: Thgn. 731-42; 205 ff.]
[7\12: Mimn. ii, 13: ~a/llos d' hau= pai/dôn epideu/etai, hô=nte
ma/lista himei/rôn kata\ gê=s e/rchetai eis Aï/dên~. Without
children there can be no assurance that the cult of the soul will be
carried on. But we may well believe that the attaching of so much
importance to offspring was assisted by the natural human belief
that the man who left children behind him on earth did not
completely perish in death (hence ~aeigene/s esti kai\ atha/naton
hôs thnêtô=| hê ge/nnêsis~ as in Plato, _Smp._ 206 E). This alone
gives a meaning and a reason for the widespread belief among the
Greeks that the wicked man who is punished after his death in his
children and children's children himself feels that punishment.]
[8\12: Semon. 1; 3. Mimn. 2. Sol. 13, 63 ff.; 14. Thgn. 167 f.; 425
ff. We may also add here the expressions of resignation, Hdt. vii,
46; i, 31.]
[9\12: ~Nukto\s tha/lamos~ [Ion] _fr._ 8, 2.]
[10\12: On the story of Midas and Silenos see _Griech. Roman_, p.
204 f. As to the ancient and often repeated maxim ~archê\n~ (or
~pa/ntôn) me\n mê\ phu=nai epichthoni/oisin a/riston ktl.~, see
Bgk., _Opusc._ ii, 214; _PLG^4. ii, p. 155 f. Nietzsche, _Rh. Mus._
xxviii, 212 ff. (whose view that the {440} beginning ~archê\n . . .~
is old and original--but not his involved explanation of this--has
been fully confirmed by the finding of the primitive form of the
~agô/n~: Mahaffy, _On the Flinders Petrie Papyri_, i, p. 70).]
[11\12: Simon, _fr._ 39; 38.]
[12\12: _fr._ 137.--Usener, _Götternamen_, 229, 13, says of Sappho
that "she was possessed by the belief that as a poetess she would
live again after her death among the gods, and would therefore
become a _heroine_; see _frr._ 68 and 136". But from these fragments
of Sappho no such belief can be extracted without first reading into
them a good deal that they do not say.]
[13\12: Of the man who has fallen in glory on the battlefield
Tyrtaios says, 12, 31 f.: ~oude/ pote kle/os esthlo\n apo/llutai
oud' o/nom' au/tou=, all' hupo\ gê=s per eô\n gi/gnetai
_atha/natos_~ (i.e. in renown upon earth). Thgn. says to his Kyrnos,
243 ff., in your lifetime my songs will make you famous ~kai\ ho/tan
dnopherê=s hupo\ keu/thesi gai/ês bê=|s polukôku/tous eis Ai/dao
do/mous, oude/pot' oude\ thanô\n apolei=s kle/os alla\ melê/seis
a/phthiton anthrô/pois aie\n e/chôn o/noma . . .~ cf. Aesch.,
_Epigr._ iii, 3 (241 Bgk. = 449 Di.), ~zôo\n de\ phthime/nôn
pe/letai kle/os~.]
[14\12: Even in Hades the dead perceive ~chthoni/a| phreni/~ if they
themselves or the ~aretai/~ of their descendants upon earth are
praised: Pi., _P._ v, 98: cf. _O._ viii, 81 ff.; xiv, 20 ff.; [Ion]
_Anth. Pal._ vii, 43, 3 (to Eurip.), ~i/sthi d' hupo\ chthono\s ô/n,
ho/ti soi kle/os a/phthiton e/stai ktl.~--In the expressions
collected by Meuss, _Jahrb. f. Philol._ 1889, p. 812 f., from the
fourth century orators there only remains a very faint recollection
of such a belief.]
[15\12: Semon. 2, ~tou= me\n thano/ntos ouk a\n enthumoi/metha, ei/
ti phronoi=men, plei=on hême/rês miê=s~.--Stes. 51, ~atele/stata
ga\r kai\ ama/chana tou\s thano/ntas klai/ein~. 52, ~thano/ntos
andro\s pa=s' apo/llutai pot' anthrô/pôn cha/ris~.]
[16\12: This emerges at once if we review the material collected by
H. Meuss upon "the conceptions appearing in the Attic orators of
existence after death": _Jahrb. f. Philol._ 1889, pp. 801-15. For
the cult of the soul and all that attaches to it the orators are our
most authoritative witnesses and as such are frequently examined in
the sections of this book that deal with the subject.]
[17\12: ~_ei/_ tines tô=n teteleutêko/tôn la/boien _tro/pô| tini\_
tou= nu=n gignome/nou pra/gmatos ai/sthêsin~ and frequently in this
style: cf. the passages quoted by Westermann on D., _Lept._ (20),
87; cf. also Lehrs, _Pop. Aufs._ 329 ff. The question is always
whether the dead are capable in any way of apprehending what goes on
in this world. The continued life of the dead is never doubtful but
rather implied throughout, for without such implication no
possibility whatever would be left for that ~ei~--.]
[18\12: See Nägelsbach, _Nachhom. Theol._ 420. Meuss, p. 812.]
[19\12: This is well brought out by Lehrs, _Pop. Aufs._ 331. But the
statement holds good in an even more precise and exclusive sense
than he there gives it. The words of Hyper., _Epit._ xiii, § 39,
deal simply with the existence in Hades of those who have died for
their country (with some traditional embellishments; see above,
chap. vii, n. 5)--this much can hardly ever have been expressly
doubted or denied by any orator. But it is wrong to say (as Lehrs
does: p. 331) that Hyp. expresses, though in other words, what was
afterwards laid down by [D.H.] _Rhet._ vi, 5, as proper "for such
funeral speeches" (no, only for _private_ funerals--which is quite
another matter). It is true that the advice there given is to say
that the soul is _~atha/natos~_ and now dwells {441} "with the
gods". But it never enters into the head of Hyp. to say any such
thing (nor in the frag. of the speech preserved by Stob., _Fl._ 124,
36). In fact, the precept of this sophistic writer (still more the
advice given by Men. Rhet., _de Encom._ 414, 16 ff.; 421, 16 ff.
Sp.) rather reveals the enormous contrast between the style of the
sophistic funeral oratory of a later period and the real
characteristics of the old Attic funeral orations: a difference
founded upon the difference of sentiment manifested by the public
that listened to such speeches in two different ages. Even the
statements of [Dem.] _Epit._ (60) 34 (~pa/redroi toi=s ka/tô
theoi=s~ together with the ~agathoi\ a/ndres~ of earlier times ~en
maka/rôn nê/sois~) betray sophistic colouring though falling far
short of the excesses of Ps.-D.H. and Men. Rhet.]
[20\12: The only thing ~ agê/rantos~ about those who have fallen in
the wars of freedom is their ~eulogi/ê~ Simon. 100, 4; cf. 106, 4
(with Bgk.'s note). 99, 3-4 ~oude\ tethna=si thano/ntes epei/ sph'
aretê\ kathu/perthen kudai/nous' ana/gei dô/matos ex Aï/deô~ (which
is imitated in the epitaph of Thrasymachos the Kretan ~oude\ thanô\n
areta=s o/num' ôle/sas, alla\ se Pha/ma kudai/nous' ana/gei dô/matos
ex Aï/da~, _BCH._ 1889, p. 60).]
[21\12: ~klu=thi/ moi ô= pa/ter, thau=ma brotô=n, ta=s aeizô/ou
mede/ôn psucha=s~, Melanipp. 6. The words ~thau=ma brotô=n~
(modelled on the ~thau=ma brotoi=si~ of Homer) can refer only to
Dionysos (of the gods who enter into the question here): ~Diô/nusos,
cha/rma brotoi=sin~, ~X~ 325. Further, it is natural to think of
Dionysos in the work of a dithyrambic poet.]
[22\12: The dead man ~amph' Ache/ronti naieta/ôn~, Pi., _N._ iv, 85.
This is the general assumption: e.g. _P._ xi, 19-22; _O._ ix, 33-5;
_I._ viii, 59 f.; _fr._ 207 Bgk.]
[23\12: ~e/sti de\ kai/ ti thano/ntessin me/ros ka\n no/mon
erdo/menon; katakru/ptei d' ou ko/nis suggo/nôn kedna\n cha/rin~,
_O._ viii, 77 ff.]
[24\12: Something of the kind is adopted for the moment, e.g. in
_O._ xiv, 20 ff.; viii, 81 ff. A real belief in such a possibility
appears perhaps most clearly in _P._ v, 98 ff.]
[25\12: For him who dies fighting for his country there is in
store--not blessedness but only Fame, _I._ vii, 26 ff. He who comes
~kala\ e/rxais aoida=s a/ter eis Aï/da stathmo/n~ has little reward
for his pains (his reward would, in fact, have been just the praise
given in the ~aoida/~), _O._ x, 91 ff., cf. _N._ vii, 30-2.]
[26\12: A strange expression is the ~dai/môn gene/thlios~ of _O._
xiii, 105 (in the same poem we also have ~Xenophô=ntos dai/môn~ 28,
which in this case at least is something more than "destiny",
otherwise the normal meaning of ~dai/môn~ in Pindar, cf. _P._ v,
123, _I._ vii, 43). It almost seems as if it were intended to
describe the ancestor spirit that brings good luck to the house like
the _genius generis_ or ~hê/rôs suggenei/as~ (see above, chap. v, n.
132).]
[27\12: Amphiaraos, _O._ vi, 14; _N._ ix, 24 ff.; x, 8 f. (Amph.
from his underground cavern sees the fighting in the war of the
Epigonoi, _P._ viii, 39-56. There is no suggestion that the
~Epi/gonoi~ inquire at his oracle--as Dissen supposes; with this the
~hô=d' eipe _marname/nôn_~ 43 is inconsistent.)--Ganymedes
translated to eternal life, _O._ i, 44; x, 104 f. Apart from this
there are temporary translations to the gods or from one place on
earth to another, _O._ i, 36 ff.; ix, 59; _P._ ix, 5ff.; _I._ viii,
20 f.]
[28\12: _O._ ii, 27 ff.]
[29\12: ~alla/ ti prosphe/romen e/mpan ê\ me/gan no/on ê/toi phu/sin
athana/tois~, _N._ vi, 4 f.]
[30\12: ~skia=s o/nar a/nthrôpos~, _P._ viii, 95. ~he\n andrô=n he\n
theô=n ge/nos, ek mia=s de\ pne/omen matro\s ampho/teroi; diei/rgei
de\ pa=sa kekrime/na du/namis, {442} hôs to\ me\n oude/n, ho de\
chalkeos asphale\s aie\n he/dos me/nei ourano/s~, _N._ vi, 1 ff.]
[31\12: _fr._ 131 Bgk.]
[32\12: Pindar in these lines speaks only of the ~aiô=nos ei/dôlon~;
but that by this he means the ~psuchê/~ is obvious in itself and is
stated by Plutarch, who preserves the lines, _Cons. ad Apoll._ 35,
p. 120 D (~peri\ psuchê=s le/gôn~; cf. _Rom._ 28).--~psuchê/~ in
Pindar sometimes stands for what is otherwise called ~kardi/a~ or
~phrê/n~, "heart" or "disposition" e.g. _P._ i, 48; iv, 122; _N._
ix, 39; _I._ iv, 53b, and _O._ ii, 77, and prob. also _P._ iii, 41;
"disposition," _N._ ix, 32. The word is sometimes (as in Homer)
equivalent to ~zôê/~, _P._ iii, 101, ~psucha\n lipô/n~. It
simultaneously = "life" and the _alter ego_ dwelling within the
living man, _O._ viii, ~psucha\s ba/lon~; cf. _N._ i, 47. But the
poet knows also the full meaning of ~psucha/~ in the older idiom and
belief. Entirely in the manner of Homeric usage ~psucha/~ denotes
the spiritual double of mankind, which survives the man himself, in
those instances where the ~psuchê/~ of the dead is said to be still
in existence: ~psucha\n komi/xai~, _P._ iv, 159; _N._ viii, 44 f.;
~su\n Agamemnoni/a| psucha=|~ (is Kassandra sent into Hades), _P._
xi, 20 f. Persephone ~anadidoi= psucha\s pa/lin~ (out of Hades),
_fr._ 133, 3 (Bgk.); _I._ i, 68, ~psucha\n Aï/da| tele/ôn~ (in
death).--~psuchai/~ is also used in the old idiomatic sense in _fr._
132, 1: which is, however, spurious.--~psucha/~ in Pindar never
denotes the psychical powers of the living man inclusive of the
intellect, much less the intellect, ~nou=s~, alone.]
[33\12: ~kai\ sô=ma me\n pa/ntôn he/petai thana/tô| peristhenei=,
zô=on d' e/ti lei/petai aiô=nos ei/dôlon; to\ _ga\r_ esti mo/non ek
theô=n~, _fr._ 131 (96 Boeckh).]
[34\12: ~oi=si de\ Phersepho/na poina\n palaiou= pe/ntheos
de/xetai~--_fr._ 133. What is meant is undoubtedly the ancient
"guilt" of the soul for which Perseph. receives satisfaction. This
guilt can only be called a ~pe/nthos~ if she who accepts the
satisfaction is regarded as herself grief-stricken by the guilty
dead; if, in fact, the deed has been the occasion of mourning for
Persephone. That this can apply to the goddess of the underworld is
startling, but it cannot be got rid of by artificial interpretation
(as Dissen would like to get rid of it). Pindar follows throughout
the analogy of the ancient procedure of expiation in the case of
blood-guiltiness. But this procedure seems to be familiar with the
idea that, apart from the ~agchistei/a~ of the murdered man, the
underworld gods themselves (as guardians of the Souls) are
immediately injured by the deed and stricken by grief and must
receive satisfaction on their own account. Hence in certain legends
(typificatory of ritual) the murderer not only has to fly from the
land but to undergo servitude to the ~chtho/nioi~: Apollo,
especially after the slaying of Python, has to serve ~A/dmêtos~,
i.e. Hades for an _ennaëteris_ (more on this subject below, n. 40).
Thus, the guilty soul banished from its proper home serves a "great
year" under Persephone, and this is the ~poina/~ that it pays.]
[35\12: _O._ ii, 63-5. Everything here refers to judgment and
compensation _in Hades_. In the words ~thano/ntôn me\n entha/d'
auti/k' apa/lamnoi phre/nes poina\s e/tisan~ the ~entha/de~ cannot
possibly belong to the ~poina\s e/tisan~, as Aristarchos supposed,
so that the words should refer to the punishment in the course of a
new birth upon _earth_ of crimes committed in Hades (in itself a
remarkable conception). ~thano/ntes~ alone would not be put for
~thano/ntes _kai\ anabebiôko/tes_~, and we can only understand by
the word those who after a life-time upon earth have died and are
now spending their time below in the underworld. Moreover, it is
hardly likely (as Ty. Mommsen reminds us _adnot. crit. ad Olymp._
24) that the exposition of the "knowledge of the future" (62) on the
part of {443} a man still living upon earth would begin with what
may happen to man, not after his death, but in a second appearance
upon earth that is to fall to his lot later on. We must first of all
be told what happens after the conclusion of the present condition
of life, viz. that upon earth. Finally, the use of ~auti/ka~ is
quite satisfactory if it refers to the judgment in Hades that
follows immediately after death; while it is meaningless in
Aristarchos' interpretation (hence Rauchenstein writes ~au=tis~--a
mere conjecture and a superfluous one). The view that the ~me\n--de/~
of 63-4 necessitates Aristarchos' explanation is not convincing (as
Lübbert thinks, _Ind. Schol. Bonn. hib._ 1887, p.
xviii--incidentally he quite unjustifiably introduces specifically
Platonic fancies into Pindar, p. xix). The ~thano/ntôn me/n~ of 63
is not answered till ~ho/soi d' eto/lmasan . . .~ 75, just as the
~auti/ka~ of 63 does not receive its contrast till we come to what
happens much later--after the life on earth has been thrice
repeated--described in 75 ff. The ~de/~ of 64 and 67 are subordinate
(not adversative) to what is introduced by the ~me/n~ of 63 and they
continue the thought. The ~entha/de~ of 63 might indeed, in
accordance with an otherwise correct usage, be connected with
~apa/lamnoi phre/nes~, as it is by one of the Scholiasts: "the
~phre/nes~ which have committed crimes here upon earth." But
~apa/lamnos~ does not mean _sceleratus_, _impius_ (nor does it in
the passages adduced for this meaning by Zacher, _Diss. Halens._
iii, 237: Thgn. 281; Sim. v, 3). The ~apa/lamnoi phre/nes~ are
simply equivalent to the ~amenêna\ ka/rêna~ of Homer, and are a very
suitable expression for the ~psuchai/~ of the dead (though not
indeed for the ~psuchai/~ of the reborn as Aristarchos would have
it). No alternative remains save to connect ~thano/ntôn~ and
~entha/de~: simulac mortui sunt hic, s. decedunt hinc (Dissen). The
sentence ~ta\ d' en ta=|de . . .~ must then either be a more exact
description of what has been stated generally just before in
~poina\s e/tisan~ (and this is Mommsen's view supported by one
Schol.), or else be subordinated--together with its contrasted
~i/sais de\ . . .~ 67 ff.--to ~poina\s e/tisan~. ~poina/~ in Pindar
means regularly compensation, whether expiation for evil deeds or
reward for good (cf. _P._ i, 59; _N._ i, 70b). If we might suppose
that by a brachylogy not beyond possibility in Pindar ~poina\s
e/tisan~ is put for ~poina\s e/tisan kai\ ede/xanto~, then the sense
might be: after death the souls receive at once recompense for their
actions--and _then_ follows the division of the bad 64 ff., and the
good 67 ff. But we may perhaps rest content with Mommsen's
explanation.]
[36\12: _O._ ii, 74.]
[37\12: Plu., _de Lat. Viv._ 7, p. 1130 C after citing the lines of
Pindar _fr._ 130 (95) adds: (the rivers of Erebos) ~decho/menoi kai\
apokru/ptontes agnoi/a| kai\ lê/thê| tou\s koazome/nous~. This
_might_ possibly be an addition made by Plu. on his own account--he
had frequently spoken of ~eis a/gnoian auto\n embalei=n~, etc., in
his war against the Epicurean ~la/the biô/sas~ and here the same
thing appears again from Erebos. But the words are more probably a
paraphrase from Pindar. At any rate, what is said in Plu. about the
~_mnê=mai_ kai\ lo/goi~ of the ~eusebei=s~ in clear contrast with
the _~lê/thê~_ of the ~asebei=s~, comes from Pindar: this is shown
by the allusions of Aristid. i, p. 146, 1 Dind. From this parallel
it is also clearly proved that the ~lê/thê~ does not refer (as
Lehrs, _Pop. Aufs._ 313 thinks) to the forgetfulness of the
~kolazo/menoi~ in the minds of the living, but forgetfulness of
their previous life by the ~kolazo/menoi~ themselves. Accordingly we
are to suppose that Pindar assigns retention of memory and complete
consciousness only to the good in Hades, as their special privilege
(cf. the position of Teiresias in ~k~ 494), while the punishment
{444} of the wicked is enhanced by ~lê/thê~ (cf. above, chap. vii,
n. 21 ). Not to have fallen a victim to ~lê/thê~ in Hades--not to
have drunk the waters of Lethe--is occasionally alluded to in
poetico-religious utterances of later times as a special privilege
of the good, e.g. _Epigr. Gr._ 204, 11 (first century B.C.); 414,
10. ~Lê/thês~ and ~Mnêmosu/nês pê/gê~ in Hades (as in the sanctuary
of Trophonios at Lebadea, Paus. 9, 39, 8); _Epigr._ 1037 (cf. above,
chap. vii, n. 21; chap. xi, n. 96; and see also below).]
[38\12: ~toi=si la/mpei me/n me/nos aeli/ou ta\n entha/de nu/kta
ka/tô~ _fr._ 129. In this naive conception, what Helios only
threatens to do in Homer, ~du/somai eis Aï/dao kai\ en neku/essi
phaei/nô~, he does in reality and regularly during the earthly
night. The same idea must be referred to in _O._ ii, 61 ff., ~i/son
de\ nu/ktessin aiei\ i/son en hame/rais ha/lion e/chontes~ (so
Boeckh)--the ~esthloi/~ live in the ~chô=ros eusebô=n~ in Hades:
they have by night and day the same sun (as we: the ~apone/steron~
of 62 also implies this), that is to say, just as much of the sun as
we have on earth only in reverse order of time. The sun only shines
upon the ~eusebei=s~ below; ~mo/nois ga\r hêmi=n hê/lios kai\
phe/ggos hilaro/n esti~ sing the initiated in Hades in Ar., _Ran._
454 f. (but it is the _same_ sun which shines upon them as shines on
us, ~phô=s ka/lliston hô/sper entha/de~ 155. solemque suum sua
sidera norunt is a subtlety of later excogitation). Helios shining
by night in Hades occurs again in the late Greek Hymn ~eis Hê/lion~
(_Orph._, p. 291 Ab.), v, 11, ~ê\n gai/ês keuthmô=na mo/lê|s neku/ôn
t' epi\ chô=ron~. _Epigr. Gr._ 228b, 7-8, ~Lêtogene/s, su\ de\
pai=das en hêrô/essi phula/ssois, _eusebe/ôn aei\ chô=ron
epercho/menos_~.]
[39\12: _O._ ii, 75 ff.]
[40\12: _fr._ 133 ~ena/tô| e/teï~. What is meant is beyond all
question "after the expiration of an _ennaëteris_" (period of 99
months, i.e. 8 years and 3 intercalary months), a period which
besides being familiar as a cycle of religious festivals (Apolline
specially but not exclusively) also occurs in the ancient procedure
of atonement for murder as the period of self-banishment and
servitude in a foreign land undergone by the murderer. Apollo after
slaying Python serves ~me/gan eis eniauto/n~ (i.e. an ennaëteris) in
the house of Admetos (i.e. the god of the lower world) and then
returns purified (Müller, _Dorians_, i, 338); in the same way
Herakles serves Eurystheus (at least a trace of this is found in
[Apollod.] 2, 5, 11, 1; see Müller, _Dorians_, i, 445).--After the
murder of Iphitos Herakles has to serve as bondsman to Omphale
(peculiar in this case is the combination of this species of
atonement for murder with the buying-off of the relatives of the
murdered man [Apollod.] 2, 6, 2, 5; D.S. 4, 31, 5). At the end of
this period of service he is once more "pure" (~hagno\s ê=n~ S.,
_Trach._ 258).--Kadmos after slaying the dragon and the ~Spartoi/~
serves Ares (the chthonic?) for an ~eniauto/s~ of eight years
[Apollod.] 3, 4, 2, 1; Müller, _Orchomen._ 213.--Hippotes after the
murder of Mantis has to fly the country ~de/ka e/tê~ [Apollod.] 2,
8, 3, 3.--On the analogy of this custom the gods, too, who have
broken an oath sworn by the Styx are banished nine years from the
rest of the Olympians (and confined to Hades, since menial service
of the ~chtho/nioi~ is the essential idea of all such
~apeniautismo/s~), Hes., _Th._ 793 ff.: Orph. _fr._ 157. With a
reminiscence of this expiatory banishment Pindar makes the souls at
the conclusion of their earthly pilgrimage (which is itself a
banishment) undergo a final period of penance in Hades for an
ennaëteris, at the end of which the ~poinê/~ for the ancient crime
is regarded as completely paid off.--The life on earth and the
period in Hades which follows is regarded as an exile of the souls
(on account of serious crime).--Such an idea was most natural if the
real home of the soul was thought of as being {445} a divine (not
earthly) country; the idea occurs quite clearly in Empedokles
(certainly uninfluenced by the brief allusions of Pindar); see
above, chap. xi, n. 75.]
[41\12: _fr._ 133. The similarity to the promises made by Emped.
_fr._ 146 (457 f.) is immediately apparent, but is not to be
explained by imitation of Pindar by Emped., but simply by the
similarity of imaginative outlook which led to similar results in
the two cases.--Elevation to the rank of Hero is the reward which
next awaits the man who is born a king, according to this view. Very
remarkable is the manner in which Pindar, _O._ ii, 58-62, effects
the transition to his eschatological statement: the man who
possesses ~plou=tos aretai=s dedaidalme/nos~ knows the future, viz,
what we are then told about the fate of the soul hereafter. This
assertion, which seems to attribute to the virtuous Great Man at
once a higher and a profounder knowledge, is perhaps best explained
by the allusions of _fr._ 133. He who has reached this highest stage
of earthly happiness must deduce from that very circumstance that
for him now it is fated after another death to become a Hero. He
therefore knows that everything, indeed, happens that is related in
ll. 63-74, but that before him in particular lies that which follows
in ll. 75 ff.; and this is to be regarded as the real import of what
the man in question "knows", 62, while the rest, 63-74, is only
added for the sake of completeness. Theron, therefore--for it is he
who is alluded to throughout--may be assured beforehand that after
death he will be gathered to the Heroes. This is what Pindar means
to say here, or at least to give the ~sunetoi/~ to understand 91 ff.
As a matter of historical fact Theron was worshipped with ~hêrôïkai\
timai/~ after his death, D.S. xi, 53, 2.]
[42\12: _fr._ 133. There is according to Dissen a contradiction
between _fr._ 133 and _O._ ii, 75 ff.: in the latter three periods
of life on earth are necessary before the final departure, in _fr._
133 only two. This variation would be got rid of if we could adopt
the interpretation given by Ty. Mommsen, _adnot. crit. Olymp._ 30,
and assert that in _O._ ii also Pindar only speaks of two earthly
lives with a single residence in Hades intervening. But the words
~es tri\s hekate/rôthi mei/nantes~, 75-6, can hardly bear any other
interpretation than "three times on each of the two sides" (not: "on
both sides--once on that side, twice on this side: total three
times"). At the same time there is nothing in _fr._ 133 to prevent
us taking the same number of lives (three as a minimum) to be
implied there too. We are not there told that the birth as kings,
etc., must always be the one to follow the first birth: in this case
also two earlier lives may have gone before.]
[43\12: See above, chap. iv, § 8.]
[44\12: ~e/teilan Dio\s hodo\n para\ Kro/nou tu/rsin~, _O._ ii, 77.
What exactly is to be understood by the "way of Zeus" was presumably
clearer to the ~sunetoi/~ versed in the mythology of mysticism for
whom Pindar is here writing, than it is to us. It must mean (as
Boeckh supposes) the way which Zeus treads in order to reach that
Island, far to the West in Okeanos, inaccessible as the Land of the
Hyperboreans to ship or traveller on foot; it is a special
~athana/tôn hodo/s~ like that which leads to Homer's grotto of the
Nymphs, ~n~ 112. Acc. to Bergk, _Opusc._ ii, 708, it is "certain"
that Pindar means the Milky Way. Along this the gods travel to the
house of Zeus, Ovid, _M._ i, 168; and Orpheus in the same way _fr._
123, 17 Ab., speaks of the ~theô=n hodoi\ ouraniô/nôn~ in the
heavens. But the souls could only be made to travel along the Milky
Way if their habitation was placed in the sky as it often was later.
So, as Bergk points out, following Lob., _Agl._ 935, {446} the
Empedotimos of Herakld. Pont. calls the Milky Way ~hodo\s psuchô=n
tô=n ha=|dên to\n en oura/nô| diaporeuome/nôn~ ap. Philop. in
Arist., _Mete._, p. 117, 10 Hayd.; see above, chap. ix, n. 111. But
Pindar situates his ~maka/rôn nê=sos~ in the Ocean (78): it is
difficult to see how the souls could arrive there on the Milky Way
from the place where they find themselves after death. (We may
surely acquit Pindar of the later fancies about an Okeanos in the
heavens.) Q.S. iii, 761 ff. (cited by Tafel) knows of a special way
belonging to the gods which leads from heaven down to the ~Êlu/sion
pedi/on~. But the way by which the souls reach the ~maka/rôn nê=sos~
does not, like that way, begin in heaven. We should rather think of
some way only passable for gods and spirits leading from the
inhabited world over the pathless Ocean to the latter's "sources"
far in the West.]
[45\12: In _O._ ii, 84-5, it is certainly Kronos who is meant (as
Didymos took it, though he gave an absurd interpretation of the
passage) and not Zeus as Aristarchos imagined. The exceedingly
corrupt and (owing to the intrusion of glosses) unmetrical lines are
beyond certain restoration: the emendations of the Byzantine
scholars give the required sense.--What happened to the incorrigibly
wicked? In accordance with the theory of the soul's Transmigration
two alternative views as to their fate were possible: they might be
regarded as passing from body to body unceasingly (Empedokl.) or as
doing penance by suffering eternal punishment in Hell (as with Plato
and others). The circumstances in which he alludes to these matters
do not give Pindar any special occasion to declare himself for
either view. He has only to speak of the final condition of the
just; the fate of the ~asebei=s~ is left in semi-obscurity.
Something about the matter is, however, said in _fr._ 132; ~psuchai\
asebe/ôn~ hover under the vault of heaven that covers the earth
(~gai/a|~ either corrupt or grammatically bad Greek), while the
pious above the vault of heaven (~epoura/nioi~) sing to the "Great
Blessed One". Everything in this is un-Pindaric, the inadequacy and
even incorrectness of the language (~molpai=s en hu/mnois~), the
unconcealed monotheism of the phrase ~ma/kara me/gan~, the
conception of the souls as having nothing else to do than sing to
the One God, the whole idea that these blessed ones dwell "in
heaven". This last is an idea familiar to Greeks of a later period,
nor is the division of souls into ~hupoura/nioi~ and ~epoura/nioi~
unknown to them; cf. _Epigr. Gr._ 650, 9 ff. But Pindar cannot have
written anything of the kind. It is even doubtful whether Clem. Al.
who, _Str._ iv, 640 P., names as the author of the lines ~to\n
melopoio/n~, meant Pindar by the words: Theodoret. (_Gr. Aff. C._
viii, 599 C), who attributes the second half of the frag. to Pindar,
had no other source but the same Clem. Al. But it may be doubted
whether the whole is to be attributed to any Greek of the older
faith. It has quite the appearance, as Zeller, _Socr. and
Socratics_, p. 24, n. 3, strikingly suggests, of one of those
_Jewish_ forgeries in which Jewish monotheism and the ideas
connected with it were to be fathered upon Greek antiquity. Welcker,
_Kl. Schr._ v, 252 ff.; Götterl._ i, 741 f., defends the _fr._ (and
most unconvincingly connects the ~psuchai\ hupoura/nioi~ and
~epoura/nioi~ of the _fr._ with the quite different ~dai/mones
epichtho/nioi~ and ~hupochtho/nioi~ of Hes., _Op._ 123 and 141). He
thinks he can defend the genuineness of the lines (which had already
been declared spurious by Dissen) by pointing to the words of Horace
about Pindar's ~thrê=noi~ (_O._ iv, 2, 21): flebili sponsae iuvenem
raptum plorat, et vires animumque moresque aureos educit in astra
nigroque invidet Orco. Even supposing that this referred to the
transport of the souls to the stars the witness of Horace thus given
would only {447} remove a single difficulty from a passage that has
other overwhelming difficulties in profusion. But Horace says
nothing of the transport of the "Soul" to the heavenly regions,
_vires_, _animus_, _mores_, all these together refer not at all to
the ~psuchê/~ but to the ~ê=thos~ and the ~aretai/~ of the dead.
Pindar, Horace means, rescues the memory of the nature and merits of
the youth from decay: only the fame which the poet secures for him
is under discussion. _educit in astra_ and _invidet Orco_ mean
nothing more than: he rescues the memory of the dead from oblivion,
exactly as in the epitaph quoted above, n. 20: ~houde\ thanô\n
areta=s o/num' ô/lesas alla/ se Pha/ma kudai/nous' ana/gei dô/matos
ex Aï/da~. Thus, it is least of all to be concluded from Horace's
words that Pindar transported the souls of the ~eusebei=s~ into the
heavens (rather that in the ~thrê=noi~--as much as anywhere else:
see above, n. 25--Pindar sometimes only recognizes the immortality
of fame: of that alone does Horace speak).]
[46\12: _O._ ii celebrates the victory which Theron had won at
Olympia in _Ol._ 76, but was probably written some time after that
victory. Theron died _Ol._ 77, 1, or 76, 4.]
[47\12: Sicily was rich in cults of ~chtho/nioi~, in which Gelon,
Hieron and their ancestors were hierophants, Hdt. vii, 153; Pi.,
_O._ vi, 95. So, too, Akragas the city of Theron (and the home of
Empedoldes which also is not without its importance) was
~Phersepho/nas he/dos~, Pi., _P._ xii, 2, having been given by Zeus
to Persephone on her marriage, Sch. Pi., _O._ ii, 16 (as also had,
in addition to other cities, Pindar's native city Thebes, Euphorion,
_fr._ 48; cf. Eur., _Phoen._ 684 ff. Theron's family traced its
descent from Eteokles the son of Oedipus). It is very possible that
the hopes of a blessed immortality of the soul such as were fostered
in many ways in the cult of the ~chtho/nioi~ and particularly in
that of Persephone, should have been familiar to Theron from such a
cult and attractive to him.]
[48\12: The theological character of much of Pindar's work makes
knowledge of mystic doctrine not surprising in him. In _fr._ 137 he
speaks of the Eleusinia (to which he otherwise owes nothing). In
_fr._ 131, though the words are unfortunately most corrupt and
probably contain lacunae as they have been transmitted, he speaks of
the "releasing Initiations", ~olbi/a d' ha/pantes ai=sa lusi/ponon
_teleta/n_~--this is the form of the words required by the metre
(dactylo-epitritic), and thus (not ~teleuta/n~) they appear in Plu.,
_Cons. Apoll._ 35, p. 120 D, and also in cod. Vatic. 139 (which I
have collated).]
[49\12: _IG._ xiv = _IG. Sic. et It._, 641, 1-2-3. [Harrison-Murray,
_Prolegom._ 661 ff.; _Vors._ 66 B, 18, 19.]--The inscription of the
oldest of these poems belongs to the fourth century B.C. The verses
can, however, be cited here because the original or rather the two
originals upon which the poems are modelled were older than the
oldest of the three surviving inscr. (which itself shows serious
corruption of the primitive text); and nothing prevents us from
supposing that the original forms of these verses go to the fifth
century.--The common ancestor of versions 2 and 3 is not derived
from version 1, even in the parts in which it agrees with that
version, but from a still older original.--Acc. to Dieterich,
_Nekyia_ 128 f., 135 f., the lines are taken from a poem of
_Orpheus'_ descent to Hades; but of this they themselves offer not
the slightest suggestion.]
[50\12: The feminine ~e/rchomai ek katharô=n kathara/~--and also
~nu=n d' hike/tis hêkô~ (though this indeed is metrically impossible)
_IG._ xiv, 641, 2, l. 6--refers probably to the ~psuchê/~ and not to
the sex of the dead person as though a woman were speaking in all
three cases. Moreover, in {448} No. 1, 9, Persephone speaks as
though to a man ~o/lbie kai\ makariste/, theo\s d' e/sê| anti\
brotoi=o~.]
[51\12: l. 1, ~e/rchomai ek katharô=n kathara/, chthoni/ôn
basi/leia~. This is certainly the right punctuation (and is given by
the editors), and not Hofmann's ~ek katharô=n, kathara\ chth. b.~
"Pure and born of the pure" (referring to the immediate parents of
the dead: more distant ancestry would be expressed by ~apo/~); cf.
~ka/kistos kak kakô=n~, etc. (Nauck on Soph., _OT._ 1397; _Ph._
874); ~agathoi\ ex agathô=n o/ntes~, Andoc., _M._ 109.]
[52\12: The parents are ~katharoi/~, the soul of the dead
~kathara/~, simply as being "purified", "sanctified", in ~teletai/~
of the ~chtho/nioi~. In the same way, elsewhere, the Mystai are
~ho/sioi~ "the pure": see above, chap. vi, n. 18.]
[53\12: ~kai\ ga\r egô\n humô=n ge/nos o/lbion eu/chomai ei=men~--so
in all three versions.]
[54\12: ~alla/ me moi=r' eda/masse kai\ asteropê=ta keraunô=n~
(particip.): so in the original to which the readings of three
versions point, as restored by O. Hofmann in _GDI._ 1654.
~asteroblê=ta~ is in No. 1--this might simply = ~asteropoblê=ta~,
but it may only have been substituted by mistake for ~asteropê=ta
( = asteropêtê/s~ of Homer). The line in this form occurs in No. 1,
4. Versions 2 and 3 have ~_ei/te_ me moi=r' eda/mass' _ei/t'_
astropê=ta keraunô=n~. But the dead had no _choice_ between natural
death (for this is what ~moi=ra~ must mean as contrasted with death
by the thunderbolt) and death by being struck by lightning; one or
other of the two (or more) forms of death must in actual fact have
occurred. In this embarrassment--for death by lightning is not a
very frequent occurrence--the ancient verse was altered in such a
way that it might refer also to one who had died a natural death.
The attempt was indeed not a great success. Originally death by
lightning can alone have been mentioned (as in No. 1) and the
original form of the lines must have referred to someone who had
actually perished in this way. The dead person was then immediately
regarded as sanctified simply on account of the method of his death;
he became a ~_hiero\s_ nekro/s~ translated to a higher and continued
life: see above, chap. ix, n. 127, and Appendix i. This is the only
interpretation of the lines which gives any point to the
introduction here of this peculiar manner of death--one who has been
thus translated out of life will certainly now be ~theo\s anti\
brotoi=o~.]
[55\12: ~ku/klos tê=s gene/seôs~, rota fati, etc. Lob., _Agl._ 798
ff.]
[56\12: ~himertou= d' epe/ban stepha/nou posi\ karpali/moisi,
Despoi/nas d' hupo\ ko/lpon e/dun chthoni/as basilei/as~, No. 1,
6-7. The ~ste/phanos~ will probably be the sacred precinct, the
enclosure that surrounds the realm of Persephone, as Dieterich, _De
hymn. Orph._ 35, very plausibly suggests.]
[57\12: See Appendix xi.]
[58\12: ~hô/s me pro/phrôn pe/mpsê| he/dras es euage/ôn~. The
~he/drai euage/ôn~ correspond to the ~chô=ros eusebô=n~ of other
poets and mythologists. But the strange phrase does also contain an
allusion to the fact that this paradise of the "pure" is specially
reserved for the initiates of the mysteries. The ~euagê/s~, the man
untouched by any ~a/gos~, is ~ho/sios (ho/sios e/stô kai\ euagê/s~
law ap. And., _M._ 96): ~euagei=n = hosiou=n~ in an ins. from
Ialysos in Rhodes, _IGM. Aeg._ i, 677. Ordinary non-religious
language also preserves the original meaning of the word: it
frequently means (in contrast to ~skotô/dês~ and the like) "bright,
pure, clean" (and in places, too, where it is customary to insert
without good reason ~euaugê/s~, following the ex. of Hemsterh. on
Eur., _Suppl._ 662).]
[59\12: The similarity with the stages of the reward given to the
good in Pindar is obvious: ~chô=ros eusebô=n~ in Hades; then and not
till then {449} escape from the underworld and from human life as
well. The only difference is that in Pi. the soul's final end is to
become a ~hê/rôs~ while here it becomes ~theo/s~.]
[60\12: _IG._ xiv, 642.]
[61\12: id. 641, 1, v, 10, ~e/riphos es ga/l' e/peton~. 642, 4,
~theo\s ege/nou ex anthrô/pou. e/riphos es ga/la e/petes~. The
conjunction of the two phrases in 642 shows that "As a kid I fell
into the milk" is a condition of "I became a God". We may certainly
recognize in the phrase a ~su/nthêma~ or ~su/mbolon~ of the Mystai
like those usual in other secret initiatory rites--~ek tumpa/nou
ephagon ktl.~, Lob. 23 ff.--which refer to performance of symbolical
actions in the initiation ceremonies. The precise sense of _this_
~su/nthêma~ cannot be made out (Dieterich's efforts, _H. Orph._, p.
35, have not succeeded in clearing up the matter).]
[62\12: Worth remarking is the instruction ~all' hopo/tam' psuchê\
proli/pê| pha/os aeli/oio, _dexio\n_ eisie/nai pephulagme/nos eu=
ma/la pa/nta~ (this or something like it may have been the original
form of the lines which have been thrown into confusion by the
intrusion of the explanatory words ~dei= tina~). Then at the
conclusion ~(ô=) chai=re chai=re, dexia\n hodoiporô=n leimô=na/s te
hierou\s kai\ a/lsea Phersephonei/as.~ (~kai/~: this and nothing
else is probably concealed by the KAT of the inscription--~kai/~
long before a vowel in 3rd thesis is even in Homer not unheard of.)
Here at a comparatively early date we meet with the legend of the
Two Ways at the entrance to the underworld, of which that to the
right leads to the ~chô=ros eusebô=n~, the left to the place of
punishment of the ~a/dikoi~. It may derive from the fancies of South
Italian mystic sects. ~dexio/n~ and ~aristero/n~ in the Pythagorean
table of Opposites--and in _oionistike_ for a long time before
that--mean the same as ~agatho/n~ and ~kako/n~ (Arist., _Metaph._ 1,
5, p. 986a, 24; cf. Iamb., _VP._ 156).--The ~U~ Pythagoreum denoted
the parting of the ways of life to the right (to virtue) and to the
left (vice): Serv., _A._ vi, 136; cf. O. Jahn, _Pers._, p. 155 f.
Plato transferred the Two Ways to the underworld probably following
Pythagorean example, _Rp._ 614 C; cf. ~tô\ hodô/~, _Gorg._ 524 A;
_divorso itinere_, Cato ap. Sall., _C._ 52, 13, in a Platonist
passage. To the right the fountain of Mnemosyne, to the left that of
Lethe--grave-tablet from Petelia: _Epigr. Gr._ 1037 = _IG._ xiv.
638. The Two Ways in the underworld (of which that to the right hand
regularly leads to salvation) are also spoken of by the ~poêtê/s~
whose lines are quoted by Hippol., _RH._ 5, 8, p. 164, 80 D.-S.
(perhaps "Orpheus" as Dieterich, _Nek._ 193 thinks); cf. also Verg.,
_A._ vi, 540 ff., Hegesipp., _AP._ vii, 545, and the Jewish forgery
under the name of Philem., Mein. 4, 67, 6 f. (ii, p. 539
K.).--_Three_ Ways in the world of the spirits, which he takes as
being in the sky, are seen by the Empedotimos of Herakld. Pont. (see
above, chap. ix, n. 111): Serv., _G._ i, 34. Plutarch also alludes
to _three_ Ways in the underworld, _Lat. Viv._ vii, p. 1130, for in
giving his quotation from Pindar's ~thrê=nos~ _fr._ 129-30 he
suddenly, without having previously said anything about the other
two Ways, speaks of the ~_tri/tê_ tô=n anosi/ôs bebiôko/tôn kai\
para/nomôn _hodo/s_~ which leads into Erebos. We should suppose that
he found these three Ways in Pindar whom he is making use of
throughout the passage. Three Ways would seem natural to one who
knew of three classes of souls; the ~eusebei=s~ and the ~asebei=s~
having in between them those who have not strayed seriously from
either side of the middle way of ordinary morality and deserve
neither reward nor severe punishment. To these then was probably
allotted, instead of the bliss or sorrow of the two other classes,
the indifferent state of the Homeric ~ei/dôla kamo/ntôn~. So at
least it appears from Lucian, _Luct._ 7-9. A similar triple {450}
division occurs in a popular form ap. D.H. viii, 52 ad fin.: (1) a
place of punishment, a kind of Tartaros: (2) ~to\ lê/thês pedi/on~
(which is here the indifferent state); (3) the ~aithê/r~ which is the
dwelling-place of the Blessed. Verg., too, has three classes, but he
places the middling characters in the _limbus infantium_, beyond
which the road first divides towards Elysium and Tartarus. Did
Pindar then anticipate these and incidentally--he need not have been
logically consistent about it--introduce such a triple division of
the souls?]
[63\12: Plato's violent attacks on poets and poetry--in which
nevertheless acc. to his own account ~oude\n spoudê=s chari/n, alla\
paidia=s he/neka pa/nta dra=tai~--show once more clearly enough that
in his time the old Greek view of the poets as the true _teachers_
of their age was by no means a thing of the past. It was precisely
as teachers, whether rightly or wrongly so regarded, that they
seemed to him dangerous and worth opposing.]
[64\12: Aristophanes is only formulating popular opinion--and in
unusually naive language--when he says _Ran._ 1030 ~tau=ta ga\r
a/ndras chrê\ poiêta\s askei=n; ske/psai ga\r ap' archê=s hôs
_ôphe/limoi_ tô=n poiêtô=n hoi gennai=oi gege/nêntai ktl.~ And again
1053 ff. where he is referring particularly to tragic dramatists,
~apokru/ptein chrê\ to\ ponêro\n to/n ge poiêtê/n, kai\ mê\
para/gein mêde\ dida/skein. toi=s me\n ga\r paidari/oisin e/sti
dida/skalos ho/stis phra/zei, toi=s hêbô=sin de\ poiêtai/~.]
[65\12: This idea is alluded to as early as ~D~ 160 ff. Then Hes.,
_Op._ 282 ff. It is established for Hdt.; cf. i, 91, vi, 86. Further
examples collected by Nägelsbach, _Nachhom. Theol._ 34 f. Thgn. 205
ff., 731 ff., is particularly definite. Among Attic authors; cf.
Sol., _fr._ 13, 29 (~_anai/tioi_ e/rga ti/nousin~); E., _Hipp._ 831
ff., 1378 ff. (where note ~to\n oude\n o/nt' epai/tion~), _fr._ 980;
[Lys.] 6, 20; Lycurg. 79. It is briefly alluded to as a commonly
held opinion by Isoc. 11, 25; cf. Lys., _fr._ 53 Th. The case of
Diagoras of Melos the ~a/theos~ may also be remembered; cf. above,
chap. vii, n. 16.--This idea of the punishment of the son for the
deeds of the father receives its justification acc. to Plu., _Ser.
Nu. Vi._ 16, 559 D (quite in accordance with primitive ideas) in the
unity that belongs to all the members of the same ~ge/nos~--so that
in the person of the son it is the father himself, though he may be
dead, who is also punished. The idea arises from the deeply
ingrained feeling of the unity, solidarity, and continuity of the
ancient family cult-circle pre-supposed by the cult of souls. (This
is primitive and meets us, e.g. in India as well: "release us from
the wrongs that our fathers have done; take away the sins of that we
ourselves have committed" is the prayer to Varuna in the Rigveda, 7,
86, 5. ~ta\ ek prote/rôn aplakê/mata~ are transferred also to the
next generation "like a pestilence-breeding substance", Oldenberg,
_Rel. d. V._ 289. Elsewhere the conception emerges that the guilty
ancestor lives again in the descendant and is punished in his
person: Robinsohn, _Psychol. d. Naturv._ 47.)]
[66\12: It is precisely on this point, namely, that evil does not
befall men without their own fault, that the Chorus, i.e. the poet,
of the _Agamemnon_ (757), acknowledges ~di/cha d' a/llôn mono/phrôn
eimi/~.]
[67\12: In this way, too, the Stoics saved the responsibility of men
for their own deeds in spite of the unavoidable ~eimarme/nê~. The
deeds would not have come to fruition if the personal
~sugkata/thesis~ of the man had not been added to the original
necessary cause conditioning the acts. The ~sugk.~, though not
itself "free", yet always remains ~eph' hêmi=n~ and makes us
responsible: Cic., _Fat._ 18; Nemes. _Nat. Hom._, p. 291 Matth.]
{451}
[68\12: Clearly so from l. 689 onwards.]
[69\12: ~ta\ ga\r ek prote/rôn aplakê/mata/ nin pro\s ta/sd' (ta\s
Erinu/as) apa/gei~, _Eum._ 934.]
[70\12: Only when Eteokles and Polyneikes have fallen in single
combat ~e/lêxe dai/môn~, _Sept._ 956.]
[71\12: This idea is quite common in Homer (Nägelsbach, _Hom.
Theol._ 70 f., 320 f.), and in later times reappears frequently in
the case of such authors as always, or on occasion, express popular
ideas: Thgn. Hdt. esp. Eur. (cf. _Fr. Trag. Adesp._ 4, 55 N.), and
the orators: see Nägelsbach, _Nachhom. Th._ 54 ff., 332 f., 378.]
[72\12: ~apa/tês _dikai/as_ ouk apostatei= theo/s~, _fr._ 301 S.
This, too, must be the meaning of other expressions in which the
poet refers less plainly to the righteous purpose of divine
deception: _Pers._ 93 ff., 742; _frr._ 156, 302 (cf. also _Suppl._
403 f.).--Aristoph. makes his Clouds speak quite in accordance with
the Aeschylean ideas, _Nub._ 1458 ff. This grim idea must, in fact,
have had considerable success and spread beyond the stage. Falsehood
and deception for a good end presented no difficulty to the mind of
the Greeks (even as applied to their gods). Hence Sokrates (in
Xen.), Plato, and certain Stoics could quite openly approve of and
recommend such falsehoods (and the author of the ~Diale/xeis~, c. 3
in defending the same theory also appeals to the lines of Aesch.).]
[73\12: _Ag._ 1497-1508. Here there is a clear opposition between
the popular view which attributed all guilt to an ~ala/stôr~
tempting to crime (a reminiscence of which appears in Soph., _El._
197 ff.), and the more elevated conception of the poet who holds
fast to the view that though the ~ala/stôr~ may contribute to the
result the agent of the evil deed is not ~anai/tios~.]
[74\12: The dead man stands in need of the cult paid by his
surviving kinsfolk, _Cho._ 484 (his grave a ~bômo/s~, _Cho._ 106;
~choai\ gamê/lioi~ for him, 486 f.). As an appeasement of his easily
aroused wrath ~choai\ nerte/rôn meili/gmata~, _Cho._ 15. The dead
man is still conscious of events both past and present upon earth:
~phro/nêma tou= thano/ntos ou dama/zei puro\s malera\ gna/thos~,
_Cho._ 324 f. In the song of awakening addressed to the departed and
the invocations sung by Electra and the Chorus in _Cho._ the soul of
Agamem. is similarly regarded as fully alive and accessible to the
callers (though, indeed, ~ex amaura=s phreno/s~ 157) and addressed
accordingly (cf. 139, 147 f., 156 f., 479 ff.; _Pers._ 636). It is
even expected that his soul, invisibly present in the upper world,
will take an active share in the work of vengeance: ~a/kouson es
pha/os molô/n, xu\n de\ genou= pro\s echthrou/s~, _Cho._ 459; cf.
489. So, too, Orestes, _Eum._ 598, hopes in his extremity of need
that ~arôga\s ek ta/phou pe/mpsei patê/r~. More especially the
murdered man has a right to be avenged by his ~agchistei=s (oud' ap'
a/llôn~, _Cho._ 472) and Apollo himself has commanded Orestes to
take such vengeance, _Cho._ 269 ff., etc. Dread results of
neglecting this duty, _Cho._ 278-96 (possibly an interpolated
passage, but still an extension of the words of A. himself 271 ff.
in a sense thoroughly in consonance with popular belief).]
[75\12: The Erinyes only avenge the murder of a blood-relation and
not therefore when one of a married pair is murdered by the other,
_Eum._ 210-12, 604 ff. But the opinion emerges that they are
particularly charged with the vengeance of a _mother_ who has been
murdered by her son (rather than a father who has suffered the same
fate), 658 ff., 736 ff. (Reminiscences of such a view in S., _El._
341 ff., 352 ff.; E., _Orest._ 552 ff., _fr._ 1064.) This may
possibly be an old popular belief (not fully understood by A.
himself) which need not, however (as is often {452} supposed),
depend upon an ancient system of "matriarchy" for which there is no
other evidence in Greece. It is simply explained by the fact that
the father has plenty of men still living among his kinsfolk who
will avenge him (even against his own son), whereas the mother who
is separated from her _own_ family can expect no avenger from that
side, while in the family of her husband there will be nobody yet
old enough to take vengeance on her own son. For this reason it is
for her most particularly and necessarily that the daimonic avengers
of murder must intervene, and they are the Erinyes, who are always
thought of as only active where no earthly avenger is available.--Of
course, it could never be denied that there exists also ~_patro\s_
euktai/an Erinu/n~, _Sep._ 783.]
[76\12: ~dai/môn, theo/s, di=os ana/ktôr, isodai/môn basileu/s~ are
titles given only to the dead Persian king, _Pers._ 620, 633, 644,
651. They are, however, probably intended to characterize Persian
and not Greek beliefs (the Greek king, too, is still a king in
Hades, but not a ~dai/môn~, _Cho._ 355-62).]
[77\12: ~kakei= dika/zei tamplakê/math', hôs _lo/gos_, Zeu\s a/llos~
(cf. ~Zê=na tô=n kekmêko/tôn~ 158) ~en kamou=sin husta/tas di/kas~,
_Suppl._ 230 f.; cf. 414 ff.--~me/gas ga\r Ha/idês esti\n eu/thunos
brotô=n e/nerthe chtho/nos, deltogra/phô| de\ pa/nt' epôpa=|
phreni/~, _Eum._ 273 ff. Not even in Hades do the Erinyes let the
murderer go, _Eum._ 340. The punishment in Hades seems to be
regarded as merely supplementary to the (perhaps delayed) punishment
of crime on earth ~rhopê\ d' episkopei= di/kas tachei=a _tou\s me\n_
en pha/ei, ta\ d' en metaichmi/ô| sko/tou me/nei chroni/zontas
a/chê, tou\s d' a/kratos e/chei nu/x~, _Cho._ 61 ff.]
[78\12: ~tou\s thano/ntas ei the/leis euergetei=n ei/t' ou=n
kakourgei=n, amphidexi/ôs e/chei tô=| mê/te chai/rein mê/te
lupei=sthai nekrou/s~, _fr_ 266. This does, not, however, agree with
_Cho._ 324 f., or with the frequently occurring expressions which
presuppose consciousness and feeling (and so also ~chai/rein~ and
~lupei=sthai~) in the dead. Consistency in such matters must not, in
fact, be looked for in a non-theological poet. The ~psuchê/~ of the
dead man a shadow without the sap of life, _fr._ 229. Death a refuge
from earthly suffering, _fr._ 255. The speedy death which the Chorus
wish for themselves, _Ag._ 1449 ff., brings with it ~to\n aei\
ate/leuton hu/pnon~ and therefore a condition of unconsciousness if
not of complete nothingness.--The shadow of Dareios takes his leave
of the Persian nobles in the foll. words: ~humei=s de/, pre/sbeis,
chai/ret', en kakoi=s ho/môs psuchê\n dido/ntes hêdonê=| kath'
hême/ran, hôs toi=s thanou=si plou=tos oude\n ôphelei=~, _Pers._ 840
ff. This view of life is perhaps intended to have an Oriental
colouring (like the epitaph of Sardanapalus which is rightly quoted
in illustration of this passage); the reason given ~hôs toi=s
thanou=si ktl.~ is perhaps to be similarly explained.]
[79\12: ~_e/ndikoi_ sphagai/~, 37. Orestes is to his father's house
~_di/kê|_ kathartê\s pro\s theô=n hôrmême/nos~ 70.]
[80\12: One reason why no Erinys pursues Orestes after he has
murdered his mother is, indeed, the fact that Sophokles is treating
the "Elektra" in isolation as an independent drama and could not
therefore introduce a fresh thread of interest at the end, if he was
to bring it to a satisfactory conclusion. But the mere fact that he
could so arrange matters shows that for him, in contrast with
Aeschylus, the belief in the veritable reality of the Erinys and the
necessary perpetuation of the idea of vengeance in the family was
already obscured and almost obsolete. The ancient family blood-feud
is less important to him than the rights of the separate and
independent individual.]
[81\12: Casual allusions, _El._ 504 ff.; _OC._ 965; _Ant._ 856; and
cf. 584 ff., 594 ff.] {453}
[82\12: ~ou ga\r i/dois a\n athrô=n broto\n ho/stis a\n, ei theo\s
a/goi, ekphugei=n du/naito~, _O.C._ 252. ~ho/tan de/ tis theô=n
bla/ptê|, du/nait' a\n oud' a\n ho sthe/nôn phugei=n~, _El._ 696 f.
~ai/schê me/n, ô= gunai=kes, oud' a\n hei=s phu/goi brotô=n poth'
hô=| kai\ Zeu\s~ (as the one who rules and ordains everything, cf.
_El._ 175; _O.C._ 1085) ~ephormê/sê| kaka/; no/sous d' ana/gkê ta\s
theêla/tous phe/rein~, _fr._ 619 N.]
[83\12: _Phil._ 191-200.]
[84\12: It is fixed long before by an oracle: 821 ff.; 1159 ff. It
is not exactly overpowering violence or heaven-sent madness that
drives Deianeira to carry out the prophecy; it is rather an obscure
force that transforms her purest intentions to an evil result. She
herself is completely innocent: ~hê/marte chrêsta\ môme/nê~.]
[85\12: The reason for this will of the gods is not revealed to us,
either in _OT._ or in the subsequent treatment given in _OC._ The
only thing that is made quite clear there is the complete innocence
of Oedipus; as to the meaning of the divine purpose that has plunged
him into such deeds of horror the sufferer can only say ~theoi=s
ga\r ê=n hou/tô phi/lon, ta/ch' a/n ti _mêni/ousin_ eis ge/nos
pa/lai~ (964 f.). This is a passage in which modern interpretation
of the ancients finds the "upholding of the moral order in the
world" clearly expressed as a motive of divine will.]
[86\12: ~kai\ ga\r ê=n tô=n theosebesta/tôn~, Sch., _El._ 831.]
[87\12: _fr._ 226 N., ~sopho\s ga\r oudei\s plê\n ho\n a\n tima=|
theo/s. all' eis theo/n s' horô=ta, ka\n _e/xô di/kês chôrei=n
keleu/ê|_, kei=s' hodoiporei=n chreô/n. aischro\n ga\r oude\n hô=n
huphêgou=ntai theoi/~.]
[88\12: Aias has angered the goddess because he has boasted that he
could do without her help. Thus he has drawn upon himself
~_astergê=_ thea=s orgê/n~, 776. The goddess makes him insane that
he may recognize ~tê\n theô=n ischu\n **ho/sê~, 118. Thus, her
superior power is shown and the folly of men who despise that power.
But as for showing that the revengeful act of the goddess has any
sort of moral purpose or meaning behind it, the pious poet makes no
such attempt.--The interpolation of ideas more familiar in modern
times does not make it any easier to understand the peculiar
character of such antique ~euse/beia~ and ~deisidaimoni/a~. The same
kind of fearful awe of the gods which we find here, runs through the
whole of Herodotos' historical writing (Hdt. was not without reason
a friend of Sophokles) and meets us again in the character of Nikias
and to a large extent in Xenophon, too. Thuc. and, on the whole,
Eurip. (for he varies) calmly ignore it or else violently reject it.
Its nature is shown (better than in the more usual ~euse/beia~) by
the phrase ~hê pro\s tou\s theou\s _eula/beia_~ which also occurs:
[D.] 59 (_Neaer._) 74.]
[89\12: _Trach._ 1266 f.; 1272 (where, however, there remains a
suspicion that the traditional text may be unsound); _fr._ 103 N.
Parallels occur also in _Phil._]
[90\12: There exists a region of divine mystery that is not to be
fathomed: ~ou ga\r a\n ta\ thei=a krupto/ntôn theô=n ma/thois a/n,
oud' ei pa/nt' epexe/lthois skopô=n~, _fr._ 833; cf. _OT._ 280 f.
and ~polla\ kai\ lathei=n kalo/n~, _fr._ 80 N.]
[91\12: The behaviour of Athene in the prologue of the _Aias_ is an
exception.]
[92\12: Odysseus beholding the insane Aias: ~epoikti/rô de/ nin
du/stênon o/nta kai/per o/nta dusmenê=, hothou/nek' a/tê|
sugkate/zeuktai kakê=|, oude\n to\ tou/tou ma=llon ê\ toumo\n
skopô=n; horô= ga\r hêma=s oude\n o/ntas a/llo plê\n ei/dôl'
ho/soiper zô=men, ê\ kou/phên skia/n~, _Ai._ 121 ff.]
[93\12: ~iô\ geneai\ brotô=n ktl.~ _OT._ 1186 ff.; ~ho/stis tou=
ple/onos me/rous chrê/|zei . . .~ _OC._ 1211-38; cf. _frr._ 12, 535,
536, 588, 859, 860.]
[94\12: Nor is Antigone affected by such motives as might appear
from a casual or isolated study of such lines as _Ant._ 73 ff. The
whole play {454} shows that Antig. throughout follows the ~a/grapta
kasphalê= theô=n no/mima~ and the instincts of her own nature,
without paying any attention to what may happen to her on earth and
without a side glance at what may be the result in the world below
of her "pious crime".]
[95\12: We often have ~en Ha/idou kekeutho/tôn~ (_Ant._ 911)
~muchou\s kichei=n tou= ka/tô theou=~ (_Ai._ 571) and other phrases
= "be dead" (cf. to be an ~oikê/tôr~ of Erebos, _Ai._ 395 ff. Hades
seems to be called ~pando/kos xeno/stasis~ _fr._ 252). The confusion
of the idea of a kingdom of Hades with that of the grave is shown in
the not infrequent expression ~en Ha/idou, par' Ha/idê|
_kei=sthai_~, _El._ 463; _OT._ 972; _Ph._ 861; ~phi/lê met' autou=
_kei/somai_ phi/lou me/ta~, _Ant._ 73; cf. _fr._ 518.]
[96\12: ~to\n apo/tropon Ha/idan~, _Ai._ 608; _fr._ 518.]
[97\12: The dead man is a ~skia/~, _Ai._ 1231. ~spodo\s kai\ skia\
anôphelê/s~, _El._ 1159a. ~mêde/n~, _El._ 1166; _Ai._ 1231.--In
spite of this, in the Homeric manner, a definite shape and a measure
of semi-conscious existence is presumed in the shades in Hades:
_OT._ 1371 ff.--Doubt: ~_ei/_ tis e/st' ekei= cha/ris~, _El._ 356.]
[98\12: ~thano/ntôn oude\n a/lgos a/ptetai~, _OC._ 955. ~toi=s ga\r
thanou=si mo/chthos ou prosgi/gnetai~, _Tr._ 1173. ~tou\s ga\r
thano/ntas ouch horô= lupoume/nous~, _El._ 1170. (All three lines
are denied to Soph. by the latest criticism.)]
[99\12: _Ph._ 797 f.; _Ai._ 854; _OC._ 1220 ff.; _fr._ 631 (cf. A.,
_fr._ 255; _Fr. Tr. Adesp._ 360. ~limê\n kakô=n ho tha/natos~, a
commonplace of later moralists: see Wyttenb. Plu., _Mor._ vi, p.
720, was taken over from tragedy).--The converse _fr._ 64, 275.]
[100\12: Collectively ~hoi ne/rteroi, hoi ne/rteroi theoi/~, _OC._
1661; _Ant._ 602. Hades in particular is often mentioned, and also
~Plou/tôn~: ~Ha/idês stenagmoi=s kai\ go/ois plouti/zetai~, _OT._
30; _fr._ 251. ~ho para\ to\n Ache/ronta (ta\n Ache/rontos akta/n~,
_Ant._ 812. ~akta\n hespe/rou theou=~, _OT._ 177) ~theo\s ana/ssôn~,
_El._ 184. Persephone and Aidoneus, _OC._ 1556 ff. Erinyes,
Thanatos, Kerberos: _OC._ 1568 ff. ~pompai=os Hermê=s chtho/nios~,
_Ai._ 832; and see _El._ 110 B., etc.--~Ha/idês~ (here as often =
~Tha/natos~) desires to devour men: ~dai/sasthai~, _El._ 542, f.--a
popular conception or at least popular language: see above, chap.
vii, n. 25.]
[101\12: Hades ~ho\s ou/te tou\pieike\s ou/te tê\n cha/rin oi=den,
monê\n d' e/sterxe tê\n haplôs di/kên~, _fr._ 703, i.e. the justice
of absolute equality (for all earthly distinctions have passed
away): ~ho/ g' Ha/idês tou\s no/mous i/sous pothei=~, _Ant._ 519.]
[102\12: ~hê ga\r euse/beia sunthnê/|skei brotoi=s~ (it dies when
the man dies to whom it belonged: i.e. it follows him, or his
~psuchê/~, into the lower-world. No textual corruption need be
assumed here, ~ka\n zô=si ka\n tha/nôsin ouk apo/llutai~, _Ph._ 1443
f.]
[103\12: Without ritual burial the dead man is ~tô=n ka/tôthe theô=n
a/moiros akte/ristos ano/sios ne/kus~, _Ant._ 1070 f.]
[104\12: ~enta/phia hoi=a toi=s ka/tô nomi/zetai~, _El._ 326.
~kteri/smata~, 434, 931. ~loutra/~, 84, 434 (cf. above, chap. v, nn.
106, 107), ~e/mpura~, 405. ~choai/~, 440.--_El._ 452, prayer is made
to the dead that he "shall help us and Orestes" ~ho/pôs to\ loipo\n
auto\n aphneôte/rais chersi\n ste/phômen ê\ ta\ nu=n dôrou/metha~
(at present only a lock of hair and a girdle, 448 ff.).--Offerings
to the dead made by foes and even the approach of such persons to
the neighbourhood of the grave is displeasing and hateful to the
departed who lies therein: _El._ 431 ff., 442 ff.; _Ai._ 1394 f.
(cf. above, chap. v, n. 109). In this case as in the cult of the
soul generally the presence of the dead man in the grave, or else in
its immediate neighbourhood, is presupposed--not his departure into
an inaccessible land of the dead. The latter view, retained from
Homeric {455} poetry, is generally allowed to remain incongruously
side by side with the former.]
[105\12: _El._ 1066 ff.]
[106\12: The god of the underworld is ~ouk aperi/tropos~ of the
murdered man: _El._ 182 f. Hence all the gods and spirits of the
lower world are summoned to take vengeance for the murder of
Agamemnon: _El._ 110-16. We hear of ~Di/kê hê xu/noikos tô=n ka/tô
theô=n~ as the patron of the dead in their claim to justice: _Ant._
451.]
[107\12: Herakles in giving his last commands to Hyllos finally
threatens the latter: ~ei de\ mê/, menô= s' egô\ kai\ ne/rthen ô/n,
arai=os eis aei\ baru/s~, _Tr._ 1201 f.; cf. _fr._ 367; see above,
chap. v, n. 148.]
[108\12: Elektra thinks that Agamemnon himself may have sent the
~duspro/sopt' onei/rata~ to Klytaimnestra: _El._ 459 f. (There is no
reason for altering the traditional text here--with Nauck--to make
the gods the senders of the dreams instead of the dead man.
~hê/rôes~, too, can send nocturnal visions of terror: see above,
chap. ix, n. 102.) Here Elektra supposes that by sending such
harbingers of his wrath the unavenged victim of murder has signified
his readiness to assist in the taking of vengeance. This makes
perfectly good sense and is the only interpretation that suits the
context of Elektra's admonitions to her sister.]
[109\12: ~arôgo/s~, _El._ 454. ~zô=sin hoi ga=s ka/tô kei/menoi.
pali/rruton ga\r hai=ma hupexairou=si tô=n ktano/ntôn hoi pa/lai
thano/ntes~, _El._ 1419 f. "The dead man brings death to the
living," Nauck on _Tr._ 1163.]
[110\12: _frr._ 753, 805.]
[111\12: _OC._ 1049 ff., 680; _fr._ 736.]
[112\12: Oedipus does not die but vanishes (is seen no more, 1649);
the depths of the earth open and receive him: 1661 f., 1681. What is
meant is _translation_ without death as in the case of Amphiaraos,
etc. The poet only hints at the miracle in intentionally vague
words--but they cannot refer to anything but translation. ~ô/leto~
1656, and ~e/thane~ are therefore only inaccurate expressions to
describe his departure (see also above, chap. iii, n. 2). The
Messenger of 1583 f. refuses, however, to give a distinct answer to
the question of the Chorus ~o/lôle ga\r du/stênos~; he will only
hint that Oedipus has indeed ~o/lôle~ (1580), but has not simply
died--he has instead been translated out of earthly life. The
corrupt ~hôs leloipo/ta kei=non to\n aei\~ (this was already what
the Alexandrians read) ~bi/oton exepi/staso~ may not therefore be
altered simply into ~to\n aino/n, to\n a/bion bi/oton~. It may
perhaps have originally been something like ~to\n e/ntha, to\n en
gê=|, to\n andrô=n bi/oton~ (cf. Medea to her children ~es a/llo
schê=m' aposta/ntes bi/ou~, E., _Med._ 1039. A dead woman
~hupokechô/rêke aiphni/dion tou= _kath' hêma=s_ bi/ou~. Ins. from
Amorgos, _BCH._ 1891, p. 576, ll. 9-10).]
[113\12: A distinct act of precaution against disbelief in such a
miracle: _OC._ 1665 f. (cf. ~e/rrei de\ ta\ thei=a~, _OT._ 906 ff.;
which refers esp. to the belief in the Oracle of Loxias, a matter of
great importance to Soph.).]
[114\12: The innocence of Oedipus and the fact that the awful crimes
committed by him have been done in ignorance and against his will
~theô=n ago/ntôn~, is stressed in order that his elevation to the
position of _Heros_ may not seem to be an honour done to a
guilt-stained criminal. But the poet does not attribute positive
virtues to him even in _OC._--far less in fact than in _OT._]
[115\12: One has only to read the play without preconceived ideas to
see that this passionate and savage old man, pitilessly heaping
dreadful curses on his sons, gloating vindictively over the coming
misfortunes {456} of his own country, is quite ignorant of the "deep
peace from the gods" or the "illumination of the pious sufferer"
which conventional literary interpretation has been anxious to
ascribe to him. The poet is not one to gloss over the harsh
realities of life with trite phrases of vapid consolation, and he
has clearly perceived that the usual effect of unhappiness and
misery upon men is not to "illuminate" but to enfeeble and vulgarize
them. His Oedipus is pious (he was that from the beginning in _OT._
as well), but he is made savage, ~êgri/ôtai~, exactly like
Philoktetes in his misery (_Ph._ 1321).]
[116\12: Humanitarianism of Athens and her king: 562 ff., 1125 ff.]
[117\12: It is emphasized over and over again that the settlement of
Oedipus on Attic soil is meant to bring about the salvation of the
Athenians and the discomfiture of the Thebans (Apollo's oracle has
thus decreed it): 92 f., 287 f., 402, 409 ff., 576 ff., 621 ff. The
whereabouts of the valuable possession must therefore be kept secret
(as frequently with the graves of Heroes: see above, chap. iv, n.
38); 1520 ff. This elevation of Oedipus to be the ~sôtê/r~ of Attica
(459 f.) is evidently what makes the interest and importance for the
poet of the whole mystery which he relates.]
[118\12: ~nu=n ga\r theoi/ s' orthou=si, pro/sthe d' ô/llusan~, 394.
The gods now feel ~ô/ran tina/~ for Oedipus, 386. After many
~pê/mata pa/lin sphe dai/môn di/kaios au/xoi (a/n)~, 1565 f. It is,
in fact, an act of kindness after a long period of ill-usage; there
is a reversal of fortune, but there is no reward or indemnification
given in recognition of a just claim. It is all _grace_.]
[119\12: In this, too, ~hôs a/n tis hei=s tô=n chrêstô=n Athênai/ôn~
(Ion ap. Ath. 13, 604 D).]
[120\12: Prodikos is, acc. to Welcker, _Kl. Schr._ ii, 497 ff.,
responsible for most of the theories propounded in the Ps.-Platonic
_Axiochus_ on the subject of the ~athanasi/a tê=s psuchê=s~, _Ax._
370 B ff., the tendency of the soul to the heavenly ~aithê/r~ (366
A, and even of the Platonizing fantasy at the end about the fate of
the departed (371-2). Prodikos, if we adopted this attribution,
would become less the "forerunner of Sokrates" (as Welcker calls
him) than the forerunner of Plato. There is, however, no real reason
to attribute to him any more share in that document than is asserted
distinctly in it. The brief and carelessly composed pamphlet
consists of a medley of the conventional ingredients of the usual
~lo/goi paramuthêtikoi/~ loosely strung together. To Prod. is
assigned: the disquisition on the troubles of life in all its stages
336 D-367 E; and the saying ~ho/ti ho tha/natos ou/te peri\ tou\s
zô=nta/s estin ou/te peri\ tou\s metêllacho/tas ktl.~, 369 B (cf.
Buresch, _Leip. Stud._ ix, 8-9). These two passages put together
would establish as the opinion of Prodikos just the opposite of what
Welcker wishes to ascribe to him. He would show himself as a true
~peisitha/natos (--ex ekei/nou thanata=| mou hê psuchê/~, 366 C),
who would make death a mere exit into a state of unconsciousness
after the troubles of life, and thus seem an absolute nonentity. But
the piece is in reality quite without authority: it apparently puts
forward the name of Prodikos, who is so often stated in Plato to
have been the "teacher" of Sokrates, merely in order to have a
definite authority (like the fabulous Gobryes later on) for what the
author does not wish to represent Sokrates as saying on his own
account. One of the sayings attributed to the imaginary Prodikos,
~ho/ti ho tha/natos . . .~ is, however, only too clearly a simple
appropriation of Epicurus' aphorism, ~ho tha/natos oude\n pro\s
hêma=s ktl.~ (p. 61, 6 Usen.; cf. p. 227, 30; 391. Heinze also
points this out, _Ber. sächs. Ges. d. Wiss._ 1884, p. 332). The
other passage (366 D ff.) agrees suspiciously {457} with what Teles
(p. 38 Hens.) has to say on the same subject apparently in entire
dependence on Krates the Cynic. It seems extremely probable that the
author of the _Axiochus_ also had Krates before him or even Teles
(as Wyttenbach already suggested, Plu., _Mor._ vi, p. 41); and that
he attributes what he has thus borrowed from extraneous sources to
"Prodikos" by a fiction that never came amiss to the composers of
such dialogues.--It follows then that what Prodikos really said
about the soul and its destiny is unknown to us; cf. on this
recently much-discussed subject: Brinkmann, _Rh. Mus._ 51, 444 ff.]
[121\12: In the Prologue Thanatos at once describes his claims and
his office. He has to receive the departed and cut off the lock of
hair from the forehead (75 f. probably as a sign that the dead enter
into the possession of the underworld deities: in Verg., _A._ iv,
698 f. Proserpina in the same way dedicates the dead to Orcus). He
then leads them to Hades, 871. He comes in person to the grave and
enjoys the offerings laid there, 844 ff., 851 f. (like the dead man
himself on other occasions, see above, chap. v, n. 108). Properly
speaking he is only the servant of Hades; but just as the word
~ha/|dês~ was already common as = ~tha/natos~, so Thanatos himself
is also actually called ~Ha/idês~ (268, see above, n. 4); only as
identical with Hades can he be called ~a/nax nekrô=n~, 843; cf.
~daimo/nôn koi/ranos~, 1140.--In the underworld are Charon ~ho
psuchopompo/s~, 361, 254 ff., 458 f., and Kerberos, 360. Hades and
Hermes ~chtho/nios~ receive the dead. ~ei de/ ti kakei= ple/on e/st'
agathoi=s~ Alkestis will have the seat of honour next to Persephone:
744 ff. By the living who survive she is regarded on account of her
incomparable virtue as ~ma/kaira dai/môn~ and her grave is not the
abode of a dead woman but a place of worship, 995-1005. Such facile
elevation to the rank of "Heroine" was supposed to be characteristic
of Thessaly and Eurip. may in this also have intended to give his
poem a touch of Thessalian local colour. (~dai/môn~ as an
intermediate stage between ~theoi/~ and ~a/nthrôpoi~; so frequently
in Eur., e.g. _Tro._ 55-6; _Med._ 1391; is this the meaning of the
~me/son~ in _Hel._ 1137?)--Thoroughly in keeping with popular belief
is ~chai=re kan Ha/idou do/mois eu= soi ge/noito~, 626 f. (such a
~chai=re~ is the last word with which ~hôs nomi/zetai~ one addresses
the dead ~exiou=san husta/tên ho/don~, 609 f.). Similar also (but
really implying the conception of the dead as resting in the grave
and not in Hades) is: ~kou=pha/ soi chthô\n epa/nôthe pe/soi~, 463.]
[122\12: The funeral dirge, 86 ff.; ~ko/smos~ buried with the dead,
618 ff.; mourning ceremonies: the manes of the horses are cut short;
no sound of flute or lyre is to be heard in the town for twelve
months, 428 ff. (~pe/nthos etê/sion~ is usual, 336). These extreme
observances are probably taken from the mourning customs of the
Thessalian dynastic families.]
[123\12: Burial of the dead in accordance with ~no/mos palaio\s
daimo/nôn~, _Suppl._ 563; ~no/mima theô=n~, 19; a general Hellenic
custom, 526 f.--Burial of Polyneikes in spite of Kreon's
prohibition: _Phoen._ and probably ~Antigo/nê~.]
[124\12: ~toi=s ga\r thanou=si chrê\ to\n ou tethnêko/ta tima\s
dido/nta chtho/nion eusebei=n theo/n~, _Ph._ 1320 f. ~en eusebei=
gou=n no/mima mê\ kle/ptein nekrô=n~, _Hel._ 1277. The honour of the
grave more important even than good fortune upon earth, _Hec._ 317
f. Lament over the dishonouring of the grave of Agamem., _El._ 323
ff. Request for the burial of Astyanax, _Tro._ 1133 ff., of Orestes,
_IT._ 702 ff., of Makaria, _Hcld._ 588 ff. The shade of the murdered
Polydoros prays especially for burial, _Hec._ 47 ff. (31 f., 796
f.). He is an example of the wandering of the ~a/taphoi~ upon the
upper earth; he ~a/thaptos alai/nei~, _Tro._ 1084 (see above, p.
163, and Append. vii).--Funeral ceremony for those who have {458}
been drowned at sea, _Hel._ 1057 ff., 1253 ff.; though there the
idea is only used as an excuse for the intrigue.]
[125\12: ~choai/~ for the dead, e.g. _Or._ 112 ff., _El._ 511 ff.;
_IT._ 159 ff.]
[126\12: ~choai/~ make the dead ~eumenê=~ towards the givers of the
offering, _Or._ 119. The children call upon the soul of the murdered
father to help them, _El._ 676 ff., in the belief that ~pa/nt'
akou/ei ta/de patê/r~, 684. The soul of the dead man hovers above
the living observing everything, _Or._ 674 ff. Invocation of the
dead (striking both hands on the ground: see above, chap. iii, n.
10), _Tro._ 1305 f. Expectation that the dead thus called on will
~sô=sai~ his friends, _Or._ 797, or help them, _El._ 679. Calling
upon the departed in Hades ~a/rêxon, elthe\ kai\ _skia\_ pha/nêthi/
moi~, _HF._ 494 (though with the qualification ~_ei/_ tis phtho/ggos
eisakou/setai thnêtô=n par' Ha/idê|~, 490).]
[127\12: Translation miracles are touched upon by the poet with
obvious pleasure; cf. transl. of Kadmos and Harmonia, _Bac._ 1330
ff., 1338 ff.: of Peleus, _Andr._ 1257 ff.; of Helen, _Or._ 1629
ff.: of Herakles, _Hcld._ 910; of Menelaos (in unmistakable
sarcasm), _Hel._ 1676 ff. So, too, in the spurious conclusion to the
_IA._ there is a translation of Iphigeneia, 1583 ff. (~pro\s theou\s
aphi/ptato~, 1608).]
[128\12: Eurystheus buried in the temple of Athene Pallenis will
bring safety to Athens and evil to her enemies: _Hcld._ 1026 ff.
Eurysth. says ~soi\ me\n eu/nous kai\ po/lei _sôtê/rios_ me/toikos
aei\ kei/somai kata\ chthono/s~, 1032 f.; i.e. he will become a
~hê/rôs _sôtê/r_~ of the land (just as Oedip. was to become ~sôtê/r~
for Attica. S., _OC._ 460, and Brasidas Heros ~sôtê/r~ of the
Amphipolitans, Thuc. 5, 11, 1). Heroic cult of Hippolytos, _Hip._
1423 ff., _fr._ 446.]
[129\12: The Erinyes are spoken of (apparently with real belief) in
_IT._ 79 ff. and elsewhere.]
[130\12: _Or._ 258 f., not very different, _IT._ 288-94.]
[131\12: ~to\ thêriô=des tou=to kai\ miaipho/non~, _Or._ 524.
Orestes instead of committing murder himself should have brought his
father to justice, _Or._ 500 f. Agamemnon himself if he could have
been asked would not have desired this bloody vengeance, _Or._ 288
ff. It is only Apollo's unwise counsel that has led Orestes to the
murder of his mother, _El._ 971 ff., 1296 f.; _Or._ 276 ff., 416,
591. After the deed Orestes does indeed feel remorse but no
religious terrors, _El._ 1177 (in spite of which there is much about
the pursuing Erinyes of his mother). How completely this whole
series of ideas, the duty of vengeance, etc., has lost its meaning
for the poet, is to be felt more especially in the sophistical
frigidity with which the subject is treated in an ~agô/n~ between
Tyndareos and Orestes, _Or._ 491-604, and in the hair-splitting of
the speech of Orestes himself, 932 ff.]
[132\12: ~dokô= de\ toi=s thanou=si diaphe/rein brachu/, ei
plousi/ôn tis teu/xetai kterisma/tôn; keno\n de\ gau/rôm' esti\ tô=n
zô/ntôn to/de~, _Tro._ 1248 ff.]
[133\12: _fr._ 176.]
[134\12: ~oude\n e/sth' ho katthanô/n~, _Alc._ 381. The dead are
~hoi ouke/t' o/ntes~ 322. ~toi=s~ (the dead) ~me\n ga\r oude\n
a/lgos a/psetai/ pote, pollô=n de\ mo/chthôn _eukleê\s_ epau/sato~,
937 f. But even fame is nothing to the dead. Admetos says to his
father in the scurrilous dialogue ~thanei= ge me/ntoi duskleê/s,
ho/tan tha/nê|s~. To which the old man unconcernedly replies ~kakô=s
akou/ein ou me/lei thano/nti moi~ (725 f.).]
[135\12: It might seem simpler to regard all the utterances of
persons in the plays which correspond to conventional beliefs as
being merely dramatic expressions of the character's own (orthodox)
view, and in no sense put forward by the poet as his own opinion.
And certainly the separate and independently acting persons of the
drama can only {459} speak and act in accordance with their own
proper conceptions and springs of action--not in accordance with the
poet's. But in the antique drama this complete detachment of the
creatures of the dramatic imagination from their creator, the poet
of the drama, only holds good in a limited sense. The ancient
dramatists exercised their office of judge much more vigorously than
the greatest of the moderns. The course of his play showed clearly
what acts and characters the poet disapproved of, but also which
opinions he sanctioned and which he did not. We have only to
remember the attacks of Oedipus and Iokaste upon the judgments of
the gods in _OT._ (or the story of Sen., _Ep._ 115, 14: Eur. _fr._
324). Accordingly we may take it that such utterances of dramatic
characters as are not supplied with practical or spoken corrective
are among those of which the poet did not disapprove. Euripides so
very frequently puts words into the mouth of his characters which
can only express his own moods or opinions that we may also assume
that when their language harmonizes with traditional belief then,
too, the most subjective of the tragedians is for the moment
expressing his own view. Thus, for example, we cannot doubt that the
strain of piety running through the whole of the _Hiketides_
(subjection of ~phro/nêsis~ to God's wisdom, 216 ff., submission to
the guidance of the gods, 592 ff., and to Zeus' government of the
world, 734 ff.), and especially the whole-hearted elaboration of the
picture of Theseus as a model of ~euse/beia~ represent the actual
opinion of the poet at that particular period (he clearly speaks of
himself, 180-3). At other times, too (apart from the _Bacchae_),
though generally for a short time only, he shows vague aspirations
towards orthodoxy.]
[136\12: _Alc._ 968 ff.; _Hipp._ 952 ff.--Asceticism of the _mystai_
of Zeus and Zagreus of the Mountain Mother and the Kouretes:
~Krê=tes~, _fr._ 472.]
[137\12: _Polyid. fr._ 638; _Phrixos_, _fr._ 833. It is usual (cf.
Bergk, _Gr. Litt._ 3, 475, 33) to see here a reminiscence of
Herakleitos. But the latter's ~atha/natoi thnêtoi/, thnêtoi\
atha/natoi, zô=ntes to\n ekei/nôn tha/naton, to\n de\ ekei/nôn bi/on
tethneô=tes~ (_fr._ 67 Byw. 62 D.) is clearly intended to express the
view that "death" and "life" are purely relative concepts; that
death (of the one, i.e. Fire) and life (of the other, i.e, Water or
Earth) are simultaneously present in the same object (see also
_frr._ 68, 78 = 36, 88). According to this view it would be strictly
true that life on earth is not more life than it is death; but that
is certainly not what Eurip. means to say. Philo and Sext. Emp. are
mistaken in attributing to Herakl. the Orphic doctrine of the
"death" of the soul which takes place when it is enclosed in the
~sô=ma~, as its ~sê=ma~ (see above, chap. xi, n. 19). But it is
precisely this Orphic doctrine that is present to the mind of Eurip.
(and Plato, _Gorg._ 492 E, 493 A, brings it into immediate connexion
with the verses of E.). He is speaking of the true "death" of the
soul in the life of the body and of its release to a real (and not a
merely relative) life after death; and thinks that "life" has no
claim to the distinguishing name (cf. ~ho\ dê\ bi/oton kale/ousi~
Emped. 117 Mull. = _fr._ 15 D.).]
[138\12: _Palingenesia_ is alluded to once only and in jest as a
desirable reward for the virtuous, _HF._ 655-68; cf. M. Ant. xii,
5.]
[139\12: ~ho nou=s ga\r hêmô=n estin en heka/stô| theo/s~, _fr._
1018.]
[140\12: _fr._ 839 (_Chrysipp._) fully physical in _fr._ 898, 7
ff.--_fr._ 1023 ~Aithe/ra kai\ Gai=an pa/ntôn gene/teiran aei/dô~.
Cf. _fr._ 1004.]
[141\12: _fr._ 484 ~(Melan. hê sophê/)--hôs ourano/s te gai=a/ t'
ê=n morphê\ mi/a ktl.~ Here, too, the poet is speaking of a mere
initial association of the elements afterwards to be parted, but
thought of as always from the {460} beginning independent--there is
no derivation of both from a single common original element, or of
one out of the other. Eurip. may really have been thinking here of
the ~ho/mou pa/nta chrê/mata ê=n~ of Anaxagoras (as the ancient
authorities supposed), esp. as, with Anax. also, out of the general
conglomeration _two_ masses, ~aê/r~ and ~aithê/r~, first emerge
(though in this case ~nou=s~ is not included in the ~aithê/r~ as it
is with Eurip.). Here, too, then the usual dualism of the Euripidean
cosmogony is preserved. For the rest this _fr._ 484 allows us to
perceive that in spite of all his physiological tendencies Eurip.
can never quite get rid of the _mythical_ element in his
cosmogonical events. The reason why Ouranos and Gaia in particular
recommend themselves to him as elemental forces (and ~koinoi\
hapa/ntôn gonei=s~, _fr._ 1004) was that these figures had long been
set at the beginning of the world and of the gods by cosmogonical
poetry (~aithê/r~ is simply the more physiological term for what is
half-personified as ~Ourano/s~). This probably explains why matter
(or at least the more solid forms of matter as distinguished from
the ~aithê/r~ the ~lepto/taton pa/ntôn chrêma/tôn~) is for him
included in the description "earth". In this he is not following the
old physiologists, none of whom had called "earth" the original
matter--at least not earth alone (see Ilberg, _Quaest.
Pseudohippocrat._, p. 16 ff., 1883). "Earth" as describing the
merely material, matter deserted by spirit, may have come to him
from popular usage. As early as ~Ô~ 54 the body deserted by soul and
life is called ~kôphê\ gai=a~ (cf. Eur. _frr._ 532; 757, 5). Thus
for the poet the contrast between ~gê=~ and ~aithê/r~ almost amounts
to that between "matter" and "mind", except that he either could not
or would not think of a "mind" without any material substratum and
that for this reason his ~aithê/r~ still preserves a remnant of
matter.]
[142\12: This is esp. clear in _fr._ 839, 8 ff. In the disruption of
the elements out of which ~pa/nta~ are composed each of the two,
~gê=~ and ~aithê/r~, preserves itself undiminished and unmixed.
~thnê/|skei d' oude\n tô=n gignome/nôn _diakrino/menon_ d' a/llo
pro\s a/llou morphê\n idi/an ape/deixen~ (restores itself in its
independent being). Whereupon we feel ourselves irresistibly
reminded of the saying of Anaxagoras--~oude\n ga\r chrê=ma gi/netai
oude\ apo/llutai, all' ap' eo/ntôn chrêma/tôn summi/sgetai/ te kai\
diakri/netai, kai\ hou/tôs a\n orthô=s kaloi=en to/ te gi/nesthai
summi/sgesthai kai\ to\ apo/llusthai diakri/nesthai~, _fr._ 17 Mull.
[and D.].]
[143\12: That it was not Anaxagoras, or at least not he alone, who
gave the decided direction to the philosophic ideas of Eurip. has
rightly come to be held of late. We do not find a trace in Eurip. of
the separation of ~nou=s~ from matter, at least not in the form in
which Anaxagoras understood it. For E. the mind is bound to one of
the two primal elements and quite foreign to the other, the earth.
Thus he arrives at a dualism indeed, but in quite a different sense
from that of Anaxag. Dümmler, _Proleg. zu Platons Staat_ (Progr.
Basel, 1891), p. 48, points out reminiscences in Eurip. of Diogenes
of Apollonia--but it is not true to say that the poet's views show
the "closest kinship" with the monistic system of Diog., or with any
Monism.]
[144\12: _Tro._ 884 ff. The air, called by the name of Zeus, and
identical with the ~nou=s brotô=n~, can only be taken from the
doctrine of Diog.: Diels, _Rh. Mus._ 42, 12.]
[145\12: Diog. Apoll., _frr._ 3, 4, 5 Mull. (= 8, 3, 4 D.). The soul
is ~aê\r thermo/teros tou= e/xô, en hô=| esmen~, though it is colder
than the air which is ~para\ tô=| hêli/ô|~, _fr._ 6 [5]. The soul is
therefore more akin to the ~aithê/r~ than to the ~aê/r~ (~aithê/r~
and ~aê/r~ were at that time often confused: e.g. in E., _fr._ 944,
~aithê/r~ instead of ~aê/r~).] {461}
[146\12: _Suppl._ 1140 ~aithê\r e/chei nin ê/dê ktl.~ Elektra
expects to find her dead father in the Aither, _El._ 59. Of a dying
man, ~pneu=m' aphei\s eis aithe/ra~, _fr_ 971 (differently, _Or._
1086 f.); cf. also _Suppl._ 531-6 (imitated from Epicharm.), where
again the ~aithê/r~ is only spoken of as the abode, and not as the
original and consubstantial element of the soul.]
[147\12: ~aithê\r oi/kêsis Dio/s~, Eur., _fr._ 487 (_Melanip._).]
[148\12: Epich., _fr._ 7, p. 257 Lor. [= _fr._ 265 Kaibel].]
[149\12: _CIA._ i, 442, ~aithê\r me\n psucha\s hupede/xato, sô/[mata
de\ chthô\n~ tô=nde. . . .~]
[150\12: ~sunekri/thê kai\ diekri/thê, kapê=lthen ho/then ê=lthen
pa/lin, ga= me\n es ga=n, pneu=m' a/nô; ti/ tô=nde cha/lepo/n?
ou\de\ he/n~, Epich. ap. Plu., _Cons. ad Apoll._ 15, 110 A; Epich.,
_fr._ 8 [245 Kaib.]. ~pneu=ma~ as a general name for the ~psuchê/~
occurs also in Epich., _fr._ 7 [265]. No earlier authority is to be
found for this usage that became so common later (under Stoic
influence) than Xenophanes who ~prô=tos apephê/nato ho/ti hê psuchê\
pneu=ma~ (D.L. ix, 19). Epicharm. may have been actually following
Xenophanes (whose writings he knew: Arist., _Meta._ iii, 5, 1010a,
6) in this use of the word. Eurip. then did the same, _Suppl._ 533.
~pneu=ma~ is the name given to the ~aê/r~ in so far as it is in
_motion_. ~(hupolêpte/on, ei=nai sô=ma to\n ae/ra) gi/netai de\
pneu=ma kinêthei/s. outhe\n ga\r he/tero/n esti pneu=ma ê\
kinou/menos aê/r~: Hero, ~mêchan. su/st.~, p. 121 (ed. Diels = i, p.
6. ed. Schmidt) after Straton. The soul is called a ~pneu=ma~ just
because the soul is that which has continual movement from its very
nature (and is the principle of movement); as such it had already
been regarded by Alkmaion (and later by Plato), and even before that
by Pythagoras (see above, chap. xi, n. 40); in a different way by
Herakleitos and Demokritos also. The universal ~aê/r~ and the
Soul-~pneu=ma~, if we give the terms their proper meaning, are to be
thought of as being of the same nature, so that the ~aê/r~, too
(still more the ~aithê/r~ as a higher ~aê/r~), is psychical and
animated by soul. That at least was how Diogenes of Apollonia
regarded it. (~aê/r~ = the outer air, ~pneu=ma~ the air which is
inside men's bodies: [Hp.] _de Flatib._ 3 [vi, 94 L.], a section
taken from Diog. Ap.)]
[151\12: Numerous references in Eurip. to verses of Epicharm. are
pointed out by Wilamowitz, _Eurip. Herakles_, i, 29. The fact that
Eurip. knew the poems of Epich. and valued them for their
philosophic contents is clearly made out by Wilamowitz' study. But
he goes on to assert that all the allusions of Eurip. refer only to
the (or one of the) forgeries in the name of Epicharm., of which many
were known in antiquity. The reason alleged for this
statement--"Euripides never quotes comedies"--is merely a petitio
principii. It may be that Eurip. does not "quote" contemporary Attic
comedy, but whether he maintained the same attitude to the
brilliantly original comic poet of Sicily, whom Aristotle and even
Plato (_Gorg._ 505 E and esp. _Tht._ 152 E) were not ashamed to
notice, is the very point at issue; nothing is gained by unproved
denial of this main premiss.--Moreover, it would be a most unusual
species of forger that preferred to publish gems like ~na=phe kai\ .
. .~ (imitated by Eurip.) or ~no/os horê=|~--under another man's
name. The fragments of the ~Politei/a~, which is really a forgery
fathered on Epicharmos (ap. Clem. Al., _Str._ v, p. 719 P. = Lor.,
p. 297), are of a very different character.]
[152\12: Archelaos makes a less satisfactory model for Eurip. here.
Arch. in his reconciliation of the doctrines of Anaxagoras and
Diogenes did not separate ~nou=s~ from the mixture of the material
elements (or from the ~aê/r~), but he distinguished between them,
while for the poet ~aithê/r~ and mind are the same.] {462}
[153\12: ~aithê/r~ = Zeus, _fr._ 941. ~aithê/r. . . . Zeu\s ho\s
anthrô/pois onoma/zetai~, _fr._ 877. Hence the ~aithê/r~ is
~koruphê\ theô=n~, _fr._ 919.--In the same way for Diog. Ap. the air
is god (Cic., _ND._ i, 29) and Zeus (Philod., _Piet._ c. 6b, p. 70
Gomp.; _Dox._ 536).--In E., _fr._ 941: ~to\n hupsou= to/nd' a/peiron
aithe/ra kai\ gê=n pe/rix e/chonth' hugrai=s en agka/lais~ the
~aithê/r~ is not put instead of ~aê/r~ (for ~to\n hupsou=~ only
suits ~aithê/r~ in its proper sense), but the two are combined under
the one word (~_hugrai=s_ en agka/lais~ could not be said of the
~aithê/r~ in the strict sense), just as the ~aê/r~ of Diogenes
includes the ~aithê/r~ (for the hot ~aê\r para\ tô=| hêli/ô|~, _fr._
6 [5 Diels] is, in fact, the ~aithê/r~, and so, too, essentially, is
the warm ~aê/r~ in our bodies).]
[154\12: ~--eis atha/naton aithe/r' empesô/n~, _Hel._ 1016.]
[155\12: ~ho ento\s aê\r~ (which alone ~aistha/netai~--not the
senses) ~mikro\n mo/rion ô\n tou= theou=~, Diog. ap. Thphr., _Sens._
42.]
[156\12: The living air, or Zeus, is ~nou=s brotô=n~, _Tro._ 886.
And vice versa, the ~nou=s~ in each one of us is no other than God,
_fr._ 1018.]
[157\12: ~ho nou=s tô=n katthano/ntôn zê=| me\n ou/, gnô/mên d'
e/chei atha/naton, eis atha/naton aithe/r' empesô/n~, _Hel._ 1013
ff.--Ambiguity attaches to the passages in which a dying person is
said to depart ~eis a/llo schê=ma bi/ou~ (_Med._ 1039), ~es a/llas
bio/tou morpha/s~ (_Ion_, 1068), to ~he/teron aiô=na kai\ moi=ran~
(_IA._ 1508). It is possible that in each case a personal existence
continued in a land of the dead is understood--but if they mean no
more than that they are remarkably pregnant in form. In reading them
(esp. _Med._ 1039) one is reminded of the remarkable lines of
Philiskos (pupil of Isocr.) ap. [Plu.] _Vit. X Or._, p. 243, 60
West. ~tô=| ga\r es a/llo schê=ma metharmosthe/nti kai\ a/llois en
ko/smoisi bi/ou sô=ma labo/nth' he/teron~--said of the dead Lysias.
But here the idea of metempsychosis seems really to be involved,
which it can hardly be in the case of Eurip.]
[158\12: Eur. adopts it for himself, _fr._ 189 (_Antiope_), and
confirms it by so many ~lo/gôn ha/millai~ in which he allows the
most contradictory opinions about a single subject to be given
equally plausible expression.]
[159\12: ~apeirosu/nê a/llou bio/tou~, etc. _Hip._ 191-7. ~to\ zê=n
ga\r i/smen, tou= thanei=n d' apeiri/a| pa=s tis phobei=tai phô=s
lipei=n to/d' hêli/ou~, _fr._ 816, 10 f. (_Phoinix_).]
[160\12: The dead man is ~gê= kai\ skia/--to\ mêde\n eis oude\n
rhe/pei~, _fr._ 532; cf. 533, 534. ~to\ mê\ gene/sthai tô=| thanei=n
i/son; hô/sper ouk idou=sa phô=s~ the dead woman knows nothing of
herself or her sufferings, _Tro._ 636-44 (a locus often initiated
in "consolations": _Axioch._ 365 D, Plu., _Cons. ad Apoll._ 15, p.
110 A).]
[161\12: ~phê/mê to\n esthlo\n kan muchoi=s dei/knusi gê=s~, _fr._
865. ~aretê\ de\ ka\n tha/nê| tis ouk apo/llutai, zê=| d' ouket'
o/ntos sô/matos~, _fr._ 734; cf. _Andr._ 772. At the sacrifice of
Makaria the chorus in _Hcld._ 621 ff. can only offer as consolation
the fame which awaits her--~oud' akleê/s nin do/xa pro\s anthrô/pôn
hupode/xetai~.]
[162\12: Makaria voluntarily going to meet her death--~ei/ ti dê\
kata\ chthono/s; _ei/ê ge me/ntoi mêde/n_. ei ga\r he/xomen kakei=
meri/mnas hoi thanou/menoi brotô=n ouk oi=d' ho/poi tis tre/psetai;
to\ ga\r thanei=n me/giston pha/rmakon nomi/zetai~, _Hcld._ 592 ff.;
cf. _fr._ 916.]
[163\12: _fr_, 757 (the metaphor of ll. 5 ff. is employed for
homiletic purposes by Epictet. ii, 6, 11-14); _Andr._ 1270 ff.]
{{463}}
CHAPTER XIII
PLATO
The belief in human immortality, construed in a theological or
philosophical sense, had at this time hardly penetrated to circles
of ordinary lay folk. Socrates himself, when it came to such
inquiries into the unknowable, never claimed to provide an answer
that differed from that which would be given by the majority of his
fellow citizens out of the accumulated wisdom of their ancestors.
Where in the pages of Plato he is allowed to give undisguised
expression to his natural and homely vigour--in the _Apology_--he
shows little anticipation of an immortal life of the soul. Death, he
thinks, either brings complete unconsciousness to men, like a
dreamless sleep, or else it means the transition of the soul to
another life in the realm of the Souls--a realm which, to judge by
his allusions, has much more resemblance to the Homeric Hades than
to any of the visionary countries imagined by theologians or
theologically minded poets.[1\13] Both possibilities he accepts with
complete equanimity, trusting in the righteousness of the
controlling gods,[2\13] and he looks no further. How should he know
with certainty where everyone was ignorant?[3\13]
With a like absence of concern it is possible that the majority of
the cultured (who were just beginning to separate themselves from
the rest of the community) left unsettled the problem of the
Unknown.[4\13] Plato assures us that it was in his time a widespread
belief of the populace that the outgoing soul-breath of the dying
was caught up by the winds--especially if its exit took place in
stormy weather--and was dispersed, blown away, into nothing.[5\13]
In other ways, too, we may suppose that the orthodox Greek, when
death approached, allowed his fancy to picture what might await his
soul on the other side of death's threshold.[6\13] But it is certain
that the belief in an unending life of the soul--a life with no end
because it had no beginning--was not among these thoughts. Plato
himself lets us see how strange such a conception was even to those
who were capable of following and understanding a philosophical
discussion. Towards the end of the long dialogue upon the best kind
of State his Sokrates asks Glaukon with apparent irrelevance "are
you not aware that {464} our soul is _immortal_ and never perishes?"
Whereupon, we are told, Glaukon looked at him in astonishment and
said, "No, in truth, of that I was not aware: can you then assert
any such thing?"[7\13]
The idea that the soul of man may be everlasting and imperishable
seemed thus a paradoxical freak to one who was no adept in the
theological doctrine of the soul. If in later times the case was
altered, no one contributed more effectually or more permanently to
bring that change about than the great thinker and poet who
established the theological conception of personal immortality in
the very heart of philosophy and then gave back the idea
strengthened and made more profound to its parent theology, while he
himself extended the influence of that idea far beyond the bounds of
school or sect by the far-reaching power of his own unaging writings
which belong, not to the schoolroom, but to the greatest
achievements of literature whether of Greece or of mankind. It is
beyond calculation what power has been wielded since their first
appearance by the Platonic dialogues in the confirmation,
dissemination, and precise definition of the belief in
immortality--a power that with all its alteration in the passage of
the centuries has maintained itself unbroken into our own times.
§ 2
Plato had not always given his assent to the belief in immortality.
At any rate, it must have remained very much in the background of
his thoughts and his belief in the days when he still regarded the
world from the point of view of a slightly more developed
Socraticism. Not only at that period (in the _Apology_) does he make
his Sokrates go to his death without the most distant approach to a
belief in the undying vitality of his soul, but also in the first
sketch of his Ideal State--a sketch made while the influence of the
Socratic view of life still prevailed with him--the belief in
immortality is omitted and even excluded.[8\12] It seems as if Plato
did not reach the higher conception of the nature and value of the
soul, its origin and destiny reaching out beyond all temporal
limitation, until the great change which came over his philosophy
had been completed. The world of ever-changing Appearance
manifesting itself to the senses in perpetual flux and efflux--this
in its inessential, unseizable unreality he abandoned to the
criticisms of Herakleitos. But above it, in accordance with his own
deepest longings and, as it seemed, implied as its real object by
the Socratic search itself after {465} conceptual knowledge, stood a
world of unchangeable Being without beginning or end, to which all
the appearances of this lower world owed such reality as they
possessed. "Being" itself, the totality of the Ideas, remained
uncontaminated with "Becoming" and passing away; remained the
highest goal and supreme aim standing high above all that aspired to
it, or felt a longing for its complete and unlimited fullness.[9\13]
This everlasting reality holds itself aloof from the stream of
appearance and is not to be grasped within that stream; it is not
manifested in the deceitful ever-changing perception of the senses,
nor yet in the Opinion that is based upon them; it can only be
apprehended, without any assistance from the senses, by the pure
intuition of the Reason.[10\13] This world of everlasting
self-identical Being exists outside the thought and knowledge of
man, but it first reveals itself to man in the activity of his own
thinking;[11\13] and at the same time there is revealed to him a
higher power than the mere capacity to abstract the unsubstantial
general conceptions from the multiplicity of experience--a power
that is the highest capacity of the soul, enabling it to voyage out
beyond all experience and with infallible knowledge[12\13] to soar
of its own independent power upwards to a transcendental world of
permanent and essential reality. The highest capacity that belongs
to man, the soul of his soul, is not enclosed within this world that
surrounds his senses in its restless flood. Like the objects that
are the last goal of its study the soul itself is raised to where it
can for the first time find a form of activity worthy of its natural
powers. It achieves a new distinction, a priestlike dignity, as an
intermediary between the two worlds to both of which it belongs.
The soul is a pure spiritual essence; it contains nothing within it
that is material, nothing of the "place" where Becoming is shaped
into a distant resemblance to Being.[13\13] It is incorporeal and
belongs to the realm of the "invisible", which in this immaterialist
doctrine counts as the most real of all, more real than the most
solid matter.[14\13] It is not one of the Ideas; on the contrary it
seems to partake in one of the Ideas--that of Life--only as other
appearances share in their Ideas.[15\13] But it stands nearer to the
whole world of the everlasting Ideas than anything else that is not
itself an Idea; of all the things in the world it is "most like" to
the Idea.[16\13]
But it has also a share in Becoming. It cannot simply remain with
the Ideas in unaltered other-world transcendence. It has its origin
indeed in that other world beyond Appearance. It was from the
beginning, uncreated[17\13] like the Ideas and like {466} the Soul
of the World to which it is akin.[18\13] It is "older than the
body"[19\13] to which it must link itself; it does not come into
being at the same time as the body, but is only drawn down from its
spiritual state of being into the realm of matter and becoming. In
the _Phaedrus_ this "fall into birth" appears as the necessary
result of an intellectual "fall" which takes place within the soul
itself.[20\13] In the _Timaeus_, however, with its study of the
general life of the whole world-organism, the animation of the
living creature has now to be explained as arising out of the
plan--not from a failure of the plan--of the Creator.[21\13] The
soul thus seems to be destined from the beginning to give life to a
body. It is not only the knowing and thinking element in a world of
inanimate things, it is also the source of all movement. Itself in
motion from the beginning it bestows the power of movement upon the
body with which it is associated; without it, there would be no
movement in the world, and no life either.[22\13]
But though enclosed within the body it remains a stranger to the
body. On its side it has no need of the body and is not conditioned
by it. It remains independently associated with it as its mistress
and leader.[23\13] Even in their united existence there is a great
gulf fixed between the soul and all that is not soul;[24\13] body
and soul never fuse into one, however closely they may be bound up
with each other. And yet the body and its impulses have the power to
influence profoundly the immortal being that dwells within it. By
its union with the body the soul can be made unclean; "diseases"
such as folly and unrestrained passion come to it from the
body.[25\13] It is not beyond the reach of change like the Ideas, to
which it is akin without being of their nature; on the contrary, it
can degenerate entirely. The evil influences of the body penetrate
to its inmost being; even in its everlasting, immaterial, spiritual
nature it can derive something "corporeal"[26\13] from such a
sinister partnership.
It is bound to the body by influences of a lower kind which attach
themselves to the pure power of knowledge that alone is proper to
it. At the outset of his speculations Plato, like other thinkers
before him,[27\13] had thought of the different capacities of the
soul, alternately in conflict or alliance with each other, as
"parts" of unequal rank and value, bound up together within the soul
of man.[28\13] Even in the previous life of the soul, in the other
world, the reasoning power of the soul is, according to the
_Phaedrus_, already coupled with "Temper" and "Desire"; it is these
in fact which drag down the soul into the realm of the material; and
the three parts still {467} remain indissolubly united in the
everlasting life which awaits the soul after its release from the
body.
But in proportion as the philosopher extends and elevates his
conception of the soul, and as he becomes more convinced of its
eternal destiny and vocation to a life of unending blessedness in a
realm of unchangeable being, the more impossible does it seem to him
that this candidate for immortality in the realm of the everlasting
Forms can be a composite amalgam of elements capable of being
resolved again by division and analysis[29\13]--that the reasoning
faculty can be for ever united with Effort and Desire, which
perpetually threaten to drag it downwards into materiality. The soul
in its true and original nature is now for him simple and
indivisible.[30\13] Only with its enclosure in the body does the
everlasting, thinking soul, whose tendency is towards the eternal,
acquire impulses and desires[31\13] that have their origin in the
body and belong to the body,[32\13] that only adhere to the soul
during the period of its earthly life, that with their separation
from their immortal associate will pass away, since they are
themselves mortal and such as perish with the body.
The soul, to which sense-perception,[33\13] feeling, emotion, and
desire are only added from outside, is in its own imperishable
nature nothing but pure capacity of thought and knowledge--with
which indeed the power to will that which is conceived in thought,
seems to be directly associated. It is destined for the "other"
world, for the intuition and undistorted reflection in its
consciousness of the immaterial essences. Banished to this earth
amid the restless change and alteration of all being, and not
uninfluenced by the forces of bodily life, it must endure a brief
exile here.[34\13] Not unscathed does it leave behind it, in death,
its ill-assorted companion, the body.[35\13] Then it goes into an
intermediate region of bodiless existence in which it must do
penance for the misdeeds of its life on earth, and free itself from
their effects.[36\13] After that it is driven away once more into a
body and transported to a fresh life upon earth, the character of
which it chooses for itself in accordance with the special nature
that it had evolved in its earlier incarnation upon earth.[37\13]
Though no organic connexion exists between them, yet there is a
certain "symmetry"[38\13] between the individual soul and the body
that is lent to it.
Thus, the soul lives through a series of earthly lives[39\13] of the
most varied character; it may even sink so low as the animals in the
course of its incarnations.[40\13] Its own merits, the success or
failure of its conflict with the passions and desires of the {468}
body, decide whether or not its lives shall lead it upwards to a
nobler type of existence. Its task is plain: it must _free_ itself
from its impure companions, sensual Lust and the darkening of the
powers of Reason. If it can succeed in this it will find once more
the "way upwards"[41\13] which at last leads it into complete
immunity from renewed incarnation and brings it home again into the
kingdom of everlasting untroubled Being.
§ 3
It is evident that in what he thus, clothing philosophy in the
language of poetry, says of the origin, destiny, and character of
the soul, which though beyond time is yet placed within time, and
though beyond space is yet the cause of all movement within
space--that in all this Plato is following in the track of the
_theologians_ of earlier times. Only in the poetry and speculative
thought of _theologi_, not in any physiologists' doctrine, did he
find the conception, imaginatively expressed and pointing in the
direction which he also followed, of a multiplicity of independent
souls whose existence had been from all time and was not first begun
in the material world with the creation of a living organism; of
souls enclosed in the corporeal as though in a foreign, hostile
element, which survive their association with the body, passing
through many such bodies and yet preserving themselves intact after
the destruction of each of those bodies, immortal, endless (for they
are without beginning),[42\13] and alive from the very beginning of
Time. The souls, moreover, have life as distinct, complete, and
indivisible personalities, not as mere dependent emanations of a
simple common Source of all life.
The theory of the eternity and indestructibility of the individual
souls, of the personal immortality of the souls, is difficult to
reconcile with more specifically Platonic doctrine--with the
doctrine of the Ideas.[43\13] And yet it is undeniable that from the
moment that he first adopted this theory--and adopted it, too,
precisely in connexion with the philosophy of the Ideas--he adhered
to it steadfastly and without deviating from its essential meaning.
The process by which he arrived at it is not to be found in the
"proofs" by which he attempts in the _Phaedo_ to establish the truth
of the soul's immortality in which he himself already believed.
Those proofs in reality do not prove what they are intended to prove
(and what considered as a fact of experience is unproved and as an
axiom necessary to thought is beyond proof); they cannot therefore
be the reasons that led the philosopher to {469} hold his
conviction. He has in fact borrowed this article of his faith from
the creeds which already contained it. He himself scarcely conceals
the fact. As authority for the main outlines of the soul's history
as given by himself he refers us almost apologetically, and as
though excusing himself for not providing a philosophical proof, to
the _theologi_ and priests of the mysteries.[44\13] And he himself
becomes the philosophical poet, completely and without concealment,
when in imitation of the poetry of edification he, too, gives a
picture of the soul's sojourn in an intermediate station of its
pilgrimage or describes the stages of its earthly existence[45\13]
that lead the soul down even to the animal.
For such mythological expressions of the inexpressible the
philosopher himself claims no more than symbolical truth.[46\13] He
is fully in earnest, however, with the fundamental conception of the
soul as an independent substance that enters from beyond space and
time into the material and perceptible world, and into external
conjunction with the body, not into organic union with it; that
maintains itself as a being of spiritual essence in the midst of the
flux and decay of the material world, though at the same time its
pure brightness is overshadowed through this conjunction and must
purify itself from the effects; that _can_ disentangle
itself,[47\13] even to the extent of complete severance from the
embrace of the material and the perceptible. All that is essential
in this conception he derives from the theologians, but he brings it
into close relationship with his own philosophy which depends upon a
conviction of the absolute opposition between Being and Becoming,
and upon the dualistic division of the world into matter and mind--a
dualism that applies also to the relations of soul and body and
throughout the whole realm of Appearance. The soul which stands
half-way between the unity and unchangeability of Being and the
ever-varying multiplicity of matter has in this realm of fragmentary
and subordinate validity, into which it is temporarily exiled, the
power to reflect the Ideas and represent them in its own
consciousness clear and unfalsified. The soul in its complete
independence of sense-perception and of concepts derived from the
senses is alone able to pursue the "Quest of Reality".[48\13] In
this pursuit the body with which it is associated is nothing but a
hindrance and a serious one. The soul has a hard struggle against
the tendencies of the body in spite of its independence and
aloofness. Just as, in the creation of the universe, matter, though
not a cause is at least a subordinate cause which by its influence
and exigencies gives {470} various hindrances[49\13] to the "Mind"
that shapes and orders the world, so, too, the soul finds in this
ephemeral and inconstant Matter, with its stirring and tumultuous
unrest, a serious obstacle to its own proper activity. This is the
evil, or the cause of evil,[50\13] which must be overthrown in order
that the mind may win its way to freedom and final rest and security
in the realm of pure Being. Plato often speaks of the _katharsis_,
the purification, after which man must strive.[51\13] He takes both
the word and the idea from the theologians, but he gives it a higher
meaning while yet preserving unmistakably the analogy with the
_katharsis_ of the _theologi_ and mystery-priests. It is not the
pollution which comes from contact with sinister _daimones_ and from
all that belongs to them, that is to be avoided, but rather the
dulling of the power of knowledge and of willing what is known
(regarded as a simultaneously created power) due to the world of the
senses and its fierce impulses.[52\13] Man's effort must be directed
not so much to ritual purity, as to the preservation of his
knowledge of the eternal from eclipse through the deceptive
illusions of the senses; towards the concentration and gathering
together of the soul within itself;[53\13] its withdrawal from
contact with the ephemeral as the source of pollution and
debasement.
Thus, even in this philosophic reinterpretation of ritual abstinence
in terms of a spiritual release and emancipation, the effort after
"purity" retains its _religious_ sense. The world of the Ideas, the
world of pure Being, to which only the pure soul can attain,[54\13]
is a world of divinity. The "Good" as the highest of the Ideas, the
loftiest pattern, the supreme aim to which all Being and Becoming
tend, which is at the same time more than all the Ideas--the first
cause of all Being and all knowledge--is also God.[55\13] The soul
for which, in its desire and longing for the full being of the Idea,
the knowledge of the "Good" is the "supreme science",[56\13] enters
hereby into the closest communion with God. The "turning away" of
the soul from the many-coloured image to the sun of the highest
Idea, is itself[57\13] a turning towards the divine, towards the
luminous source of all Being and Knowing.
Thus exalted, philosophic inquiry turns to _enthousiasmos_.[58\13]
The way which leads upwards from the lower levels of Becoming to
Being, is discovered by means of _dialectic_, which in its
"comprehensive view"[59\13] is able to unite the distracted
ever-moving flood of multifarious Appearance into the ever-enduring
unity of the Idea which is reflected in Appearance. Dialectic
travels through the whole range of the Ideas, graduated one above
the other, till it reaches the last and {471} most universal of the
Ideas. In its upward course it passes by an effort of sheer logic
through the whole edifice of the highest concepts.[60\13] Plato is
the most subtle of dialecticians; he almost carries subtlety to
excess in his eager pursuit of every intricacy of logic--and of
paralogism. But he combined to a remarkable degree the cold
exactitude of the logician with the enthusiastic intensity of the
seer; and his dialectic, after its patient upward march step by step
from concept to concept, at last soars to its final goal in a single
tremendous flight, in which the longed-for realm of the Ideas
reveals itself in a moment of immediate vision. So the Bacchant in
his ecstasy saw divinity suddenly plain, and so too in the nights
consecrated by the mysteries the _epoptês_ beheld the vision of the
Goddesses in the torch-lit glare of Eleusis.[61\13]
To this loftiest height whence a view is obtained of "colourless,
formless Being, beyond the reach of every contact", inaccessible to
sense-perception, it is dialectic that shows the way; and dialectic
now becomes a way of salvation in which the soul finds once more its
own divine nature and its divine home. The soul is closely akin to
godhead and like it[62\13]--it is itself something divine. The
reason in the soul is divine,[63\13] and comprehends everlasting
Being immediately by its power of thought. "If the eye were not
sunlike, it could never see the sun";[64\13] if the mind were not
akin by nature to the good,[65\13] the highest of the Ideas, it
could never comprehend the Good, the Beautiful, and all that is
perfect and eternal. In its power of recognizing the eternal the
soul bears within itself the surest proof that it is itself
eternal.[66\13]
The "purification" by means of which the soul gets rid of[67\13] the
defacement that has overtaken it during its earthly life reveals
again the divine in man. Even on earth the philosopher is thus
rendered immortal and godlike.[68\13] As long as he can continue in
a state of pure intellectual knowledge and comprehension of the
everlasting, for so long is he living, already in this life, "in the
Islands of the Blest."[69\13] By expelling all traces of the
corruptible and the mortal in and about himself, he is more and more
to "become like God";[70\13] so that when it is at last set free
from this earthly existence, his soul may enter into the divine, the
invisible, the pure, the eternally self-identical, and as a
disembodied mind remain for ever with that which is its kin.[70a\13]
At this point, language that can only make use of physical imagery
becomes totally inadequate.[71\13] A goal is set before the soul
that lies outside all physical nature, beyond time and space,
without past or future, an ever-present _now_.[72\13] {472}
The soul can escape out of time and space and find its home in
eternity, without at the same time losing its own self in the
General and Universal that stands above time and space. We must not
inquire what sort of personality and individual distinctness can yet
remain with the soul when it has cast off all effort, desire,
sense-perception, and everything related to the world of change and
multiplicity, to become once more a pure mirror of the eternal. Nor
must we ask how it is possible to think of a spirit removed above
space and time and all the multiplicity of matter and yet personal
and separate in its personality.[73\13] For Plato the Souls live on
as they had been in the beginning--individual beings conscious of
themselves in a time that has no end and is beyond all time. He
teaches a personal immortality.
§ 4
There is an "other-worldly" tone in this philosophy, and its
doctrine of the soul. Far beyond the world in which life has placed
man lies the realm of pure Being, the good, the perfect, and the
unspoilt. To reach that realm at last, to free the mind from the
unrest and illusion of the senses, to be rid of the desires and
emotions that would "nail"[74\13] it down here below, to sever its
connexion[75\13] with the body and bodily things--that is the soul's
highest duty. The only reason why it is banished into this world is
that it may all the more completely separate itself from the world.
To die--to be dead inwardly to all that is visible, material,
physical--that is the goal and the fruit of philosophy.[76\13] "To
be ready and fit to die" is the hall-mark of the complete
philosopher. For such, philosophy is the deliverer that frees him
for all time from the body[77\13]--from its desires, its
restlessness, its wild passions[78\13]--and gives him back again to
the eternal and its silence.
To be pure, to be free from evil, to die already in this temporal
world--these are the oft-repeated exhortations which the philosopher
addresses to the immortal soul. Ascetic morality here again demands
from man what is essentially a quite negative proceeding. But this
denial of the world is only a step leading on to the most supremely
positive behaviour. _Katharsis_ is only the gateway to philosophy;
and it is philosophy which teaches man how to reach what alone is
positive, the only true and unconditional Being; instructs him how
to reach the clear and perfect understanding of the only permanent
good and how to merge himself utterly in that good.[79\13] The soul
of the thinker yearns after Reality;[80\13] {473} death is for it
not merely the annihilation of the chains of the body that impede
it, but a very positive "acquisition of intellectual
knowledge"[81\13] to which it is urged on by its proper
nature--which is therefore also a fulfilment of its proper task. So
the turning aside from the physical and the ephemeral is at the same
time and without transition a turning towards the eternal and the
divine. The flight from the things of this world is in itself an
entry into that other world, and a becoming like to the
divine.[82\13]
But the true realities are not to be found in this world. To grasp
them plainly in its thought--to recover the untroubled vision of its
spiritual eye--the soul must divest itself entirely of all the
stress and distraction of the earthly. For this mundane world, the
mirage that encompasses the senses, the philosopher has nothing but
denial. Because it gives no foothold for true knowledge the whole
world of Becoming has no independent value for his science. The
apprehension of that which is never more than relative, which
simultaneously manifests contrary qualities in itself, can only
serve as stimulus and invitation to the search for what is
absolute.[83\12] In this realm of doubtful shadows the soul finds
nothing but obscure reminders of that which it had once beheld
plainly. The beauty of the physical world which is apprehended by
the noblest of the senses, the eye, serves indeed to recall to the
soul's memory the Beautiful-in-itself, of which that other is but a
pale copy, and to disclose to the soul what is really its own
property, what it had brought with it ready made from an earlier
existence beyond the bounds of all matter.[84\13] But the
observation of beauty here below must lead beyond itself at once and
conduct the mind out of the world of mere appearance to the pure
forms of the Ideal world. The process of Becoming tells us nothing
about the nature of Being; the thinker learns nothing from this
source--in fact he learns no _new_ knowledge or wisdom of any kind
in this world; he only recovers what he had before and always
possessed in latent form.[85\13] The treasure, however, lies beyond
the limits of this world. He must turn away his gaze from the
shadow-figures upon the wall of the cave of this world, and direct
it towards the sun of eternity.[86\13] He is placed in this world of
perpetual change; to it his senses and his understanding are
directly referred; and yet he must disdain and rise superior to, and
flee from, all that this world offers, giving himself up immediately
and entirely to the unseen, and taking flight from this world to
that where he will become like God, and be purified and justified by
the power and might of his knowledge.[87\13] {474}
Earthly life as it actually is will remain strange to him, and he a
stranger in earthly life,[88\13] despised as a fool for his
inaptitude in earthly affairs by the great majority of those who are
so versed in such things.[89\13] He has something higher to think
about--the salvation of his own soul. He will not live for the
community, but for himself, and his real task.[90\13] Human
interests seem to him hardly worth troubling about,[91\13] the state
itself hopelessly corrupt, founded as it is upon deception and
passion and injustice. At the same time, he himself of course would
be the real statesman,[92\13] the leader who could guide his fellow
citizens to their true salvation--acting not as the servant of their
lusts, but as a doctor who gives help to the sick.[93\13] It is "not
ships and harbours and walls and taxes and such trivialities"[94\13]
that he would give the city, but justice and health and everything
else which after this life can stand before the stern judgment of
the other world.[95\13] This would be the best mode of life,[96\13]
and he could show them the way to it; no worldly power or greatness
can do as much--none of the great statesmen of the past,
Themistokles, Kimon, and Perikles, understood anything of all this;
all their efforts were nothing but blind error and wandering.[97\13]
At the climax of his life and of his philosophical development Plato
completed an ideal picture of the State, drawn in accordance with
the principles and the requirements of his own philosophy. It rests
upon a broad foundation--the multitude of its inhabitants divided
strictly into classes that in themselves and their manner of life
are to display, like a beacon that can be seen afar, the virtue of
Justice. At one period this had seemed to include all that was
necessary for the completion of the ideal State; but now, far above
that level, pointing upwards into the lofty _aether_ above the
earth, a final consummation reveals itself to him, to which all mere
mundane things serve but as support and furtherance. A small
minority of the citizens, the philosophers, form this last pinnacle
of the building. Here on earth and in this state that is organized
in conformity with justice, they will serve the state, as in duty
bound and not for their own satisfaction, and take part in
government.[98\13] As soon as duty is fulfilled they will return to
the supramundane contemplation which is the aim and content of their
whole life's activity. To provide a place where these contemplatives
may live, where they may be educated for their vocation, the highest
there is; to allow _dialectic_ as a form of living to take its place
in the activity of worldly civilization as an object of men's
effort[99\13]--to bring about all this the Ideal State is built up
step by step. The {475} bourgeois social virtues and their firm
establishment and interconnexion, which had once seemed the real and
sufficient reason for the erection of the whole edifice of the
state--seen from this elevation, these no longer retain their
independent importance. "The so-called virtues" all pale before the
highest capacity of the soul, which is the mystic beholding of the
eternal.[100\13] The chief mission of the perfect wise man is no
longer to fulfil his obligations to the others that stand without.
To make his own inner life fit and ready for self-emancipation is
now his real and immediate task. Mysticism aims at a personal
salvation such as the individual can only obtain for himself. Good
works are no longer necessary when the mind has no further connexion
with earthly life and conduct. When it comes to dealing with
practical earthly affairs he who possesses the highest virtue will
have all these others added unto him.[101\13] Virtue belongs to him;
it is his real condition of being; but the particular virtues he
will rarely need to use.
This lofty pinnacle is accessible to but a few. God alone and a
small[102\13] company of mortals are able to approach in pure
thought to the everlasting Reality, the sole object of certain,
plain and unchanging Knowledge. The majority of men can never become
philosophers.[103\13] And yet, according to this philosophy, the
crown of all life belongs to the philosopher. This is no religion
for the poor in spirit. Science--the supreme knowledge of the
highest Being--is a pre-condition of salvation. To know God is to
become like God.[104\13] It is easy to see why such a message of
salvation could not attract a wider community of believers. It could
not have done so without being false to its own nature. To a few
lofty spirits among mankind, it offers a reward that beckons from
eternity. Freedom from life in the corruptible body is the prize it
offers; that and a never-ending union with true Reality--a return to
what is everlasting and divine. A symbol of what the philosopher has
achieved after his death will be provided by the community by whom
the departed will be honoured as a Daimon.[105\13]
Such then is the ideal vision of a civilization in which the belief
in the soul's immortality and its vocation to an everlasting life in
the kingdom of the gods was held with profound and serious
conviction. The belief in immortality here becomes the corner-stone
of a building, the architect of which regards all earthly things as
only valid for the moment, and therefore of profound unimportance.
For him only the Heaven of the spiritual world with its everlasting
laws and {476} patterns seriously matters. He discards without a
regret the whole of Greek culture as it had expressed itself in
state and society, custom and art--an art that will last as long as
humanity itself. He demands an aristocracy, and an aristocracy
measured by a standard of what is the "best" that was quite beyond
the reach of any possible human society even though it were as
deeply impregnated with aristocratic ideas as Greek society always
was. And the final aim and ideal sought by this organization of life
on earth was to be the superseding of all earthly life . . .
The mind of Plato, equally ready to receive as to give, was not
likely to become immobilized for ever in a mystic rapture of vision.
Even when he had finished the _Republic_ he did not cease to reshape
his system at many points and in many directions, while some special
problems were taken up again for further and repeated study. Even a
second sketch of a political system was left behind by him in which
he sought to lay down rules for the guidance of life among the
multitude who are still regarded as completely shut out from the
realm of the everlasting Forms. To this end the highest aims of
human endeavour are almost left out of sight and practical rules for
reaching the attainable "better" are supplied for the benefit of the
majority. He had learnt resignation at many points. Nevertheless,
the profound conviction of all his thoughts remained unchanged; the
claims that he put before the world and mankind remained essentially
the same. For this reason after generations have not been mistaken
in seeing in him the priestly man of wisdom, who with warning finger
points the immortal spirit of man on its way from this feeble world
upwards to the everlasting life.
NOTES TO CHAPTER XIII
[1\13: Pl., _Ap._ c. 32 f. (40 C ff.).]
[2\13: _Ap._ 41 C D.]
[3\13: _Ap._ 29 A B, 37 B.]
[4\13: Xen. _Cyrop._ 8, 7, 17, makes the dying Kyros justify his
faith that the soul survives the body rather on the lines of popular
belief and the cult of souls than from would-be-philosophical
considerations (§ 20; see above, chap. v, n. 178). In spite of this
he allows the question to remain undecided--as though of little
importance--whether, in fact, the soul then leaves the body and
lives on or whether ~me/nousa hê psuchê\ en tô=| sô/mati
sunapothnê/skei~, § 21. In either eventuality he will after death
~mêde\n e/ti kako\n pathei=n~, § 27.--Arist., _SE._ xvii, p. 176b,
16, ~po/teron phthartê\ ê\ atha/natos hê psuchê\ tô=n zô/|ôn, ou
diô/ristai toi=s polloi=s~--in this question they ~amphidoxou=si~.]
[5\13: Pl., _Phd._ 70 A, 77 B, 80 D. This belief of the ~polloi/~
and ~pai=des~ looks indeed much more like a piece of superstition
than a denial of the continued life of the ~psuchê/~ (in which light
Pl. represents it). We have already met with the soul as a
wind-spirit more than once: when it leaves the body the other
wind-spirits carry it off and away with themselves (cf. above, chap.
i, n. 10), esp. when a high wind is blowing (cf. the German popular
belief that when a man hangs himself a storm arises: Grimm, p. 635:
cf. Mannhardt, _Germ. Myth._ 270 n. In other words, the "furious
host", the personified storm-spirits--Grimm, p. 632; cf. Append.
vii--come and carry away with them the poor unquiet soul).]
[6\13: Cf. Pl. _Rp._ 330 D E. There is more about these matters in
the speech against Aristogeiton, [D.] 25, 52-3. In spite of the
popular form in which it is put such an opinion is not to be claimed
at once as a popular and generally held belief: the author of this
speech is a follower of Orpheus, a fact which he himself betrays in
§ 11.]
[7\13: Pl. _Rp._ 608 D.]
[8\13: It is probable that in the ~Politei/a~ two essentially
distinct stages of Platonic doctrine are found side by side with
only an external bond of union, and that in particular what is said
in Bk. v, 471 C ff., to the end of Bk. vii about the ~philo/sophoi~,
their education and position in the state (and outside politics), is
an extraneous addition to the completed picture of the ~kalli/polis~
which is given in Bks. ii--v, 471 C: an afterthought not originally
included in the plan of the whole book and not anticipated in the
beginning of it. This seems to me to emerge unmistakably from a
careful and unprejudiced study of the whole work and to have been
completely demonstrated by Krohn and Pfleiderer. That Plato himself
regarded the first sketch of an ideal state as a separate work
(which may even have been actually published separately: Gellius,
14, 3, 3), is shown by the beginning of the _Timaeus_. Here--with
the implication of quite a different staging of the dialogue and a
different introduction from what we now read in _Rp._, Bk. i, c.
1--ii, c. 9--we have an exact recapitulation of the subject of the
inquiry in the ~Politei/a~ from ii, 10, 367 E, to v, 460 C, with the
definite statement (19 AB) that thus far and no farther had the
discussion gone "yesterday". The stages in which the whole work was
composed seem then to be divisible as follows: (1) Sketch of the
state of the {478} ~phu/lakes~ (in brief) embodied in a dialogue
between Sokrates, Kriton, Timaios, Hermokrates, and another
companion: in subject matter agreeing (apart from the introduction)
substantially with _Rp._ ii, 10, 367 E, to v, 460 C. (2)
Continuation of this sketch in the story of ancient Athens and the
people of Atlantis. Its completion is transferred elsewhere because
in the meantime the ~Politei/a~ itself has been extended and into
the empty framework of the ~Ti/m.~ thus left available the account
of the creation of the world given by Timaios is very loosely
inserted: the frame-narratives of the ~Ti/maios~ and ~Kriti/as~
never being completed. (3) Continuation of the first sketch (still
virtually along the lines originally laid down) in _Rp._ v, 460
D-471 C (in which 466 E ff. is a brief account of the behaviour of
the state in time of war--a substitute for the longer and more
detailed statement on the same subject in _Tim._ 20 B f.), and in
viii, ix (the greater part), and x, second half (608 C ff.). (4)
Finally the whole work receives its crown and completion in a
section that was, however, not foreseen in the older parts of the
design, for it disturbs part of that original design's independence
and validity and does more than merely supplement it--the
introduction of the ~philo/sophoi~ and their special type of
"virtue", v, 471 C-vii fin.; ix, 580 D-588 A; x, part 1 (to 608
B).--Then came the final editing of the whole: insertion of the new
introduction, i, 1-ii, 9 (not necessarily left until the completion
of the whole; necessary bringing into harmony of the divergent
elements by a few excisions, qualifications, etc.; and probably a
literary revision and polishing of the whole book.--The whole thus
finally produced reveals its origin clearly enough in the outgrowing
of a first plan and its replacement by a second that has naturally
suggested itself in the course of the author's own continued
development. At the same time Plato could claim that the whole
edifice, in spite of much extension and rebuilding in a different
style of architecture, should be considered as a unity in the form
in which he finally left it (as a noteworthy monument, too, of his
own alteration of view). He himself in the sublimest moments of his
mystic flight in Bks. vi and vii in no sense rejects the groundwork
of the ~kalli/polis~ of ii-v (though not, indeed, designed
originally as such), but merely reduces it to the position of a
substructure which remains a necessary and sole foundation even for
the mystic pinnacle and preserves its absolute validity for the
great majority of the citizens who inhabit the ~kalli/polis~ (for
the ~philo/sophoi~ are still regarded as very few in number) for
whom it is a school for the exhibition of political virtue.--In the
first sketch, then, there is no trace of a doctrine of immortality
that can be properly so called, and the popular belief in a
continued life of the soul after death has for Plato, at this stage
at least, no serious weight or importance. The ~phu/lakes~ are not
to trouble about what may follow death (iii, 1 ff.); the main
purpose in view is to show that ~dikaiosu/nê~ is its own reward, and
the rewards which are anticipated for it after death are only
ironically alluded to (ii, 363 CD; cf. 366 AB); Sokrates means to do
without such hopes (366 E ff.). The ~athanasi/a psuchê=s~ is only
introduced as a paradox in x, 608 D (in the continuation of the
first sketch) for which proof is sought; whereupon the importance of
the question as to what may await the soul after death emerges (614
A ff.) as well as the necessity of taking thought not for this short
life but ~hupe\r tou= ha/pantos chro/non~ (608 C), of which nothing
had been said or could have been said in iii-v. Finally in vi-vii
the indestructibility of the soul is implied in its sublimest form.
It is evident that Plato's own views on these matters had undergone
changes in the course of time, and that these {479} changes are
reflected in the various strata of the ~Politei/a~ even after its
final editing. (Cf. Krohn, _Platon. Staat_, p. 265; Pfleiderer,
_Platon. Frage_, p. 23 f., 35 ff., 1888.)]
[9\13: The Appearance ~bou/letai, ore/getai, prothumei=tai ei=nai~
what its Idea _is_: _Phd._ 74 D, 75 AB. The Ideas are thus
teleological causes like the divine ~nou=s~ of Aristotle which,
unmoved itself, ~kinei= hôs erô/menon~ (just as matter has a desire
for form, potentiality for actuality). Plato it is true did not keep
to this method of illustrating rather than explaining the relation
between the Appearance and the unmoved Idea.]
[10\13: ~noê/sei meta\ lo/gou perilêpto/n~, _Tim._ 27 D. ~hou=
ou/pot' a\n a/llô| epila/boio ê\ tô=| tê=s dianoi/as logismô=|~,
_Phd._ 79 A. ~autê\ di' hautê=s hê psuchê\ ta\ koina\ phai/netai
peri\ pa/ntôn episkopei=n~, _Tht._ 185 D.]
[11\13: The _prius_ in the case of man is really the perception of
his own mental activity in ~no/êsis meta\ lo/gou~ as being a process
essentially different from ~do/xa met' aisthê/seôs alo/gou~. It is
inference from the former alone that leads to the conclusion that
the ~noou/mena~ exist: _Tim._ 51 B-52 A. It is the Ideas that we
grasp in abstract thought: ~autê\ hê ousi/a hê=s lo/gon di/domen
kai\ erôtô=ntes kai\ apokrino/menoi~, _Phd._ 78 D.]
[12\13: The ~epistê/mê~ which ~dialektikê/~ alone can give (_Rp._
533 DE is ~anama/rtêtos~ (_Rp._ 477 E.]
[13\13: Of the three ~ei/dê~ or ~ge/nê~--the ~o/n~, the
~gigno/menon~ and the ~en hô=| gi/gnetai~ (the ~chô/ra~) of _Tim._
48 E f., 52 ABD)--the third at any rate is quite foreign to the
soul. Like the World-Soul (_Tim._ 35 A, along with which it is
"mixed" (41 D), the individual soul also is a middle term between
the ~a/meres~ of the Idea and the ~kata\ ta\ sô/mata meristo/n~,
having a share in both.]
[14\13: True, unalterable Being belongs only to the ~aeide/s~ and
therefore also to the soul: _Phd._ 79 A f.]
[15\13: _Phd._ c. 54-6 (105 B-107 B).]
[16\13: ~homoio/teron psuchê\ sô/mato/s esti tô=| aeidei=~ (and that
= ~tô=| aei\ hôsau/tôs e/chonti~), _Phd._ 79 B. ~tô=| thei/ô| kai\
athana/tô| kai\ noêtô=| kai\ monoeidei= kai\ adialu/tô| kai\
hôsau/tôs kata\ tauta\ e/chonti heautô=| homoio/taton psuchê/~, 80
AB.]
[17\13: ~age/nêton~, _Phdr._ c. 24, 245 D (~aï/dios~ simply, _Rp._
611 B). The creation of the souls in _Tim._ is only intended to
represent the origin of the spiritual from the ~dêmiourgo/s~ (not
the coming into being of the soul _in time_): see Siebeck, _Ges. d.
Psychol._ i, 1, 275 ff. Still, it remains impossible to say whether
Plato whenever he speaks of the pre-existence of the soul always
means that the soul existed without beginning.]
[18\13: As to the relation of the individual soul to the soul of the
universe, neither the mythical account in _Timaeus_ nor the briefer
allusion in _Phileb._ 30 A allows us to conclude that the soul of
our body is "taken from" the soul of the ~sô=ma tou= panto/s~. In
reality the fiction of a "World-Soul" is intended to serve quite
other purposes than the derivation of the individual soul from a
single common source.]
[19\13: _Tim._ 34 C; _Lg._ 891 A-896 C.]
[20\13: Acc. to the account in _Phdr._ 246 C, the soul suffers its
downfall into the earthly existence if ~ho tê=s ka/kês hi/ppos~,
i.e. the ~epithumi/a~ in the soul, tends towards the earth--247 B.
It must, therefore, be the result of the preponderance of the
appetitive impulses. This, however, can only happen if the
~logistiko/n~ of the soul has become too weak to drive the
soul-chariot any longer as its duty was. Hence the supporting wings,
i.e. the ~no/êsis~, of the soul-horse fall off. It is thus a
weakening of the cognitive part of the soul that causes its downfall
into materiality (just as it is the measure of their capacity for
knowledge that determines {480} the character of the ~ensôma/tôsis~
of the souls, and their return to the ~to/pos huperoura/nios~ is
equally determined by their recovery of the purer form of knowledge:
248 C ff., 249 AC). Thus it is not, as in Empedokles, a
religio-moral transgression that leads to the incarnation of the
souls, but a failure of intellect, an intellectual fall in sin.]
[21\13: The soul is, acc. to the account in _Tim._, created in order
that by animating and governing a body, it may complete the sum of
creation: without the ~zô=|a~ the ~ourano/s~ (the universe) would be
~atelê/s~, _Tim._ 41 B ff. Acc. to this teleological motivation of
the being and the ~ensôma/tôsis~ of the soul, this latter, the
~ensôma/tôsis~, would have belonged to the original plan of the
~dêmiourgo/s~ and there would be no purpose in the creation of the
souls (by the ~dêmiourgo/s~ and the inferior gods) unless they were
destined to the animation of the ~zô=|a~ and conjunction with
~sô/mata~. But it is obviously inconsistent with all this that the
_object_ of the soul's endeavour should be to separate itself as
soon as possible and as completely as possible from the body and
everything material in order to get back again to immaterial life
without any body--42 BD. This is a relic of the original
_theological_ view of the relation between body and soul. In _Phd._
(and usually in Plato) it displays itself unconcealed; but it was far
too closely bound up with the whole of Plato's ethic and metaphysics
not to make its illicit appearance even when as in _Tim._ he wished
to keep the physiological side to the fore.]
[22\13: _Phdr._ 245 C-246 A. The soul is ~to\ hauto\ kinou=n~, and
indeed continually, ~aeiki/nêton~, it is ~toi=s a/llois ho/sa
kinei=tai pêgê\ kai\ archê\ kinê/seôs~ (the body only _seems_ to
move itself, but it is really the soul within which moves it--246
C). If the soul were to perish, ~pa=s ourano\s pa=sa/ te ge/nesis~
would be at a standstill. The conception of the "soul" as the
~aeiki/nêton~ was already well and long established in Plato's time
(see above, chap. xii, n. 150). In the form in which he introduces
it here (as a proof of the imperishability of the soul) he may have
modelled his conception on that of Alkmaion (Arist., _An._ 405a,
29): see Hirzel, _Hermes_, xi, 244. But Plato here and throughout
_Phdr._ is speaking of the individual soul (~psuchê/~ collective
singular). So too in _Lg._ 894 E ff., 896 A ff. (~lo/gos~ of the
soul: ~hê duname/nê autê\ hautê\n kinei=n ki/nêsis~. It is the
~aiti/a~ and the issue of all movement in the world, the source of
life; for life belongs to that which ~auto/ hauto\ kinei=~ 895 C.)
As distinguished from the ~psuchê\ enoikou=sa en ha/pasi toi=s
kinoume/nois~ we do not hear of the (double World-Soul until 896 E.
There is in fact ~ki/nêsis~ in plenty in the world besides that of
the animated organisms.]
[23\13: _Phd._ 93 B (c. 43) and often.]
[24\13: ~psuchê/~ on the one side, ~pa=n to\ a/psuchon~ on the
other. _Phdr._ 246 B and so generally.]
[25\13: _Tim._ 86 B ff. (c. 41).--In brief: ~kako\s hekô\n oudei/s,
dia\ de\ ponêra\n he/xin tina\ _tou= sô/matos_ kai\ apai/deuton
trophê\n~ (education of the soul) ~ho kako\s gi/gnetai kako/s~, 86
E.]
[26\13: ~to\ sômatoeide\s ho\ tê=| psuchê=| hê homili/a te kai\
xunousi/a tou= sô/matos . . . enepoi/êse xu/mphuton ktl.~ _Phd._ 81
C, 83 D.]
[27\13: Pythagoreans, see above (chap. xi, n. 55); hardly Demokritos
(_Dox._, p. 390, 14). The trichotomy can exist very well side by
side with the dichotomy (which also appears) into ~logistiko/n~ and
~alo/gistikon~, the last being simply divided again into ~thumo/s~
and ~epithumi/a~.]
[28\13: In the first sketch of the Republic (ii-v). Here it is
admittedly bound up with the three classes or castes of the state,
but it has not been invented for the benefit of these classes. On
the contrary, the {481} trichotomy of the soul is original and the
division of the citizen body into three parts is derived and
explained from it; cf. 435 E.--The view that Plato was never quite
serious about the threefold division of the soul but always spoke of
it as something semi-mythical or as a temporarily adopted
hypothesis, will not appear plausible on an unprejudiced study of
the passages in the Platonic writings that deal with the threefold
division of the soul.]
[29\13: _Rp._ x, 611 A-E (c. 11), shows clearly that the reason
which made Plato abandon his conception (given in the first sketch
of the _Rep._ and still maintained in the _Phaedrus_) of the natural
trichotomy of the soul into parts or divisions was the consideration
of its immortality and vocation to intercourse with the ~thei=on
kai\ atha/naton kai\ aei\ o/n~.--The emotions and passions by which
the soul is "fettered" ~hupo\ tou= sô/matos~, explain its tendency
to clothe itself in another body after death, _Phd._ 83 C ff. If the
emotions and passions were indissolubly linked to the soul the
latter could never escape from the cycle of rebirths.--On the other
hand, if only the ~logistiko/n~, as the only independently existing
side of the soul, goes into the place of judgment in the other world
there would seem to be no reason that should tempt this simple
uncompounded soul to renewed ~ensôma/tôsis~, a process which implies
materiality and desire. (This difficulty troubled Plotinos too.)
Plato takes into view the possibility of an inner corruption of the
pure and undivided intellectual soul which makes a future state of
punishment and purgatory possible and intelligible and explains the
existence (until a complete return to purity is achieved) of a
tendency or constraint to renewed ~ensôma/tôsis~ even without a
permanent association with the ~thumoeide/s~ and the
~epithumêtiko/n~.]
[30\13: ~tê=| alêthesta/tê| phu/sei~ the soul is ~monoeide/s~,
_Rep._ x, c. 11 (611 B, 612 A). Hence it is ~to\ para/pan adia/lutos
ê\ eggu/s ti tou/tou~, _Phd._ 80 B.]
[31\13: The intellect-soul ~atha/naton archê\n thnêtou= zô/|ou~ is
the creation of the ~dêmiourgo/s~; the other faculties of the soul,
~thumo/s~, ~epithumi/a~ (and ~ai/sthêsis~ therewith), ~psuchê=s
ho/son thnêto\n~ (_Tim._ 61 C), are all added to the soul at the
moment of its union with the body by the subordinate deities: _Tim._
41 D-44 D; 69 A-70 D (c. 14, 15, 31). The same idea appears in _Rp._
x, 611 BC. ~to\ aeigene\s me/ros tê=s psuchê=s~ is distinguished
from the ~zôogene/s~: _Polit._ 309 C.]
[32\13: ~to\ sô=ma kai\ hai= _tou/tou_ epithumi/ai~, _Phd._ 66 C.
The soul moved by passion suffers ~hupo\ sô/matos~, 83 CD. In death
the soul is ~kathara\ pa/ntôn tô=n peri\ to\ sô=ma kakô=n kai\
epithumiô=n~, _Crat._ 404 A.]
[33\13: _Tim._ 43 C. It is only as a result of this violent and
contradictory excitement through the physical perception of Becoming
that the soul _becomes_ ~a/nous~ (which is **originally foreign to
it) ~ho/tan eis sô=ma endethê=| thnêto/n~, 44 A. (It will in time
become ~e/mphrôn~ once more and can become wise, 44 BC. In the case
of the animals, which can be inhabited by the same soul, it will
remain always ~a/phrôn~--one may suppose.)]
[34\13: ~. . . smikro\n chro/non, oude\n me\n ou=n pro\s to\n
ha/panta (chro/non)~. _Rp._ 498 D.]
[35\13: In accordance with popular thought (but obviously also in
perfect seriousness and without any special concession) death is
regarded as ~tê=s psuchê=s apo\ tou= sô/matos apallagê/~, _Phd._ 64
C; _Gorg._ 524 B. Hence, it usually happens that the soul ~mêde/pote
eis Ha/idou katharô=s aphike/sthai, all' aei\ tou= sô/matos anaple/a
exie/nai~, _Phd._ 83 D. (--~aei\~, i.e. with the exception of the
few complete ~philo/sophoi~ that do not need further purification in
Hades, and this is, in fact, the doctrine of the _Phd._ itself; cf.
114 C, 80 E, 81 A.)]
[36\13: Purgatory, punishment and rewards in the other world:
_Gorg._ {482} 523 ff.: _Rp._ x, c. 13 ff., 614 A ff. (vision of Er,
son of Armenios in the continuation of the first version of the
~politei/a~); _Phd._ 110 B-114 C. We must not here go into the
details of the individual myths in which it is still perhaps
possible to distinguish what parts Plato has taken out of ancient
poetry and popular legend and what comes from theological and
particularly Orphic doctrinal poetry--or even (_Rp._ x) from
Oriental fables--and how much he has added independently on his own
account. (A few remarks will be found in G. Ettig, _Acherunt.,_
_Leipz. Stud._ xiii, 305 ff.; cf. also Döring, _Arch. Ges. Phil._
1393, p. 475 ff.; Dieterich, _Nekyia_, 112 ff.) He usually
distinguishes three classes among the souls (only apparently two in
_Phdr._ 249 A): those who are affected with curable faults, the
hopelessly and incurable guilty (who are condemned to _eternal_
punishment in Tartaros without rebirth: _Gorg._ 525 C ff.; _Rp._ 615
D; _Phd._ 113 E); and, thirdly the ~hosi/ôs bebiôko/tes, di/kaioi
kai\ ho/sioi~. This is the system of _Gorg._ 525 BC, 526 C; _Rp._
615 BC. (With these come also the ~a/ôroi~, 615 C, who neither
deserve punishment nor reward--of them Er said ~a/lla, ouk a/xia
mnê/mês~. Perhaps older theologians had already concerned themselves
with these, not being satisfied with the fate assigned by popular
mythology to the ~a/ôroi~--see Append. vii--it would have been a
natural subject for the professional attention of these Schoolmen of
popular superstition.) In _Phd._ 113 D ff. the question is even more
minutely dealt with. Here we have (1) ~hoi me/sôs bebiôko/tes~ (che
visser' senz' infamia e senza lode), (2) ~hoi ania/tôs e/chontes~,
(3) ~hoi ia/sima hêmartêko/tes~, (4) ~hoi diaphero/ntôs hosi/ôs
bebiôko/tes~, and (5) the élite of these ~ho/sioi~, the real
philosophers, ~hoi philosophi/a| hikanô=s kathera/menoi~--these are
not born again. To the other classes are assigned their appropriate
purgation, reward or punishment. Here classes 2, 3, and 4 correspond
to the three classes of _Rp._ and _Gorg._ (which may perhaps be
modelled on the divisions popularized by older theological
poetry--see above, chap. xii, n. 62). Novelties are the ~me/sôs
bebiôko/tes~ and the true philosophers. For these last the abode
upon the ~maka/rôn nê=soi~ (_Gorg._ 526 C), or, what comes to the
same thing, upon the surface of the earth (_Phd._ 114 BC), is no
longer sufficient. They go ~es maka/rôn tina\s eudaimoni/as~ (115
D), which means that they are really freed entirely from temporal
existence and enter into the unchanging "Now" of eternity. (As far
as the complete escape of the ~philo/sophoi~ is concerned the
account in _Rp._ x, c. 13 [614 A-615 C] does not contradict that of
_Phd._ The only reason why this is not mentioned in _Rp._ is that
these absolutely enfranchized souls could not appear upon the
~leimô/n~ there mentioned: 614 E.)--Of these various accounts that
of _Phd._ seems to be the latest. In _Lg._ there is yet another
indefinite allusion to the necessity of undergoing a judgment after
death: 904 C ff.]
[37\13: _Choice_ of their new state of life by the souls in the
other world, _Rp._ 617 E ff.; _Phdr._ 249 B. The purpose of this
arrangement is made clear by _Rp._ 617 E; ~aiti/a helome/nou; theo\s
anai/tios~ (cf. _Tim._ 42 D). It is, in fact, a theodicy and at the
same time secures the complete responsibility of every man for his
own character and deeds (cf. 619 C). There is no idea of founding a
determinist theory upon it.--The choice is guided by the special
character of the soul (which it has developed in its previous life)
and its tendencies (cf. _Phd._ 81 E; _Lg._ 904 BC). For the same
reason there is no choice on the occasion of the soul's first
~ensôma/tôsis~ (_Tim._ 41 E): after that, in later births, a definite
descent in well-marked stages _in peius_, can be observed, each
conditioned by the degree of corruption attaching to the soul
(_Tim._ 42 B ff.). {483} All of which can very well co-exist with a
choice of its own fate by the soul conditioned by its own nature.]
[38\13: ~xummetri/a~, _Tim._ 87 D.]
[39\13: At least three (as in Pi., _O._ ii, 75 ff.), acc. to _Phdr._
249 A. Between each two births there is an intervening period of
1,000 years (_Rp._ 615 A; _Phdr._ 249 AB). This cuts away the ground
from such myths as that of the various "lives" of Pythagoras (see
Append. x).]
[40\13: Incarnation in animals, _Phdr._ 249 B; _Rp._ 618 A, 620 ff.;
_Phd._ 81 E; _Tim._ 42 BC. That this part was any less seriously
meant than any other part of his doctrine of metempsychosis is not
in the least suggested by Plato himself. Acc. to _Tim._ 91 D-92 B,
_all_ the animals have souls that had once inhabited the bodies of
men (see Procl., _in Rp._ ii, 332 Kroll; he is trying to harmonize
_Tim._ and _Phdr._). In fact, the idea that a man's soul might
inhabit an animal was precisely the great difficulty in Plato's
doctrine of the soul. If, as is said in _Phdr._ 249 BC, a real
animal-soul cannot enter into a human body because it does not
possess ~no/êsis~ or the power of "dialectic" which constitutes the
essential part of the human soul's activity, how can a real human
soul enter into an animal's body when it is obvious that as an
animal it can make no use of its ~no/êsis~? (For this very reason
many Platonists--those who were not satisfied with ingenious or
artificial interpretations: cf. Sallust., _de Dis_ 20; Procl., _in
Tim._ 329 DE--denied the entrance of the human soul into animals;
cf. Aug. _CD._ X, 30, and partic. Nemes., p. 116 Matth. Lucr. iii,
760, already seems to have such Platonists in mind.) The
~logistiko/n~ of the soul seems to be absent from animals or to be
present but undeveloped as in children: _Rp._ iv, 441 A B (or does
it remain permanently bound in ~aphrosu/nê~? see above, this chap.,
n. 33. Just such a theory put forward by exponents of
~metempsu/chôsis~ who would make the ~psuchê/~ always the same but
not always equally active, is attacked by Alex. Aphr., _de An._, p.
27 Br.). But acc. to the later doctrine of Plato the ~logistiko/n~
comprises the whole contents of the soul before it enters a body; if
the animals do not possess it then they do not strictly speaking
possess a soul (~thumo/s~ and ~epithumi/a~ in themselves are not the
soul; they are only added to the soul when it first enters into a
body). It seems certain that Plato adopted the view that the soul
migrates into the bodies of animals from the theologians and
Pythagoreans, while he still believed that the soul was not pure
power of thought but also (as still in _Phdr._) included ~thumo/s~
and ~epithumi/a~ in itself. Later, because it was difficult to do
without the migration-theory of the soul on account of its ethical
importance, he allowed the idea to remain side by side with his
reorganized and sublimated doctrine of the soul. (On the other hand,
metempsychosis into plants--which are certainly also ~zô=|a~, though
they only have to ~to\ epithumêtiko/n~, _Tim._ 77 B--was never
adopted by him from Empedokles; cf. Procl., _in Rp._ ii, 333 Kr.,
and for the same reason: this idea was unimportant and indifferent
from an ethical point of view.)]
[41\13: ~tê\n eis to\n noêto\n to/pon tê=s psuchê=s a/nodon~, _Rp._
517 B.]
[42\13: ~epeidê\ de\ age/nêto/n esti, kai\ adia/phthoron auto\
anagkê ei=nai~, _Phdr._ 245 D--the ancient argument from the fact
that the individual soul (and of this Plato is speaking) has no
beginning to the conclusion that its life can have no end.]
[43\13: This much may be conceded to Teichmüller's observations.
"The individual, and the individual soul, is not an independent
principle but only a resultant of the compounding of the Idea and
the principle of Becoming"--though this is not how Plato regards the
{484} matter; hence in Plato--"the individual is not eternal (i.e.
not necessarily), and the eternal Principles are not individual",
_Stud. z. Ges. d. Begr._, p. 115, 142 (1874). But all that
Teichmüller has to say under this head is in reality only a
_criticism_ of the Platonic doctrine of the soul and does not help us
to determine what exactly that doctrine was. Plato speaks always of
the immortality, i.e. the eternity, of the individual soul; nowhere
does he confine indestructibility to the "common nature" of the
soul; and this fact is not even remotely explained by appealing as
Teichmüller does to an alleged "orthodoxy" to which Plato is
supposed to be accommodating his words. If from no other passage we
should be obliged to conclude definitely from _Rp._ 611 A that Plato
believed in the existence of a plurality of souls and in their
indestructibility: ~aei\ a\n ei=en hai autai/ (psuchai/). ou/te ga\r
a/n pou ela/ttous ge/nointo mêdemia=s apollume/nês, ou/te hau=
plei/ous~. Here the predicate of the first sentence is indubitably
~ei=en~ only; it is affirmed that always the same souls will exist,
not that ~hai autai\ ei=en~ ("the souls are always the same ones")
as Teichmüller supposes, _Platon. Frage_, 7 ff., and it is asserted
with all possible plainness that the plurality of individual souls,
of which a definite number exist, is indestructible.]
[44\13: E.g. appeal made to ~teletai/, palaioi\ lo/goi en
aporrê/tois lego/menoi~, and particularly to Orphic doctrine, in
those places where he is speaking of the inward difference between
the soul and all that is corporeal, of the soul's "death" in earthly
life, of its enclosure in the ~sô=ma~ as its ~sê=ma~ in punishment
of its misdeeds--of punishment and purification after death in
~Ha/idês~, of the migration of the soul, its imperishability,
dwelling of the pure in the neighbourhood of the gods (_Phd._ 61 BC,
63 C, 70 C, 81 A, 107 D ff.; _Gorg._ 493 A; _Crat._ 400 BC; _Men._
81 A; _Lg._ 870 DE, 872 E). This also is the origin of the tendency
to compare the highest philosophical activity, or the beholding of
the Ideas before all time, with the ~epoptei=ai~ of the mysteries:
_Phdr._ 250 B; cf. Lob., _Agl._ 128.]
[45\13: Nine (an ancient sacred number) stages from the
~philo/sophos~ downwards to the ~tu/rannos~, _Phdr._ 248 DE.]
[46\13: This is frequently stated in individual myths; cf. also
_Phd._ 85 CD.]
[47\13: _Phdr._ 250 C (~o/streon~): _Rp._ 611 CD (Glaukos).]
[48\13: ~tê\n tou= o/ntos thê/ran~, _Phd._ 66 C (~ho/tan autê\ kath'
hautê\n pragmateu/êtai hê psuchê\ peri\ ta\ o/nta~, _Tht._ 187 A.
~autê=| tê=| psuchê=| theate/on auta\ ta\ pra/gmata~, _Phd._ 66 D).]
[49\13: ~xunai/tia~, _Tim._ 46 C ff. ~nou=s kai\ ana/gkê~, 47 E ff.
(~ho theo/s~ is ~pollô=n anai/tios~, namely ~tô=n kakô=n~, _Rp._ 379
AC).]
[50\13: The ~sô=ma~ with which the soul is bound up is a ~kako/n~,
_Phd._ 66 B (~desmoi/~ of the soul, 67 D). The ~kaka/~ in the world
are regularly said to come from matter until in _Lg._, side by side
with the ~**euerge/tis psuchê/~ of the world, there appears an evil
World-Soul that works evil.]
[51\13: Particularly in _Phd._, ~kathareu/ein--ka/tharsis--hoi
philosophi/a| hikanô=s kathêra/menoi~ in contrast with the
~aka/thartoi psuchai/~, 67 A ff., 69 BC, 80 E, 82 D, 108 B, 114 C.
Katharsis of the soul through dialectic Soph. 230 C ff. Express
allusion to the analogous requirement of ~ka/tharsis~ by ~hoi ta\s
teleta\s hêmi=n katastê/santes~, _Phd._ 69 C.]
[52\13: ~_ka/tharsis_ ei=nai tou=to xumbai/nei, to\ chôri/zein ho/
ti ma/lista apo\ tou= sô/matos tê\n psuchê\n kai\ ethi/sai autê\n
kath' hautê\n pantacho/then ek tou= sô/matos sunagei/resthai/ te
kai\ hathroi/zesthai, kai\ oikei=n kata\ to\ dunato\n kai\ en tô=|
nu=n paro/nti kai\ en tô=| e/peita mo/nên kath' hautê=n, ekluome/nên
hô/sper ek desmô=n ek tou= sô/matos~, _Phd._ 67 C. Thus
~dikaiosu/nê~ and {485} ~andrei/a~, and more particularly
~phro/nêsis~, are ~katharmo/s tis~, 69 BC. ~lu/sis te kai\
katharmo/s~ of ~philosophi/a~, 82 D.]
[53\13: ~philosophi/a~ teaches the soul ~eis hautê\n xulle/gesthai
kai\ hathroi/zesthai~ and to ~anachôrei=n~ from the ~apa/tê~ of the
senses ~ho/son mê\ ana/gkê autoi=s chrê=sthai~, _Phd._ 83 A.--~ea\n
kathara\ hê psuchê\ apalla/ttêtai . . . pheu/gousa to\ sô=ma kai\
sunêthroisme/nê autê\ eis hautê/n~, 80 E, 76 C.]
[54\13: ~. . . katharoi\ apallatto/menoi tê=s tou= sô/matos
aphrosu/nês . . . gnôso/metha di' hêmô=n autô=n pa=n to\
eilikrine/s, mê\ katharô=| ga\r katharou= epha/ptesthai mê\ ou
themito\n ê=|~, _Phd._ 67 AB.]
[55\13: For the ~agatho/n, hê tou= agathou= ide/a, aiti/a~ both of
~alê/theia~ and of ~epistê/mê~ but identical with neither (they are
only ~agathoeidê=~) and ~e/ti meizo/nôs timête/on~--cause of the
~gignôsko/mena~ and not only of ~gignô/skesthai~, of both ~ei=nai~
and ~ousi/a, ouk ousi/as o/ntos tou= agathou= all' e/ti epe/keina
tê=s ousi/as presbei/a| kai\ duna/mei hupere/chontos~--see _Rp._ vi,
c. 19 (508 A ff.), 517 BC. Here ~to\ agatho/n~, as the reason and
active cause of all Being is itself placed beyond and above Being
(as it is regularly with the Neoplatonics) and identified with
Godhead (the ~thei=os nou=s~, _Phil._ 22 C); this last is, however,
in _Tim._ set side by side with the Ideas, of which ~to\ agatho/n~
is now the highest.]
[56\13: ~hê tou= agathou= ide/a me/giston ma/thêma~, _Rp._ 505 A.]
[57\13: The ~periagôgê/~ of the soul, _Rp._ vii init.]
[58\13: The philosopher, ~exista/menos tô=n anthrôpi/nôn
spoudasma/tôn kai\ pro\s tô=| thei/ô| gigno/menos, _enthousia/zôn_
le/lêthe tou\s pollou/s~, _Phdr._ 249 D.]
[59\13: ~ho ga\r sunoptiko\s dialektiko/s~, _Rp._ 537 C. ~eis mi/an
ide/an sunorô=nta a/gein ta\ pollachê=| diesparme/na~ (and again
~kat' ei/dê te/mnein~ what is unified)--this is the business of the
~dialektiko/s~, _Phdr._ 265 D. ~ek pollô=n aisthê/seôn eis he\n
logismô=| xunairou/menon (ie/nai~, _Phdr._ 249 B.]
[60\13: Gradual ascent of dialectic upwards to ~auto\ ho\ e/stin
agatho/n~, _Rp._ 532 A f., 511 BC, 534 B ff. to ~auto\ to\ kalo/n~,
_Smp._ c. 28-9 (211 B). Its aim is ~epanagôgê\ tou= belti/stou en
psuchê=| pro\s tou= ari/stou en toi=s ou=si the/an~, _Rp._ 532 C.]
[61\13: The philosophic ~erôtiko/s~ at the end of the dialectic
ascent ~_exai/phnês_ kato/psetai/ ti thaumasto\n tê\n phu/sin kalo/n
ktl.~, _Smp._ 210 E--exactly as in the ~te/lea kai\ epoptika\
mustê/ria~, 210 A. ~holo/klêra kai\ hapla= kai\ eudai/mona pha/smata
muoumenoi/ te kai\ epopteu/ontes en augê=| kathara=|~, _Phdr._ 250
C.--it is a visionary and a suddenly acquired apprehension of the
world-order, not one obtained in discursive thought. We may compare
the way in which Plotinos, with a recollection of such Platonic
passages, describes the arrival of ~e/kstasis--ho/tan hê psuchê\
_exai/phnês_ phô=s la/bê| ktl.~ (5, 3, 17; cf. 5, 5, 17).]
[62\13: The soul ~e/oike tô=| thei/ô|~, _Phd._ 80 A. It is
~xuggenê\s tô=| te thei/ô| kai\ athana/tô| kai\ tô=| aei\ o/nti~,
_Rp._ 611 E--~sugge/neia thei/a~ of men; _Lg._ 899 D. The eternal
and immortal is, as such, divine. The real _Ego_ of man, the
~atha/naton, psuchê\ eponomazo/menon~, after death goes ~para\
theou\s a/llous~, _Lg._ 959 B.]
[63\13: The ~thei=on, athana/tois homô/numon~, part of the soul is
~atha/natos archê\ thnêtou= zô/|ou~, _Tim._ 41 C, 42 E. The
~phro/nêsis~ of the soul (its "wing" _Phdr._ 246 D) ~tô=| thei/ô|
e/oiken~, _Alc._^1 133 C.--In _Tim._ 90 A C this ~kuriô/taton tê=s
psuchê=s ei=dos~ is actually called the _~dai/môn~_ which man has
~xu/noikon en hautô=|~.]
[64\13: The eye is ~hêlioeide/staton tô=n peri\ ta\s aisthê/seis
orga/nôn~, _Rp._ 508 B.--Goethe is alluding either to these words or
to the phrase of Plotinos taken from them, 1, 6 (~peri\ tou=
kalou=~), 9.]
[65\13: ~epistê/mê kai\ alê/theia~ are both ~agathoeidê=~, _Rp._ 509
A--the soul something ~theoeide/s~, _Phd._ 95 C.] {486}
[66\13: From the ~philosophi/a~ of the soul and from the question
~hô=n ha/ptetai kai\ hoi/ôn ephi/etai homiliô=n~ its real nature can
be discerned as one which is ~xuggenê\s tô=| thei/ô| kai\ athana/tô|
kai\ tô=| aei\ o/nti~, _Rp._ 611 DE; _Phd._ 79 D. With the
~xuggene/s~ of the soul we achieve contact with the ~o/ntôs o/n~,
_Rp._ 490 B. If the Ideas are everlasting, so must our soul be,
_Phd._ 76 DE. By its power of ~phronei=n atha/nata kai\ thei=a~ the
~anthrôpi/nê phu/sis~ has itself a share ~kath' ho/son ende/chetai~
(i.e. with ~nou=s~) in ~athanasi/a~, _Tim._ 90 BC. This thinking
"part" of the soul ~pro\s tê\n en ouranô=| xugge/neian apo\ gê=s
hêma=s ai/rei, hôs o/ntas phuto\n ouk e/ggeion all' oura/nion~,
_Tim._ 90 A.]
[67\13: ~_lu/ein_ tê\n psuchê\n~ from the body and from
sense-perception, _Phd._ 83 AB, 65 A, 67 D. ~lu/sis~ and
~katharmo/s~ of the soul by ~philosophi/a~, _Phd._ 82 D. ~lu/sis
kai\ i/asis tô=n desmô=n~ (of the body) ~kai\ tê=s aphrosu/nês~,
_Rp._ 515 C.]
[68\13: ~thei=os eis to\ dunato\n anthrô/pô| gi/gnetai~--said of the
true philosopher, _Rp._ 500 D; ~atha/natos~, _Smp._ 212 A. The
~philo/sophos~ is perpetually in contact with the ~o\n aei\~ and the
~thei=on~, which last is with difficulty recognizable by the eyes of
~tê=s tô=n pollô=n psuchê=s~, Soph. 254 A.--~kai/ moi dokei= theo\s
me\n~ (as e.g. Empedokles called himself) ~anê\r oudamô=s ei=nai,
_thei=os_ mê/n; pa/ntas ga\r egô\ tou\s philoso/phous toiou/tous
prosagoreu/ô~ _Soph._ 216 B (where ~thei=os~ is used in quite a
different sense from that it has in other passages where Plato
speaks of ~chrêsmô|doi\ kai\ theoma/nteis~ as ~thei=oi~, _Men._ 99
C, and of the insight and virtue of the unphilosophic as coming
~thei/a| moi/ra| a/neu nou=~).]
[69\13: _Rp._ 519 C, 540 B.--~tê=s tou= o/ntos the/as, hoi/an
_hêdonê\n_ e/chei, adu/naton a/llô| gegeu=sthai plê\n tô=|
philoso/phô|~, _Rp._ 582 C (cf. _Phileb._).]
[70\13: The flight ~enthe/nde ekei=se~ produces ~homoi/ôsin theô=|
kata\ to\ dunato\n~, _Tht._ 176 B. ~homoiou=sthai theô=|~, _Rp._ 613
A (~to\ katanooume/nô| to\ katanoou=n exomoiô=sai~, _Tim._ 90 D).]
[70a\13: The soul that has through philosophy become completely
"pure" is withdrawn from the cycle of Rebirth and from the whole
material world. Even as early as _Phdr._ the souls of the
~philosophê/santes~ after a third ~ensôma/tôsis~ are exempt for the
remainder of the ~peri/odos~ of 10,000 years, while the real and
unwavering (~aei/~) philosopher remains _for ever_ free from the
body. That at least must be the meaning of 248 C-249 A. The subject
is then treated in more detail in _Phd._: Release of the
~philosophi/a| hikanô=s kathêra/menoi~ for ever from life in the
body (~a/neu sôma/tôn zô=si to\ para/pan eis to\n e/peita chro/non~,
114 C)--entry of the pure soul to its kin (~eis to\ xuggene/s~, 84
B) and its like (~eis to\ ho/moion autê=|, to\ aeide/s~, 81 A), and
~eis theô=n ge/nos~, 82 B--and to the ~tou= thei/ou te kai\
katharou= kai\ monoeidou=s xunousi/a~, 83 E. Still more
mythologically expressed--_Tim._ 42 BD (~ho tô=n kakô=n katharo\s
to/pos~ _Tht._ 177 A). Throughout we have the release theory of the
theologians re-expressed in a philosophical and more elevated manner
(Orphic: ~memuême/noi~, _Phd._ 81).]
[71\13: ~. . . ou rha/|dion dêlô=sai . . .~ , _Phd._ 114 C.]
[72\13: To the ~aï/dios ousi/a, to\ _e/sti_ mo/non kata\ to\n
alêthê= lo/gon prosê/kei~ _Tim._ 37 E.]
[73\13: It is true that not until it becomes associated with the
body does the soul, by obtaining ~ai/sthêsis~, ~epithumi/a~,
~thumo/s~, and all the other faculties that bring it into touch with
Becoming and Changing, obtain what can strictly be called its
individual personality. The perfectly adequate comprehension in
thought of the ever-Unchanging by the bodiless and free soul would
have no individualized content. We must not, however, (with Teichm.,
_Pl. Fr._ 40), conclude from this that Plato knew nothing of an
immortality of the individual and of {487} individuality. He did not
distinctly raise the question of the seat and origin of
individuality in the soul. He is content to suppose that a plurality
of individual souls was living before their entanglement with
Becoming, and to conclude from this that in eternity, too, after
their last escape from ~ge/nesis~, the same number of individual
souls will still be living. Numerical distinctness (which affects in
a scarcely intelligible manner the spaceless and immaterial) has to
do duty with him for qualitative distinctness which would alone be
able to account for the self-consciousness of this plurality. Acc.
to the picture given in _Tim._ c. 14 (41 D ff.) the souls created by
the ~dêmiourgo/s~ are evidently all alike (hence also is ~ge/nesis
prô/tê tetagme/nê mi/a pa=sin~, 41 E), and only when they are in the
~sô=ma~, and bound up with mortal portions of soul, do they react in
different ways to what affects them from without--and so become
different. (This is so, however, in the pre-existent period, too,
acc. to _Phd._: but in that account ~thumo/s~ and ~epithumi/a~ are
also bound up with the soul in pre-existence.) The influence of the
lower soul-partners and of the ~trophê\ paideu/seôs~ (_Tim._ 44 B)
makes the ~logistika/~ also of the souls differ among themselves.
This acquired individual characterization, the fruit of differing
~paidei/a kai\ trophê/~--something quite the reverse of the "common
nature" of "soul" in general which Teichmüller supposes to be meant
here: _Stud._ 143--is taken with it by the soul to the place of
judgment, i.e. Hades, _Phd._ 107 D. When, however, by the best
~trophê\ paideu/seôs~ it has become completely pure and free from
all the trammels of the physical and perishable and departs into
bodiless existence in the ~aeide/s~--then in truth all individual
distinctness has been dissolved out of it. Still, it must endure for
ever as a self-conscious personality; for that this is what Plato
meant cannot be doubted.]
[74\13: _Phd._ 83 D.]
[75\13: ~chôri/zein ho/ti ma/lista apo\ tou= sô/matos tê\n
psuchê\n~, _Phd._ 67 C. ~anachôrei=n~, 83 (quite in the manner of
genuine mysticism--it is the "separateness" of the man who is to
behold god, of which Eckhart speaks).]
[76\13: _Phd._ 64 A ff., 67 E.]
[77\13: _Phd._ 114 C.]
[78\13: ~tou= sô/matos pto/êsis kai\ mani/a~, _Crat._ 404 A.]
[79\13: ~tô=| xuggenei= plêsia/sas kai\ migei\s tô=| o/nti o/ntôs~,
_Rp._ 490 B.]
[80\13: The soul ~eô=sa chai/rein to\ sô=ma kai\ kath' ho/son
du/natai ou koinônou=sa ore/getai tou= o/ntos~, _Phd._ 65 C. In the
same way the Appearance yearns after the Idea; see above, this
chap., n. 9.]
[81\13: ~tê=s phronê/seôs ktê=sis~, _Phd._ 65 A ff.]
[82\13: ~peira=sthai chrê= enthe/nde ekei=se pheu/gein ho/ti
ta/chista. phugê\ de homoi/ôsis theô=| kata\ to\ dunato/n~, _Tht._
176 AB.]
[83\13: _Rp._ 523 A-524 D.]
[84\13: Beyond all other things it is the ~ka/llos~ of the world of
Appearance that awakes the memory of that which has once been seen
in the world of Ideas: _Phdr._ 250 B, 250 D ff.; _Smp._ c. 28 ff.
(210 A ff.). Plato gives a peculiar reason for this, but in reality
it is due to a vigorous re-emergence of the fundamental artistic
sense--the aesthetic element in his philosophic speculation and
enthusiasm--which the thinker had so violently suppressed in
obedience to his theory that the ~aisthê/seis~ and all the arts are
merely imitations of deceptive imitations of the only true Reality.]
[85\13: Not ~ma/thêsis~--only ~ana/mnêsis~, _Phdr._ 249 BC; Men. c.
14 ff. (80 D ff.); _Phd._ c. 18 ff. (72 E ff.). (This theory occurs
regularly in Plato in close connexion with the theory of the soul's
migrations; {488} and it appears that he did as a matter of fact
derive it from the anticipations and suggestions of earlier teachers
of metempsychosis: see above, chap. xi, n. 96.)]
[86\13: _Rp._ vii init.]
[87\13: ~homoi/ôsis de\ theô=| di/kaion kai\ ho/sion meta\
phronê/seôs gene/sthai~, _Tht._ 176 B.]
[88\13: ~eis agora\n ouk i/sasi tê\n hodo/n ktl.~, _Tht._ 173 D ff.]
[89\13: _Tht._ 172 C-177 C. The philosopher is unskilled in the life
of the everyday world and its arts, and is quite indifferent towards
them. Commonplace people, if he is at any time drawn into the
affairs of the market place or the law courts, regard him as
~euê/thês, ano/êtos, geloi=os~. Sometimes ~do/xan para/schoint' a\n
(hoi o/ntôs philo/sophoi) hôs panta/pasin e/chontes manikô=s~,
_Soph._ 216 D; _Rp._ 517 A--passages from the later writing of
Plato. Even as early as _Phdr._ 249 D ~exista/menos tô=n
anthrôpi/nôn spoudasma/tôn kai\ pro\s tô=| thei/ô| gigno/menos
nouthetei=tai hupo\ tô=n pollô=n hôs parakinô=n ktl.~]
[90\13: ~idiôteu/ein alla\ mê\ dêmosieu/ein~ is the injunction made
to the philosopher, _Ap._ 32 A; at least, in ~po/leis~ as they are,
_Rp._ 520 B. After death comes the reward ~andro\s philoso/phou ta\
hautou= pra/xantos kai\ ou polupragmonê/santos en tô=| bi/ô|~,
_Gorg._ 526 C. ~hô/sper eis thêri/a a/nthrôpos empesô/n~ the true
philosopher will ~hêsuchi/an e/chein kai\ ta\ hautou= pra/ttein~,
_Rp._ 496 D.]
[91\13: ~ta\ tô=n anthrô/pôn pra/gmata mega/lês me\n spoudê=s ouk
a/xia~, _Lg._ 803 B.]
[92\13: _Gorg._ 521 D. ~ho hôs alêthô=s kubernêtiko/s~, _Rp._ 488 E
(cf. also _Men._ 99 E, 100 A).]
[93\13: Not ~dia/konos kai\ epithumiô=n paraskeuastê/s~ but rather
an ~iatro/s~, _Gorg._ 518 C, 521 A; cf. 464 B ff.]
[94\13: _Gorg._ 519 A. All these worldly matters seem to him
~phluari/ai~: just as all the Appearances in the world of Becoming
are for him but ~phluari/ai~, _Rp._ 515 D.]
[95\13: _Gorg._ c. 78 ff. (522 B ff.).]
[96\13: ~hou=tos ho tro/pos a/ristos tou= bi/ou~, _Gorg._ 527
E--(this is the real subject of the _Gorg._, viz. ~ho/ntina chrê\
tro/pon zê=n~, 500 C, and not the nature of ~rhêtorikê/~--and it is
this which gives its special emotional tone to the dialogue).]
[97\13: _Gorg._ 515 C ff., 519 A ff. Summary: ~oude/na hêmei=s
i/smen a/ndra agatho\n gegono/ta ta\ politika\ en tê=|de tê=|
po/lei~, 517 A.]
[98\13: ~ouch hôs kalo/n ti all' hôs anagkai=on pra/ttontes~, _Rp._
540 B.]
[99\13: It is now the ~skopo\s en tô=| bi/ô|~--inaccessible to the
~apai/deutoi--hou= stochazome/nous dei= ha/panta pra/ttein~, _Rp._
519 C.]
[100\13: The ~a/llai aretai\ kalou/menai~ (even including ~sophi/a~
regarded as practical shrewdness: _Rp._ 428 B ff.) as ~eggu\s ou=sai
tô=n tou= sô/matos~ become of secondary importance compared with the
virtue of ~phro/nêsis~, i.e. of dialectic and the contemplation of
the Ideas, _Rp._ 518 DE. This alone is ~theio/teron~, something
~mei=zon~ than those bourgeois virtues, _Rp._ 504 D--philosophy
stands high above ~dêmotikê/ te kai\ politikê\ aretê/, ex e/thous te
kai\ meletê=s gegonui=a a/neu philosophi/as te kai\ nou=~, _Phd._ 82
BC.--This, too, rightly understood, is the real point of the inquiry
in _Meno_. Explicitly, indeed, the dialogue only concerns itself
with that ~aretê/~ which is commonly so regarded and is based on
~alêthê\s do/xa~, coming into existence by instinct (~thei/a
moi=ra~); which, however, to the philosopher is not ~aretê/~ in the
proper sense of the word; that name he would only give to
~epistê/mê~, the only sort of knowledge that can be learnt and
acquired as a permanent possession, depending as it does upon the
doctrine of Ideas. To ~epistê/mê~ he this time only makes distant
allusion.] {489}
[101\13: _Rp._ vii, c. 15 (535 A, 536 D); cf. vi, c. 2, 5 (485 B,
487 B; 489 D, 490 E.]
[102\13: ~kai\ tou= me\n (do/xês alêthou=s) pa/nta a/ndra mete/chein
phate/on, _nou=_ de\ theou/s, anthrô/pôn de\ ge/nos brachu/ ti~,
_Tim._ 51 E.]
[103\13: ~philo/sophon plê=thos adu/naton ei=nai~, _Rp._ 494 A.
~phu/seis~ of a completely philosophical kind, ~pa=s hêmi=n
homologê/sei oliga/kis en anthrô/pois phu/esthai kai\ oli/gas~,
_Rp._ 491 B.]
[104\13: "That into which I sink myself--that becomes one with me:
when I think on Him I _am_ as God that is the Fount of Being"--the
true mystic note. For the mystics, knowledge of an object is real
oneness with the thing known; knowledge of God is union with God.]
[105\13: _Rp._ 540 B.]
{{490}}
CHAPTER XIV
THE LATER AGE OF THE GREEK WORLD
PART I
PHILOSOPHY
Plato and the Platonic account of the nature, origin, and destiny of
the soul closes a period. It marks the end of that theological and
spiritualist movement to the force and significance of which nothing
bears clearer witness than the fact that it could have such a
conclusion. After this point its development ceases--at least it
disappears from the surface of Greek life: like one of those Asiatic
torrents with which the ancients were familiar it buries itself
underground for a long stretch of its course, only to reappear
eventually, with all the greater effect, far away from the place of
its origin. Even Plato's own school almost immediately after the
death of its master and directing spirit turned its attention in a
direction quite other than that which he had given it.[1\14] To have
retained the Platonic outlook would have made his pupils even more
isolated in their very different age than Plato himself had been in
his own.
Greece entered upon a new and final phase of her development. The
ominous breakdown of the older political fabric at the end of the
fourth century might have seemed likely to put an end to the natural
vitality of the Greek peoples. With the conquest of the East by
Macedonians and Greeks, however, new tasks were set before that
people and with the new task they acquired new faculties. The
_polis_, indeed, the purest expression of Greek constructive
ability, could not be restored to life. Such of the old and narrow
city-republics as had not perished completely in that stormy period
only languished in a stagnant peace. Rare, indeed, are the
exceptions in which (as particularly in Rhodos) a more vigorous and
independent life asserted itself. The new and swollen cities of the
Macedonian Empire, with their motley populations drawn from many
nationalities, could not make good the loss. The Leagues in which
Greece seemed to be making an effort to find a political
organization of a wider compass soon broke down under the effects of
inward {491} corruption and external violence. Even in its deepest
and most essential character the old national spirit of Greece,
which had drawn its strength from its clear-cut individuality,
seemed to be suffering damage through the unlimited extension
eastwards and westwards of Greek life. It did not cease to be an
immeasurable advantage to be a Greek, but a Greek now meant anyone
who had a share in the one thing that still distinguished and
characterized the Greeks, namely, Greek culture--and Greek culture
was no longer confined to a single nation. It was no fault of this
Greek humanism that not a single one of the vast populations of the
East (and in the West at last Rome stood alone) was able to make
their own this culture so generously offered to the whole world, so
that there, too, all should become _Greek_ who were capable of
becoming free human beings. Nevertheless, from all countries and
nationalities uncounted multitudes of _individuals_ entered into the
circle of this extended Hellenism. The way was open for all who
could live without the need of a way of life and thinking modelled
strictly upon national lines: for the culture which now united all
Greeks and Greek communities was based upon science--and science
knows nothing of national frontiers.
The science which could thus present itself as the guiding principle
of such a large and heterogeneous mass of cultured people, must at
any rate have reached a condition of stability if not of completely
rounded finality. After all the stir and controversy of the previous
centuries it had at last arrived at a period of contented enjoyment
of its own resources: the long drawn-out struggle, the restless
years of search were now held to have borne fruit. In philosophy at
least there was a distinct slackening of the insatiable zeal and
boldness of individual thinkers in posing new questions and wresting
answers or in seeking for fresh solutions to old problems. A few
great systems, formulated in accordance with the fixed tenets of the
various schools of thought, still offered a refuge to those who
demanded fixity and definition in their opinions; for centuries they
kept up their special traditions without serious alteration until
they, too, fell in pieces at last. A greater measure of independence
and variety was displayed by the special sciences which since they
had now been completely released for the first time from the
leading-strings of philosophy proceeded to develop freely in
accordance with their own principles. Art, too, was by no means
devoid as yet of originality and attractiveness, and in spite of the
overwhelming achievements of the past refused to be driven {492}
into a position of subservience and imitation. But it was no longer,
in conjunction with the peculiar customs and manners of a people,
the mistress and dispenser of wisdom and knowledge of the world. Art
becomes a plaything and an incidental diversion: it is science that
determines the general character and content of culture. But this
scientifically minded culture shares in the natural temper of all
science. Science has its feet firmly planted in life itself: it
keeps men's minds actively employed in this world; it has small
temptation to leave the firm ground of what is knowable and can
never be too well known, to voyage out into the region of the
intangible which can never be a subject of scientific inquiry. A
cool rationalism, a calm adherence to the intelligible and
thinkable, without any leanings to the gloomy terrors of a
mysterious world of the unknown--such is the temper that marks the
science and culture of the Hellenistic age and marks it more
distinctively than any other period of Greek culture. Such mysticism
as was still vigorous and effective kept itself timidly in the
background at this time; in the everyday world it is rather the
direct contrary of mysticism that we are made aware of; the unlovely
results of the prevailing rationalism, a bleak reasonableness, a
knowing and prosaic common sense such as stares dully at us from the
pages of Polybios' History as the point of view of the narrator
himself and of those of whom he writes. It was no age of heroes or
of the heroic. A weaker and more delicate generation holds the
field. The breakdown of political life and the disappearance of its
obligations made it more possible than it had ever been before for
the individual to lead his own life in his own way.[2\14] And he
makes the most of his freedom, his culture, the treasures of an
inward, private life enriched with all the brilliance and charm of
an old and perfected civilization. All the past had thought and
laboured on his behalf; he is not idle, but he is busy without ever
being in a hurry, enjoying his heritage and taking his ease in the
cooling sunlight of the long drawn-out autumn of Greek life. And he
is little concerned to inquire what may follow when this brilliant,
many-coloured world that surrounds him shall have vanished from his
gaze. This world is all in all to him. The hope or fear of
immortality has little effect upon the educated people of the
age.[3\14] Philosophy to which in one form or another they are all
more or less closely attached teaches them according to its
particular mood to cherish that hope or calmly to set it to one
side: in none of the popular sects {493} had the doctrine of the
eternity or imperishable nature of the soul any serious significance
as the central doctrine of a system. Natural science ruled the day,
while theology remained in the background and could only obtain a
doubtful hearing (if it was even listened to at all) for its
proclamation of the divine origin and everlasting life of the souls.
§ 2
At the outset of this period, and illuminating a long stretch of it
with the light of his genius, stands the figure of Aristotle. In
what this master _di color' che sanno_ had to say of the soul's
nature and destiny two voices are distinctly audible. The soul, he
instructs us, is that which in a living and organic physical body
brings the potentially existing to actual existence. It is the
_form_ to the body's matter, the culmination of the capacities of
independent life residing in the particular body. Bodiless and
immaterial itself, it is not the outcome of the mixture of the
various parts of the body; it is the cause, not the resultant, of
the vital functions of its body which exists for the soul's benefit
as its "instrument".[4\14] It dwells within a natural organism and
though it is itself unmoved it moves that organism as the source of
its growth and nourishment, of its desires and locomotion, of its
feeling and perceiving; while in the higher organisms it acts as the
combination of all these faces. It is as little to be thought of as
separate from the body--its own body--as the power of vision is in
separation from the eye or as its shape from the moulded waxen
image.[5\14] Theoretically, indeed, it is possible to distinguish
between body and soul, but actually and in the animated organism
they cannot be distinguished. When the living creature dies the
matter of which it was composed loses it special adaptation to a
purposeful organism, and this adaptation was its life; without it
there can be no independent "Substance" (~ousi/a~).[6\14] The Form,
the functional power of the once living organism, its "soul", has no
longer any independent existence.
This is the voice of Aristotle the physicist when he is speaking
from the standpoint of a physical doctrine which includes the study
of the soul "in so far as it occurs not without matter".[7\14]
Aristotle the metaphysician takes us further. In the soul of man,
besides the vital powers of the organized individual, there lives a
spiritual being of more than natural character and origin, the
"Mind"--"that in us which thinks and conceives".[8\14] This thinking
mind is not bound to the body and its life.[9\14] It does not come
into being with the creation of the human organism which is
completed by the addition of Mind. It has no beginning and was
uncreated from eternity:[10\14] it enters into man at his creation
"from without".[11\14] Even while it lives within the body it
remains unmingled with the body and its powers and uninfluenced by
them.[12\14] Enclosed within itself it lives its separate life as
something quite other than the "soul" (of which it is nevertheless
called a "part"[13\14]) and separated from it by a gulf. Comparable
with the God of Aristotle's world it transcends what might be called
its "little world",[14\14] the living human organism. It influences
that organism without being influenced in turn. It is akin to God;
it is called the "divine" in man.[15\14] Its activity is the same as
that of God.[16\14] God--pure substance, unlimited, highest,
everlasting actuality--is absolute and perpetually operant
thinking.[17\14] All practical activity, doing and creating, is far
removed from God.[18\14] So, too, the "Mind" is entirely occupied in
thinking (though here there is some alternation perhaps between the
potential and the actual).[19\14] It grasps, in an intuition of the
intellect that is beyond failure and error,[20\14] the "unmediated"
first principles, the first and highest concepts, immediately
certain and not deducible from still higher concepts, from which all
knowledge and philosophy is derived.[21\14]
In its association with the body and its "soul" this thinking Reason
lives as "the ruling"[22\14] element over both--not, however, as the
"realization" of this particular individual creature. The Mind is
indeed said to be that which the individual man "is",[23\14] and
without the addition of Mind the man could not exist, but the
special and personal character belonging to the individual is not to
be found in this reasoning Mind.[24\14] Mind is totally devoid of
distinguishable qualities and is identical in every case where it
appears; it is invariably foreign to the separate and individual
character of the man to whom it is added, and hardly seems to be
_his_ peculiar property.
When death occurs the thinking "Mind" is not involved in the
destruction which overtakes the human organism with which it was
associated. Death does not affect it. Like everything that is
without beginning it is indestructible.[25\14] It returns again to
its separate existence. Like the great World-Mind, God, and in
company with it--for it has not sprung from God and does not merge
again into God--the individual Mind of man continues in unending
life.[26\14] It {495} disappears now into impenetrable darkness. The
separate existence of the Mind is beyond not merely our perception
but our conceiving as well--persisting for itself alone, Mind has no
mental activity, no memory and no consciousness; indeed, it is
impossible to say what special qualities or activity can be
attributed to it beyond the simple predicate of existence, of
being.[27\14]
In the doctrine of this thinking Mind which is associated with the
human soul "from without" and never merges into it, of its
pre-existence from eternity, its kinship with God and its
imperishable life after its separation from the human organism--in
all this Aristotle preserves a mythological element taken from the
dogmatic teaching of Plato.
There was a time when he had been a complete Platonist precisely in
his doctrine of the soul. In his youth, like other members of the
Academy, he had yielded[28\14] to the fascination of clothing in
artistic and perfected language brilliant fantasies about the
origin, nature, and destiny of the soul--the divine daimon[29\14]
inhabiting the mortal frame of man. Later, however, it seemed
inconceivable to him that "any soul may inhabit any body".[30\14] He
could only conceive of the "soul" of the individual man as a
realization of the life of this entirely distinct and physical
organism, to which it is indissolubly bound as the purpose and form
of the particular instrument. All the vital powers as well as
appetite, perception, memory, and reflective thought, appeared to
him merely as the modes of activity manifested by the animated body
which is itself unthinkable apart from its "soul". And yet he still
preserved a relic of the old dualistic opposition between the body
and the independent substantial soul--the same conception of the
soul, in fact, as that which Plato had himself, in the later period
of his philosophical development, alone retained. This was as the
contemplative Mind which is occupied in apprehending the highest
truths in intellectual intuition; and this mind is, according to
Aristotle, not to be included in the "soul", but to be separated
from it as a special being that has descended from the heights of
divinity and has been coupled with the soul from without and for its
limited period of life. The origin of this conception of a
reduplicated soul is plain: it is derived from memories of Plato and
beyond that from theological doctrine which was itself in the last
resort but a spiritualized restatement of primeval popular fancies
of the psyche that dwells in the living body. But though he took
over the doctrine he did not take over the special sense that {496}
the theologians had given to it: he omitted both the conclusions
they drew and the exhortations they based upon it. We hear no more
of the "purification" of the divine Mind within mankind. It has
nothing impure or evil in it nor can any breath of pollution affect
it from without. The effort towards the "other world" of purity, the
denial and rejection of its earthly partner the living body, are
foreign to the "Mind" of Aristotle.[31\14] It has no impulse to
"deliverance" or self-emancipation; it knows of no peculiar task
that points beyond this world. The presence of this "separable" Mind
in the living man is an assured fact, and nothing more: no purpose
in life is deducible from it. The fact itself seemed to be evident
from the power that man possesses of grasping immediately a highest
form of knowledge that is beyond demonstration, not as the result of
the mental activity of his soul, for the apprehension is prior to
the soul, but by means of a higher spiritual faculty, a special
intellectual being that seemed to proclaim its presence and
existence within man in this way. It is thus by way of a theory of
knowledge not of a theological doctrine that we arrive at the
distinction between "Mind" and "Soul". But the doctrine thus
reasserted was in reality nothing but the old doctrine of the
theologians. This "Mind", too, seems to the thinker to be a being
akin to God. The pure contemplative existence, a life consisting in
the contemplation of the final objects of intuition is counted as a
privilege of the divine and of all divine beings, as the true
purpose of vital energy and of its manifestation; and in the
description of this state the sober reserve of his lecture style
seems to be uplifted and almost illuminated with the warmth and
brilliance imparted by a genuine glow of personal experience.[32\14]
This pure activity of contemplation, finding its deepest
satisfaction in itself, belongs to the divine in man--to the Mind;
its whole life lies in this. This activity, however, the Mind
performs and finishes in this life, while it is united with the body
and the body's "soul". There is nothing left that can be thought of
as forming the content of the life and activity of the Mind in its
separate existence after the completion of its period of life on
earth. Mind and the man with whom it is associated can hardly have a
very urgent desire for that emancipation in "another world" which is
thus left blank and without content for our thought. The thought of
immortality cast in this form could no longer possess any real value
or ethical significance for man.[33\14] It arises from a logical
deduction, from metaphysical considerations, not {497} from a demand
of the spirit. It lacks not only the distinctness that might have
appealed to the senses and given direction to the imagination, but
the power (or the intention) of playing a leading part in the
conduct or direction of life on this earth. There is no inspiration
in this doctrine--not even for the philosopher, though it was to him
and his activity and his efforts that the picture and panegyric of
"Mind", the philosopher in man, had really referred.
It was quite possible to abide by the teaching and philosophy of
Aristotle, directed as it was to the observation and interpretation
of the things of this world, while abandoning the advanced post of
the doctrine of Mind--that Being which has sunk to the level of this
world from the other world of divinity, which separates itself, with
the death of man, once more to everlasting divine life though hardly
to a continuation of individual existence. On this point in
particular free discussion of the master's teaching maintained
itself in his school: some, and by no means the weakest, of
Aristotle's successors denied altogether and in every form the
doctrine of immortality.[34\14]
§ 3
The dogmatic teaching of the Stoics on the subject of the human soul
is closely bound up with the materialistic pantheism by means of
which they explained all the phenomena of life, of being and
becoming upon earth. God is All, and divinity is nothing outside
this "all", which forms the world: the Universe is God. God is thus
not only the matter but the form, the life and the power of the
world. Divinity is the original matter, the etherial Fire, the fiery
"breath" which maintains itself or changes and in innumerable
metamorphoses creates the world. God is also what supplies a purpose
to this world and is the purposeful force--the reason and law of the
world. The universal deity which is thus at once matter, mind, and
formative principle sends out from itself at varying periods the
multiplicity of Appearance and then again at another time takes back
the multifarious and the divided into the fiery unity of its own
breath of life. Thus, in everything that has shape, in everything
that lives and moves, the content and the unifying form is God: he
is and works as their "state" in inorganic things, as "nature" in
plants, as "irrational soul" in the other living things, as rational
and thinking soul in man.[35\14] {498}
The soul of man, thus endowed with reason, is a fragment of the
divine,[36\14] and is itself divine like everything else in the
world but in a purer sense than all other things. It has remained
closer to the first and original essence of the divine, conceived as
"creative fire" (~pu=r technikô/n~), than the earthly fire which has
lost much of its original purity and refinement. It is closer[37\14]
than the lower matter that in all its changeful forms degenerates
progressively as it gets farther and farther away from the divine
fire by gradual loss of the tension (~to/nos~) that had once been
living and active in the primeval fire; closer even than the
material of its own body in which it dwells and rules. As something
essentially distinct from the body, then, the individual soul comes
into being among the elements of its body when that body is
conceived, and it develops its full nature after the birth of the
individual.[38\14] But even in its individual, separate existence it
remains incompletely detached from the universal life that is
present in it; it remains subject to the "universal Law" of the
world, which is God, and fast bound by "fate", the "destiny"
(~peprôme/nê, heimarme/ne~) which decrees the course of their
existence for the totality of all Life and the individual
lives.[39\14] Nevertheless, the soul has its special gifts and
special task--it is capable of self-determination and is responsible
for its own decisions and acts. Though it is a pure emanation from
the universal Reason and bound down to no irrational elements, it
has the power of irrational choice and can resolve upon what is
evil. Though they have all sprung from one and the same original
source the individual souls are of very different character,
intellect, and propensity of will. Unreason in thought, will, and
conduct is common in the world; those who have real insight are few;
in fact, the Wise Man, the man who keeps his own will in complete
harmony with the universal and divine direction of the world, is but
a picture of imaginary perfection, _naturæ humanæ exemplar_, never
fully and perfectly realized in actual life.
Ethical interests demanded the freedom and independence of the moral
personality and its will, which can only fulfil the requirements of
duty by self-mastery and the overthrow of base impulses; but this
independence was in conflict with the essential principles of Stoic
metaphysics. The Stoics taught that the world (and the soul included
in it) is only the necessary self-development of a single and
absolute Being that excludes all independent and separate
multiplicity. Nor could they recognize any principle of Evil, an
anti-rational principle answering to the purity of divine power,
working {499} evil and suggesting it, and making the individual
capable of wilful disobedience to the laws of all-embracing
divinity. Pure pantheism, uniting God and the world in indissoluble
unity, cannot imagine a real conflict between humanity and divinity;
it cannot postulate a principle of Evil through the overthrow of
which a lost unity with God is to be restored. Pantheism makes no
claims of an ethical or religious kind. The ingenuity of the Stoic
doctors was exercised in vain in the attempt to find a way out of
this dilemma.[40\14]
From the very origin of the school two tendencies were discernible
in the teaching of the Stoa, derived as that teaching was from such
different sources. On the one hand, the ethical doctrine of the
Cynics, to whom the Stoics owed the greater part of their practical
teaching, threw the individual back upon his own resources and made
everything depend upon the determination of his own will. It thus
pointed in the direction of the most self-sufficient
individualism--to an ethical atomism. The physical doctrine derived
from Herakleitos, on the other hand, merged the individual
completely into the omnipotence and omnipresence of the All-One; and
therefore, as its ethical counterpart, demanded that this relation
of the individual to the universal Logos of the world should find
expression in a life lived completely _ex ductu rationis_, in
unconditional abandonment of the individual will to the Universal
Mind that is the World and God.[41\14] In actual fact it was
Cynicism that had the profounder influence in ethical matters. The
universal Law and order of the world, embracing both universe and
individual in its absolute decrees, threw its net too widely to be
able to answer closely enough to the needs of narrow and individual
existence. No practical ethics could possibly unite this distant and
final aim with the individual man in a single nexus of ordered
self-determination. The intermediate link between the universe and
its laws, on the one hand, and the individual with his private will,
on the other, had formerly been the Greek _polis_ with its law and
custom. But it was a cosmopolitan age, and for the Stoics as well as
for the Cynics before them the city-state had lost most of its
educative force. The individual saw himself more and more left to
his own devices and forced to depend upon his own strength--his life
had to be ordered on self-erected standards and guided by self-found
rules. Individualism, which gave its tone to the age more decisively
than in any past period of Greek life, began to win a footing even
in this pantheistic system. The "Wise Man" who is a law to himself
in perfect {500} self-determination,[42\14] and feels himself bound
only to those like himself,[43\14] is individualism's fairest
flower.
But the soul, thus elevated to a height where it was capable of much
that was impossible for or only incompletely within the reach of its
weaker sisters, began more and more to seem like something rather
different from a mere dependent offshoot of the One divine power
that is the same everywhere. It is, in fact, regarded as an
independent, divine, and self-enclosed creature in those passages
where in Stoic literature, as in the older literature of the
theologians, the soul is called a "daimon"--the daimon dwelling
within the individual man, and given to him as his associate.[44\14]
Death, too, is regarded by this professedly monist system as a
separation of soul from body[45\14] in accordance with what was
really a naive or a conscious spiritualism. In death, then, this
soul-essence whose independence had been so marked even in life,
does not perish with the body--it does not even lose itself again in
the One from which it had taken its origin. An infinitely extended
individual life is indeed not attributed to the individual souls:
only God, the one Soul of the World, is eternally
indestructible.[46\14] But the souls which have arisen by separation
from the one and all-embracing divinity, survive the destruction of
their bodies: until the final dissolution, in the Conflagration that
will make an end of the present period of world-history, they
persist in their independent life; either all of them (as was the
older teaching of the school) or, as Chrysippos, the master of Stoic
orthodoxy, taught the souls of the "Wise" only, while the others
have been lost in the general life of the Whole some time
previously.[47\14] The stronger ethical personality is held together
in itself for a longer time.[48\14]
From the point of view of physical science and materialist
doctrine[49\14] it was also hard to see why the soul, composed of
pure fire-breath, which even in life had held the body together and
had not been held together by the body,[50\14] should disappear at
once when that body was disintegrated. As it had once held the body
together, so it might well and all the more easily hold itself
together now. Its lightness carries it upwards into the pure air
under the moon, where it is fed by the breath that rises upwards and
where there is nothing that can put an end to it.[51\14] An
"underworld" region like that of popular imagination and theological
teaching, was expressly denied by the Stoics.[52\14] Their
imagination preferred to exercise itself in an imaginary extension
of life in the Aether, which was their region of {501} the
souls;[53\14] but as a rule it appears that such flights of fancy
were avoided. The life of the souls after death--that of the wise as
well as of the unwise--remained indistinct and without
content[54\14] in the imagination of those whose life was still upon
earth.
Thus, the doctrine of the soul-personality and its continued
existence (never simply expanded into personal immortality), which
was in reality not required by the metaphysical principles of
Stoicism, and could indeed hardly be reconciled with them, had in
fact no serious significance for the general intention and substance
of Stoicism--least of all for Stoic ethics and conduct of life. The
philosophy of Stoicism is directed to the study of life, not of
death. In this life on earth and only here can the purpose of human
endeavour--the reproduction of divine wisdom and virtue in the human
spirit--be fulfilled in manful contest with contrary impulses,
fulfilled, that is, in so far as such a thing is possible for lonely
and isolated fragments of divinity.[55\14]
But virtue is sufficient in itself for the attainment of
happiness--a happiness which loses nothing through the brevity of
its duration and to which nothing would be added by the prolongation
of its span.[56\14] Nothing in the doctrine of Stoicism points man,
or the Wise Man, to another world beyond the life of the body and
outside this earthly theatre of conflict and duty, for the
fulfilment of his being and his task.
§ 4
The limited doctrine of immortality which, as we have seen, was not
an essential part of the teaching of Stoicism, began to be called in
question as soon as the rigid dogmatism of the school was subjected
to the too-searching criticism of other schools of thought. In the
clash of opinions Stoicism began to be doubtful of the absolute
validity of its own teaching. The boundaries of orthodox doctrine
once so firmly drawn now became more fluid; exchange and even
compromise became common. Panaitios, the first writer among the
pedantic professors of Stoicism to achieve a wider popularity for
his writings, became the teacher and friend of those aristocratic
Romans who found in Greek philosophy the impulse to a humanism that
the barren soil of Rome could never have produced unaided. And
Panaitios differed in more than one point from the strict orthodoxy
of the older Stoicism. For him the soul is formed of two distinct
elements[57\14]--it is no longer simple and undivided, but {502}
compounded of "Nature" and "Soul" (in the narrower sense).[58\14] In
death these two elements separate and change into other forms. The
soul having had its origin at a particular point in past time now
perishes in time. Being capable of grief and subject to the
destructive influence of the emotions it falls a victim at last to
its own pains. Panaitios, while remaining a Stoic, taught the
dissolution of the soul, its death and simultaneous destruction with
the death of the body.[59\14]
His pupil Poseidonios, who as a writer possessed an even greater
influence than Panaitios with the great majority of cultivated
readers who belonged to no special school of thought, returned to
the older Stoic doctrine of the simple and undivided nature of the
soul as fiery breath. He distinguished three faculties but not three
separate and independent elements in the human soul, and as a
consequence of this view had no further need to believe in the
dissolution of the soul into its component parts at death. He also
denied the origin of the individual soul in time, from which the
doctrine of its destruction in time had seemed to follow by a
logical necessity. He returned to the old theological idea of the
pre-existence of the soul, its life since the beginning of the
created world; and could therefore go on to assert its continued
existence after death--at least till the time of the next
destruction of the World at the hands of omnipotent Fire.[60\14]
It was not an inward and private necessity that led to this
transformation of the old teaching of the School. Doubts and
criticisms levelled at it from outside--from the Sceptics in
particular--had necessitated the change. While some gave up the
struggle, others sought refuge in a re-arrangement of the figures of
the dialectical game and by the introduction of fresh
characters.[61\14] Immortality might be abandoned to criticism or
reaffirmed in either case with equal indifference. The Platonic and
poetic version of Stoicism provided by Poseidonios may have found a
wider response among the readers of a highly cultivated society who
felt the need of a doctrine of immortality more as a satisfaction to
the artistic fancy than from any deeper or more temperamental
causes. Cicero, the most eloquent representative of the Hellenized
Roman culture of the time, may perhaps give us a picture of the
refined and æsthetic partiality with which these ideas were taken
up. In the _Dream of Scipio_ and the first book of the _Tusculans_,
he gives an account, mainly based on Poseidonios, of the belief then
held of a continued life of the soul in the divine element of the
Aether.[62\14] {503}
§ 5
Stoicism had a long and vigorous life. More than ever during the
first and second centuries of our era did it fulfil its real task of
acting as a practical guide to conduct, not as a mere museum of dead
erudition. It made good its claim to provide its adherents with the
autonomous freedom and independence of a mind at peace with itself,
whose virtue was proof against the tribulation and failure of life,
and not corrupted by its plenty. It was not always blind imitation
of a literary fashion or the love of displaying virtuous paradoxes
that attracted the noblest of the higher Roman aristocracy to the
doctrines of Stoicism. Not a few of them guided their lives in
accordance with its principles and even died for their convictions.
Not entirely "without tragic emotion", as the Stoic Emperor would
prefer it, but at any rate with conscious and deliberate
purpose--not in mere unreasoning **stubbornness[63\14]--did these
Stoic martyrs go to their death. Nor was it the unquestioned
certainty of a continued life in a higher existence that made them
so ready to give up life upon this earth.[64\14] Each in the special
manner dictated to him by his own temperament and the circumstances
of his life, they still speak to us, these leaders of Roman
Stoicism--Seneca the philosophic director of the world's conscience,
Marcus Aurelius the Emperor, and those instructors and patterns of
the aspiring youth of Rome, Musonius and Epictetus. The eager and
unswerving effort of these wise men to educate themselves to the
attainment of freedom and peace, of purity and goodness of heart,
wins our admiration--not least in the case of Seneca in whom the
struggle for self-mastery and philosophic calm must have been a
continual war with his own too-receptive and imaginative nature. But
just as they looked for no supernatural helper and redeemer but
trusted to the power of their own spirit for the assurance of
success, so they required no promise of a future crowning of their
labours in an after-life of the soul. The whole scope of their
endeavour lies within the limits of this world. The old Stoic belief
in the continued life of the individual soul until the annihilation
of all separate creation in the World Conflagration[65\14] is
regarded at the best as one possibility among many[66\14]--it is
perhaps but a "beautiful dream".[67\14] But whether death is a
transition to another form of being or a complete termination of
individual life--to the wise man it is equally welcome, for he
measures the value of life not by the number {504} of its years but
by the richness of its content. At bottom Seneca is inclined to the
view that death is the end of all things for man, after which
"everlasting peace" awaits the restless spirit.[68\14]
The Stoic Emperor is uncertain whether death is a dissipation of the
elements of the soul (as the atomists teach) or whether the mind
survives in a conscious or an unconscious existence that must yet
disappear eventually in the life of the Whole. All things are in
perpetual flux--so the Law of the universe has willed it--nor shall
the human personality maintain itself untouched and unchanged. But
even supposing that death is a "putting out" of his small individual
candle, the wise man is not afraid: to the melancholy that is the
prevailing mood of his gentle, pure, and high-strung character
Death, the annihilator, seems to beckon like a friend.[69\14]
The tougher spirit of the Phrygian slave and freedman needed no
conviction of personal survival to enable him to face the battle of
earthly life with courage and intrepidity. What has been made must
be unmade: without hesitation and without regret the wise man gives
himself up to the laws of the rationally-ordered universe in which
the present must make way for the future--not indeed to be lost
entirely, but to be changed and to merge its individuality, its
unimportant self in new manifestations of the creative stuff of
Life. The Whole does not perish, but its parts change and alter
their relations among themselves.[70\14] The pantheistic principles
of the school which had been taken over from Herakleitos and which
made it permanently inconceivable that the diminutive individual
spark of life could achieve a lasting separation from the central
fiery mass, had become a settled conviction. The passionate
abandonment of the personal, short-lived self to the everlasting
Whole and One had become a fixed habit of mind. No longer did it
seem intolerable that the individual existence should pass away
after a brief span of life; it was possible to remain a Stoic and
yet assert expressly, like Cornutus the teacher of Persius, that
with the death of its body there is an end, too, of the individual
soul.[71\14]
§ 6
The atomist doctrine renewed by Epicurus demanded in the most
emphatic manner of its adherents that they should abandon the belief
in personal survival.
For the atomist the soul is corporeal, a compound made {505} up of
the most mobile of the atoms which form the plastic elements of air
and fire. It occupies all parts of the body, and is held together by
the body, while at the same time, and in spite of this, holding
itself in essential distinctness from the body.[72\14] Epicurus also
speaks of the "Soul" as a special and enduring substance within the
body, a "part" of the corporeal, not a mere "harmony" resulting from
the association of the parts of the body.[73\14] He even speaks of
two parts or modes of manifestation in the "soul"; the irrational,
which holds the whole body in its sway as its vital force, and the
rational, situated in the breast, which exercises will and
intelligence and is the last and most essential source of life in
living things, without the undivided presence of which death
occurs.[74\14] _Anima_ and _animus_ (as Lucretius calls them),
distinct but not separable from one another,[75\14] come into being
in the embryo of man and grow to maturity, old age and decay,
together with the body.[76\14] If death occurs it means that the
atoms belonging to the body are separated and the soul-atoms
withdrawn--even before the final dissolution of the body, the
separable "soul" disappears. No longer held together by the body, it
is blown away in the wind, it disappears "like smoke" in the
air.[77\14] The soul, this soul that had animated the individual
man, is no more.[78\14] The material elements of which it was
composed are indestructible; it is quite possible that they may at
some future time combine together with the life-stuff to produce new
life and consciousness of exactly the same kind as had once been
joined together in the living man. But, if so, it will be a new
creature that thus comes into being: the original man has been
annihilated by death; there is no bond of continuous consciousness
uniting him with the fresh creation.[79\14] The vital forces of the
world are continuous, undiminished, indestructible, but in the
formation of the individual living creature they are only lent
temporarily, for this occasion and for a brief period, after which
they are withdrawn for ever from the particular creature. _Vitaque
mancipio nulli datur, omnibus usu._
After his death the individual is unaffected by the fate of his
inanimate body;[80\14] nor should he be troubled by the thought of
what may happen to the atoms of his soul. Death does not concern him
at all; for he only is when death is not; where death is, he is no
longer there.[81\14] Sensation and consciousness have left him at
the dissolution of body and soul; what he cannot possibly feel
affects him no longer. Epicurean maxims are never tired of driving
home {506} this proposition: death is nothing to us.[82\14] From
every possible direction, from abstract principle and practical
experience in actual life, Lucretius labours to demonstrate the
truth of this view[83\14] as ardently as other philosophers seek to
prove its opposite. Physical science has no more valuable service to
render than that of convincing us of its truth.[84\14] Just as the
wisdom of Epicurus has no other purpose than to protect man, of all
creatures the one most sensitive to pain, from distress and
anguish--and even pleasure is but the removal of pain--so more
particularly, in putting an end to the fear of death and the craving
after unceasing life, it serves this finite life itself,[85\14] that
is committed to us once and for all and never repeated.[86\14] If a
man has once succeeded in realizing that he will cease to be in the
moment of death's coming, he will neither be oppressed with terror
at the threatened loss of self-consciousness nor will the terrors of
eternity[87\14] or the fabulous monsters of the spirit-world below
the earth[88\14] darken his existence by casting their dark shadow
over all his life.[89\14] He will devote himself to life without
repining, neither fearing death nor seeking it.[90\14]
He alone--the ideal Wise Man of the Epicurean faith--will know how
to live as the true artist of his own life;[91\14] he will not waste
the precious time in vain preparations for the future,[92\14] but
will cram every moment to the full so that his brief span of
existence will have all that a long life could give. Long life, in
fact, even life without an end, would not make him any happier or
any richer. What life has to offer it has already offered--anything
further must only be a repetition of what has gone before: _eadem
sunt omnia semper._[93\14] The Wise Man has no reason even to look
for an eternity of life.[94\14] In his own personality, in this
present "now", he possesses all the conditions necessary to
happiness. The very transience of this supreme happiness to which
mortality can attain makes it seem the more valuable to him. To the
development and the enjoyment of this, the only life that belongs to
him he will devote himself exclusively. In ethical matters, too, the
atomist doctrine holds good. There is no such thing in nature as an
essential community of human beings--still less of humanity--there
are only individuals.[95\14] In associations entered into by free
and unforced choice the individual may attach himself to the
individual as one friend to another; but the political societies
that men have invented and set up among themselves have no
obligations for the Wise Man. He is himself the centre and indeed
the whole circumference of the world surrounding {507} him. State
and society are valuable, and indeed only exist for the protection
of the individual and to make it possible for him under their
enfolding care to develop his own personality in freedom.[96\14] The
individual, on the other hand, does not exist for the state, but for
himself. "It is no longer necessary to save the Hellenes or to win
crowns of victory from them in contests of wisdom."[97\14] Such is
the decision reached with a sigh of relief by a civilization that
has attained the highest point of its development and is now
overcome by a lassitude in which it no longer sets itself new tasks,
but takes its ease as age may be permitted to do. In its lassitude
it no longer hopes, and in all honesty no longer cares, to extend
the period of its existence beyond the limits of this earthly life.
Calm and untroubled it sees this life, dear though it may once have
been, fade away, taking its leave and sinking into nothingness
without a struggle.
NOTES TO CHAPTER XIV
PART I
[1\14: At first the philosophy of Plato's old age lived on in spirit
in the Academy. Just as his pupils carried on his Pythagorean
speculations about numbers, reduced his imaginative suggestions as
to a daimonic nature intermediate between that of God and man to
pedantic system, and elaborated the theological strain in his
thought to a gloomy and burdensome _deisidaimonia_ (witness esp. the
_Epinomis_ of Philippos of Opos and in addition all that we know of
Xenokrates' speculations)--so too they retained and respected for a
time the Platonic doctrine of the soul and the ascetic tendency in
his ethical teaching. For Philippos of Opos the aim of all human
endeavour is a final and blessed emancipation from this world
(which, however, is only possible for a few of those who are, in his
special manner, "wise"--973 C ff., 992 C). He is a mystic for whom
this earth and its life fall away into nothing: all serious interest
is confined to the contemplation of divine things such as are
revealed in mathematics and astronomy. Again, the Platonic doctrine
of the soul, in its mystic and world-renouncing sense, lies at the
bottom of the fabulous narratives of Herakleides Pontikos (in the
~A/baris, Empedo/timos~, etc.). This, too, accounts for the youthful
attempts in this direction of Aristotle himself (in the ~Eu/dêmos~
and probably also in the ~Protreptiko/s~). This side of his doctrine
was as it seems systematized from the standpoint of the latest stage
of Platonism by Xenokrates in particular. It may be merely accident
that we do not hear very reliably of anything indicating an ascetic
tendency or an "other-worldly" effort after **emancipation of the
soul in connexion with Xenokrates. Krantor (in his much-read book
~peri\ pe/nthous~) was already capable of employing the Platonic
doctrine of the soul and the imaginative fancies that could be
attached to it simply as a literary adornment. And before him his
teacher Polemon betrays a turning aside from the true Platonic
mysticism. With Arkesilaos the last vestige of this whole type of
thought disappears completely.]
[2\14: ~toi=s _eleuthe/rois hê/kista_ e/xestin ho/ ti e/tuche
poiei=n, alla pa/nta ê\ ta\ plei=sta te/taktai~, Arist., _Meta._
1075a, 19 (in maxima fortuna minima licentia est, Sall., _C._ 51,
13). Freedom in _this_ sense indeed was a thing of the past.]
[3\14: Not that such hopes or fears were entirely absent. The reader
will remember the case of Kleombrotos of Ambrakia (Call., _Ep._ 25),
who by reading the _Phaedo_ of Plato (and completely
misunderstanding the meaning of the prophet, as not unfrequently
happens) was led to seek an immediate entrance into the life of the
other world by a violent break with this one--and committed suicide.
This is an isolated example of a mood to which Epiktetos bears
witness as common in his own much later time--the desire felt by
many young men of ardent temperament to escape from the distracted
life of humanity and return as quickly as possible to the universal
life of God by the destruction of their own individual existence:
Epict. 1, 9, 11 ff. But in the earlier period such violent
manifestations of other-worldly fanaticism were of rare occurrence.
Hedonism was {509} capable of leading to the same result as we may
see from the ~Apokarterô=n~ of Hegesias the Cyrenaic, called ~ho
peisitha/natos~, whom Cicero mentions together with this same
Kleombrotos: _TD._ i, 83-4.]
[4\14: ~to\ sô=ma/ pôs tê=s psuchê=s he/neken (ge/gonei)~, as ~ho
pri/ôn tê=s pri/seôs he/neka~--and not vice versa: _PA._ 1, 5, 645b,
19.]
[5\14: The ~psuchê/~ is related to the body as ~o/psis~ is to the
eye, i.e. as the effective power residing in the ~o/rganon~ (not
like ~ho/rasis~, the individual act of vision). It is the ~_prô/tê_
entele/cheia~ of its body _de An._ ii, 1, 412a, 27. There is no
~su/nthesis~ of ~sô=ma~ and ~psuchê/~: they are simply "together"
like the wax and the ball formed out of the wax: _Top._ 151a, 20
ff.; _GA._ 729b, 9 ff.; _de An._ 412b, 7.]
[6\14: ~apelthou/sês gou=n (tê=s psuchê=s) ou/keti zô=|o/n estin,
oude\ tô=n mori/ôn oude\n to\ auto\ lei/petai, plê\n tô=| schê/mati
mo/non katha/per ta\ mutheuo/mena lithou=sthai~, _PA._ 641a, 18.]
[7\14: _Meta._ 1026a, 5: ~peri\ psuchê=s eni/as theôrê=sai tou=
phusikou=, ho/sê mê\ a/neu tê=s hulê=s esti/n.--oude\ ga\r pa=sa
psuchê\ phu/sis, alla/ ti mo/rion autê=s~, _PA._ 641b, 9. The
subject of ~to\ kechôrisme/non~ of the soul is studied by ~ho
prô=tos philo/sophos~: _de An._ 403b, 16.]
[8\14: ~le/gô de\ nou=n, hô=| dianoei=tai kai\ hupolamba/nei hê
psuchê/~, _de An._ 429a, 23.]
[9\14: The ~nou=s~ and its ~theôrêtikê\ du/namis e/oike psuchê=s
ge/nos he/teron ei=nai kai\ tou=to mo/non ende/chetai chôri/zesthai,
katha/per to\ aï/dion tou= phthartou=, ta\ de\ loipa\ mo/ria tê=s
psuchê=s ouk e/sti chôrista/ ktl.~, _de An._ 413b, 25.]
[10\14: There can be no doubt that Aristotle's opinion was that
~nou=s~ was uncreated and existed without beginning from eternity:
see Zeller, _Sitzb. Berl. Ak._ 1882, p. 1033 ff.]
[11\14: ~thu/rathen epeise/rchetai~ into the man as he is being
made, _GA._ 736b, 28; cf. ~ho thu/rathen nou=s~, 744b, 21.]
[12\14: ~nou=s~ is ~apathê/s, amigê/s, ou me/miktai tô=|
sô/mati~--it has no physical ~o/rganon~, _de An._ iii, 4. ~oude\n
autou= (tou= nou=) tê=| energei/a| koinônei= sômatikê\ ene/rgeia~,
_GA._ 736b, 28.]
[13\14: ~mo/rion tê=s psychê=s~, _de An._ 429a, 10 ff. ~psuchê\ ouch
ho/lê, all' hê noêtikê/~, 429a, 28. ~hê psuchê\ . . . mê\ pa=sa all'
ho nou=s~, _Meta._ 1070a, 26.]
[14\14: The ~zô=|on~ a ~mikro\s ko/smos~, _Phys._ 252b, 26.]
[15\14: ~nou=s, theio/tero/n ti kai\ apathe/s~, _de An._ 408b,
29.--~to\n nou=n thei=on ei=nai mo/non~, _GA._ 736b, 28 (737a, 10).
~ei/te thei=on ho/n ei/te tô=n en hêmi=n to\ thei/otaton~, _EN._
1177a, 15. ~nou=s~ is ~to\ suggene/staton~ to the gods, 1179a,
26.--~to\ anthrô/pôn ge/nos ê\ mo/non mete/chei tou= thei/ou tô=n
hêmi=n gnôri/môn zô/|ôn ê\ ma/lista pa/ntôn~, _PA._ 656a, 7.]
[16\14: ~e/rgon tou= theiota/tou to\ noei=n kai\ phronei=n~, _PA._
686a, 28.]
[17\14: _Meta._ ~L~ 7, 9.]
[18\14: _EN._ 1178b, 7-22; _Cael._ 292b, 4 ff.]
[19\14: So too ~epikalu/ptetai ho nou=s eni/ote pa/thei ê\ no/sô| ê\
hu/pnô|~, _de An._ 429a, 7.]
[20\14: ~thigga/nein~ is the term often applied to the activity of
~nou=s~, i.e. a simple and indivisible act of apperceiving the
~asu/ntheta~. This act not being composite (of subject and
predicate), like judgment, leaves no room for error: the act simply
occurs or does not occur--~alêthe/s~ or ~pseu=dos~ does not enter
into the question with it. _Meta._ 1051b, 16-26 (~thigei=n~, 24-5),
1027b, 21.]
[21\15: ~ta\ alêthê= kai\ prô=ta kai\ _a/mesa_ kai\ gnôrimô/tera
kai\ pro/tera kai\ ai/tia tou= sumpera/smatos~, _An. Po._ i, 2, This
~ame/sôn epistê/mê anapo/deiktos~ (72b, 19) belong to ~nou=s~. There
is only a ~nou=s~--not an ~epistê/mê~ (as being a ~he/xis
apodeiktikê/~, _EN._ 1139b, 31)--~tô=n _archô=n_, tê=s archê=s tou=
epistêtou=~, _EN._ vi, 6. Thus also ~nou=s~ is ~epistê/mês archê/~,
_An. Po._ 100b, 5-17. ~tô=n akinê/tôn ho/rôn kai\ prô/tôn nou=s
esti\ kai\ ou lo/gos~, _EN._ 1143b, 1 (cf. _MM._ 1197a, 20 ff.).]
{510}
[22\14: ~to\ ku/rion~, _EN._ 1178a, 3, and frequently. ~nou=s dokei=
archei=n kai\ hêgei=sthai~, 1177a, 14. It rules esp. over ~o/rexis~
(as ~hê psuchê/~ does over the ~sô=ma~), _Pol._ 1254b, 5 (cf. _EN._
1102b, 29 ff.).]
[23\14: A man is called ~egkratê/s~ or ~akratê/s, tô=| katei=n to\n
nou=n ê\ mê/; hôs tou/tou heka/stou o/ntos~, _EN._ 1168b, 35.
~do/xeie d' a/n kai\ ei=nai he/kastos tou=to (nou=s)~, 1178a, 2.
~tô=| anthrô/pô| dê\ (kra/tiston kai\ ê/diston) ho kata\ to\n nou=n
bi/os, ei/per tou=to ma/lista a/nthrôpos~ (here only in so far as
the possession of ~nou=s~ distinguishes men in general from the
other ~zô=|a~), 1178a, 6.]
[24\14: Cicero makes a distinction of this kind between _ratio_ and
_animus_. _Off._ i, 107 (after Panaetius): intellegendum est, duabus
quasi nos a natura indutos esse personis; quarum una communis est ex
eo quod omnes participes sumus rationis . . . ; altera autem quae
proprie singulis est tributa.]
[25\14: ~ha/panta ta\ gino/mena kai\ phtheiro/mena phai/netai~,
_Cael._ 279b, 20. ~to\ geno/menon ana/gkê te/los labei=n~, _Ph._
203b, 8. But ~ha/pan to\ aei\ o/n haplôs a/phtharton. homoi/ôs de\
kai\ age/nêton~, _Cael._ 281b, 25. ~ei to\ age/nêton a/phtharton
kai\ to\ a/phtharton age/nêton, ana/gkê kai\ to\ "aï/dion"
hekate/rô| akolouthei=n, kai\ ei/te ti age/nêton, aï/dion, ei/te ti
a/phtharton, aï/dion ktl.~, _Cael._ 282a, 31 ff. Thus too ~nou=s~
(~apathê/s~) as uncreated is everlasting and imperishable (see
Zeller, _Sitzb. B. Ak._ 1882, p. 1044 f.). It belongs to the
imperishable ~ousi/ai~, which as such are ~ti/miai kai\ _thei=ai_~,
_PA._ 644b, 22 ff.]
[26\14: ~ho nou=s hupome/nei~ at the separation, _Meta._ 1070a,
25-6. More strictly this applies to the ~nou=s apathê/s
(poiêtiko/s)~. While the ~nou=s pathêtiko/s~ (whose relation to the
~nou=s poiêtiko/s~ remains most obscure) is ~phtharto/s~, we hear of
the ~nou=s poiêtiko/s~ that it is ~_chôristhei\s_ mo/non tou=to
ho/per eti/, kai\ tou=to mo/non atha/naton kai\ aï/dion~, _de An._
430a, 10-25.]
[27\14: _de An._ 408b, 18 ff.: ~nou=s ou phthei/retai~, nor ~hupo\
tê=s en tô=| gê/ra| amaurô/seôs . . . to\ noei=n kai\ to\ theôrei=n
marai/netai~ (in old age) ~a/llou tinos e/sô phtheirome/nou~ (?
nothing perishes within ~to\ noei=n~--read ~en hô=|~ as in l. 23 and
understand: ~a/llou tino\s en hô=| to\ noei=n = ho nou=s, e/nesti~,
i.e. the whole living man), ~auto\ de\ apathe/s estin~ (just as
~nou=s~ is always ~analloi/ôton~, even its ~no/êsis~ is no
~ki/nêsis~, and the ~lê=psis tê=s epistê/mês~ makes no ~alloi/ôsis~
for it: _de An._ 407a, 32; _Ph._ 247a, 28; b, 1 ff.; 20 ff.), ~to\
de\ dianoei=sthai~ (thinking and judging) ~kai\ philei=n ê\ misei=n
ouk e/stin ekei/nou pa/thê, alla\ tou=de tou= e/chontos ekei=no,
hê=| ekei=no e/chei. dio\ kai\ tou/tou phtheirome/nou ou/te
mnêmoneu/ei ou/te philei=, ou ga\r ekei/nou ê=n, alla\ tou= koi/nou~
(that which had once been associated with the ~nou=s~), ~ho\
apo/lôlen; ho de\ nou=s i/sôs theio/tero/n ti kai\ apathe/s estin~.
In its separate existence ~nou=s~ has no memory--this at least is
meant by ~ou mnêmoneu/omen~, _de An._ 430a, 23, however we may be
inclined to interpret the rest of the sentence.]
[28\14: Particularly in the ~Eu/dêmos~ (_frr._ 31-40 [37-44]),
probably also in the ~Protreptiko/s~.]
[29\14: For this must be the meaning of _fr._ 36 = 44 (~Eu/d.~)--the
~dai/môn~ is the soul itself; cf. 35 [41].]
[30\14: _de An._ 407b, 13-26; 414a, 19-27.--And yet it must be
admitted that the ~nou=s~ of Aristotle is itself a ~tucho/n~ within
another ~tucho/n~--not indeed as a separate entity with any
qualities set in a fortuitous vessel of perhaps discordant qualities
that do not fit it (which acc. to the ~Puthago/reios mu=thos~ was
true of the ~psuchê/~ in the ~sô=ma~)--but at any rate set within an
animated individual with quite definite qualities as a stranger,
itself devoid of all definite quality and therefore not capable of
having a character specially fitting that individual in which it is
placed. Thus, after all, the Aristotelian ~mu=thos~ about the
~nou=s~ betrays its origin from the ~mu=thoi~ of old theology.]
{511}
[31\14: It is only as an argumentum ad hominem that the view is
suggested on one occasion, that ~be/ltion tô=| nô=| mê\ meta\
sô/matos ei=nai (katha/per ei/ôthe/ te le/gesthai kai\ polloi=s
sundokei=)~, _de An._ 407b, 4.]
[32\14: _EN._ x, 7-9.--~dokei= hê philosophi/a thaumasta\s hêdona\s
e/chein kathario/têti kai\ tô=| bebai/ô|. eu/logon de\ _toi=s
eido/si_ tô=n zêtou/ntôn hêdi/ô tê\n diagôgê\n ei=nai~, 1177a, 26.
The ~sopho/s~ requires no ~su/nergoi~ (as the ~sô/phrôn~ and the
~andrei=os~ do, and is ~autarke/statos~ in himself. The activity of
~nou=s~ is the most valuable as being ~theôrêtikê/~ and because
~par' hautê\n oude/nos ephi/etai te/lous~. A sufficiently long life
of the theoretic activity of ~nou=s~ is ~telei/a eudaimoni/a
anthrô/pou~--indeed, this is no longer an ~anthrô/pinos bi/os~, but
rather ~krei/ttôn ê\ kat' a/nthrôpon~--a ~thei=os bi/os~ as ~nou=s
thei=o/n ti en anthrô/pô| hupa/rchei~. Therefore man must not
~anthrô/pina phronei=n~ but ~eph' ho/son ende/chetai athanati/zein~
(be immortal already in this life) ~kai\ pa/nta poiei=n pro\s to\
zê=n kata\ to\ kra/tiston tô=n en hautô=|~ (1177b, 31 ff.). This
~telei/a eudaimoni/a~, as a ~theôrêtikê\ ene/rgeia~, brings the
thinkers near to the _gods_ whose life does not consist in
~pra/ttein~ (not even virtuous) or ~poiei=n~ but in pure ~theôri/a~,
and this can be so with the life of man (alone among the ~zô=|a~)
~eph' ho/son homoi/ôma/ ti tê=s toiau/tês (theôrêtikê=s) energei/as
hupa/rchei~ (1178b, 7-32). Nowhere do we meet with so much as the
shadow of an idea that the ~eudaimoni/a~ of the ~theôrêtiko\s bi/os~
can only become ~telei/a~ in "another" world, or is conceivable as
existing elsewhere than in the life on earth. The only condition for
~telei/a eudaimoni/a~ that is made is ~mê=kos bi/ou te/leion~
(1177b, 25)--nothing lying outside or beyond this life. The
~theôrêtiko\s bi/os~ has its complete and final development here
upon earth.--~te/leios bi/os~ is mentioned as necessary for the
obtaining of ~eudaimoni/a~, _EN._ 1100a, 5; 1101a, 16. But
~eudaimoni/a~ is completely confined within the limits of earthly
life: to call a dead man ~eudai/mona~ would be ~pantelô=s a/topon~,
for he lacks the ~ene/rgeia~ which is the essence of
~eudaimoni/a~--only a mere shadow of sensation can belong to the
~kekmêko/tes~ (almost the Homeric conception) 1100a, 11-29; 1101a,
22-b, 9.--Since it is impossible for the individual to enjoy an
unending permanence and share in ~to\ aei\ kai\ thei=on~, it follows
that the continuation of the individual after death consists only in
the continuance of the ~ei/dos~--not of the ~auto/~ (which perishes)
but only of the ~hoi=on auto/~ which persists in the series of
creatures propagated on earth: _de An._ 415a, 28-b, 7; _GA._ 731a,
24-b, 1. (Borrowed from the observations of Plato, _Smp._ 206 C-207
A; cf. also _Lg._ 721 C, 773 E; Philo, _Incor. Mund._ 8, ii, p. 495
M., after Kritolaos.) It was much easier for Aristotle to take this
conception seriously than it was for Plato with his particular
outlook: only for the passing requirements of his dialogue does
Plato adopt the Herakleitean view and expand it: see above, chap.
xi, n. 16.]
[33\14: ~oi=mai de\ tou= ginô/skein ta\ o/nta kai\ phronei=n
aphairethe/ntos _ou bi/on alla\ chro/non_ ei=nai tê\n athanasi/an~,
Plu., _Is. et Os._ i, fin., p. 351 E. Origen (_Cels._ iii, 80, p.
359 Lom.) draws a clear distinction between the ~athanasi/a tê=s
psuchê=s~ of Platonic doctrine and the Stoic ~epidiamonê\ tê=s
psuchê=s~ on the one hand--and this Aristotelian doctrine of the
~tou= nou= athanasi/a: hoi peisthe/ntes peri\ tou= thu/rathen nou=
hôs _athana/tou_ (thana/tou~ Edd.) ~_kai\ mo/nou_ (kainou=~ Edd.)
~diagôgê\n (= bi/on) e/xontos~ (--this is how the passage should be
read).]
[34\14: Theophrastos discussed (by the method of ~apori/ai~
fashionable with the school) the obscurities and difficulties
inherent in the doctrine of ~nou=s~, particularly of the
reduplicated ~nou=s~, the ~poiêtiko/s~ and the ~pathêtiko/s~. True
to his character, however, he adheres to the fixed dogma of his
school of the ~nou=s chôristo/s~ which ~e/xôthen ô\n kai\ hô/sper
{512} epi/thetos~ is ~ho/môs su/mphutos~ with man and being
~age/nnêtos~ is also ~a/phthartos~: _Frag._ 53b, p. 226 ff.; 53, p.
176 Wim. (~theôri/a~ belongs to ~nou=s, thigo/nti kai\ hoi=on
hapsame/nô|~, and is therefore without ~apa/tê~, _fr._ 12, § 26.
The ~nou=s~ is ~krei=tto/n ti me/ros [tê=s psychê=s] kai\
theio/teron~, _fr._ 53. To the ~nou=s~ and its ~theôri/a~ we must
suppose the ~kata\ du/namin homoiou=sthai theô=|~ to refer--for this
is the teaching of Thphr. also: Jul., _Or._ vi, p. 185 A.) Nowhere
is there any indication that for him the immortality of ~nou=s~ had
the slightest importance for this life and its conduct. Nor has it
any in the ethical doctrine of the very theologically inclined
Eudemos. Here the aim of life--the ~aretê\ te/leios~ which is
~kalolagathi/a~--is said to be ~hê tou= theou= theôri/a~ which is
carried on by the ~nou=s, to\ en êmi=n thei=on~, 1248a, 27; in this
process it is best ~hê/kista aistha/nesthai tou= a/llou me/rous tê=s
psuchê=s~, 1249b, 22. For the sake of ~to\ gnôri/zein~ man wishes
~zê=n aei\~, 1245a, 9--but upon earth and in the body: there is no
thought of the other world. (This would have been quite natural and
to be expected of this semi-theological thinker who, e.g. speaks
quite seriously of the separability of ~nou=s~ from the
~lo/gos~--the ~a/llo me/ros tê=s psuchê=s~--in bodily life and of
its higher intuition in _enthousiasmos_ and veracious dreaming:
1214a, 23; 1225a, 28; 1248a, 40.)--To this first generation of
Peripatetics belong also Aristoxenos and Dikaiarchos who did not
recognize _any_ peculiar substance of the "soul" apart from the
"harmony" brought about by the mixture of bodily material. Dik.
~anê/|rêke tê\n ho/lên hupo/stasin tê=s psuchê=s~: Atticus ap. Eus.,
_PE._ xv, 810 A. Aristox. and Dik. nullum omnino animum esse
dixerunt Cic. _TD._ 1, 51: 21; 41, etc.; Dik. (in the ~Lesbiakoi\
lo/goi~) expressly controverted the doctrine of immortality, _TD._
i, 77. (It remains very remarkable that Dik. who naturally knew
nothing of a _separabilis animus_, _TD._ i, 21, nevertheless,
believed not merely in _mantic_ dreams--that would be just
intelligible, ~e/chei ga/r tina lo/gon~, Arist., _P. Nat._ 462b
ff.--but also in the prophetic power of ~enthousiasmo/s~, Cic.,
_Div._ i, 5; 113; _Dox._ 416a, which invariably presupposes the
dogma of a special substance of the "soul" and its separability from
the body.)--Straton "the naturalist" (_d._ 270), for whom the soul
is an undivided force, inseparable from the body and the
~aisthê/seis~, gave up completely the belief in the ~nou=s
chôristo/s~ of Aristotle: he cannot possibly have held any doctrine
of immortality in any form or under any limitations.--Then follows
the period of pure scholarship when the Peripatetic school almost
gave up philosophy. With the return to the study of the master's
writings (from the time of Aristonikos) they gained a new lease of
life. The problems of the parts of the soul, the relation of ~nou=s~
to the soul (and to the ~nou=s pathêtiko/s~) were discussed once
more. It became more and more common, however, to set aside the
~nou=s thu/rathen epeisiô/n~ (cf. the definition of the soul given
by Andronikos ap. Galen ~p. t. tê=s psuchê=s êthô=n~, iv, 782 f.,
K.; Themist., _de An._ ii, 56, 11; 59, 6 Sp.). This meant the denial
of immortality (which belonged to ~nou=s~ only): e.g. by Boëthos:
Simp., _de An._ p. 247, 24 ff. Hayd. [_Sto. Vet._ iii, 267 Arn.]. A
different view again, and one which even went beyond Aristotle, was
held by Kratippos, the contemporary of Boëthos: Cic., _Div._ i, 70;
cf. 5; 113. Alexander of Aphrodisias the great ~exêgêtê/s~
absolutely banished the ~nou=s poiêtiko/s~ from the human soul.
(This is the divine ~nou=s~, which is perpetually ~nou=s~ and
~noêto\n energei/a|~, and that, too, already ~pro\ tou= noei=sthai~
by the ~huliko\s nou=s~ of man. It enters into the latter
~thu/rathen~--though not locally, for it is incapable of change of
place, p. 113, 18 f.--with the individual act of ~noei=n~ by the
~nou=s huliko/s~, but it never becomes a ~mo/rion kai\ du/nami/s tis
tê=s {513} hêmete/ras psuchê=s~: Alex. _de An._, p. 107-9; p. 90
Br.). For him ~nou=s~ is ~chôristo/s~ and ~atha/natos, apathê/s~,
etc., whereas the human soul exactly like the ~ei=dos~ of its
~sô=ma~ from which it is ~achôristo/s~ perishes at death together
with its ~nou=s huliko/s~, completely: ~sumphthei/retai tô=|
sô/mati~, _de An._, p. 21, 22 f.; p. 90, 16 f. The individual soul
thus perishes: the imperishable ~nou=s~ had not communicated itself
to the individual.--The indestructibility of the individual ~nou=s~
of man (and this was indubitably what Aristotle himself taught), a
doctrine derived not from experience but from pure logical
inference, had in reality no serious significance for the general
teaching of the Peripatetics so long as they preserved their
independence. Finally, indeed, they too were swallowed up in the
ferment of Neoplatonism.]
[35\14: ~he/xis, phu/sis, a/logos psuchê/, psuchê\ lo/gon e/chousa
kai\ dia/noian~, Plu., _Virt. Mor._ 451 BC and A. Through all these
and all things in which these are--~diê/kei ho nou=s~, D.L. vii, 138
f. [ii, p. 192 Arn.].]
[36\14: Our soul an ~apo/spasma~ of the ~e/mpsuchos ko/smos~, D.L.
vii, 143 [ii, 191 Arn.]. We often find the soul of man called an
~apo/spasma tou= theou= (Dio/s), thei/a apo/moira, apo/rroia~ (see
Gataker on M. Ant., pp. 48, 211; Ed. 1652)--and often even ~theo/s~
(see Bonhöffer, _Epiktet u. d. Stoa_, p. 76 f.).]
[37\14: ~(hê psuchê\) araio/teron pneu=ma tê=s phu/seôs kai\
leptome/resteron . . . ~ Chrysipp. ap. Plu., _Stoic. Rep._ 41, p.
1052 F [ii, 222 Arn.]. "Nature" is ~pneu=ma~ that has become moist,
soul the same ~pneu=ma~ which has remained dry (Galen, iv, 783 f. K.
[p. 218 Arn.]).]
[38\14: The ~bre/phos~ is created as a ~phu/ton~, and only
afterwards becomes a ~zô=|on~ by ~peri/psuxis~ (derivation of
~psuchê/~ hence!). Chrysipp. ap. Plu., _Stoic. Rep._ 1052 F [p. 222
Arn.]. Thus comes ~ek phu/seôs psuchê/~, Plu., _Prim. Frig._ ii, p.
946 C.]
[39\14: It would almost be possible to employ the semi-Stoic
language of Philo to describe the soul as conceived by this Stoic
Pantheism: ~tê=s thei/as psuchê=s apo/spasma _ou diaireto/n_
(te/mnetai ga\r oude\n tou= thei/ou kat' apa/rtêsin, alla\ mo/non
ektei/netai)~, _Q. Det. Pot. Insid._, 24, i, p. 209 M. But in
orthodox Stoic doctrine the idea prevails that the individual
~apospa/smata~ are completely detached from the universal
~thei=on~--but at the same time without denial of ultimate connexion
with the "All" and the "One".]
[40\14: Acc. to the older Stoical doctrine as systematized by
Chrysippos the soul is absolutely simple and unified, having sprung
from the universal Reason of God which contains no ~a/logon~. Its
impulses (~hormai/~) must on this view be rational just as much as
its willed decisions (~kri/seis~): it is affected from without by
~phu/sis~, which, being itself a development of the highest reason,
God, can only be good and rational. It is quite impossible to
conceive how, on the principles of the older Stoicism, erroneous
judgment or excessive and evil impulses could arise. ~hê tê=s
kaki/as ge/nesis~ is rendered unintelligible as Poseidonios
maintains in opposition to the subtle observations of Chrysipp. on
this head (see Schmekel, _Phil. d. mittl. Stoa_, p. 327 ff.).]
[41\14: ~akolou/thôs tê=| phu/sei zê=n~ (but our ~phu/seis~ are
~me/rê tê=s tou= ho/lou~), i.e. in harmony with the ~koi/nos no/mos
ho/sper esti\n ho ortho\s lo/gos ho dia\ pa/ntôn ercho/menos, ho
auto\s ô\n tô=| Dii/, kathêgemo/ni tou/tô| tê=s tô=n ho/lôn
dioikê/seôs o/nti~, Chrysipp. ap. D.L. vii, 87-8 [iii, 3 Arn.]. This
obedience to the rational order and governance of the world--the
_deum sequere_, Sen., _VB._ 15, 5; _Ep._ 16, 5; ~he/pesthai
theoi=s~, Epict. i, 12, 5, etc.--is more often regarded as a passive
attitude of self-abandonment adopted consciously and with
~sugkata/thesis: chrô= moi loipo\n eis ho\ a\n the/lê|s.
homognômonô= soi, so/s eimi ktl.~, Epict. ii, 16, 42. ~the/le
gi/nesthai ta\ {514} gino/mena hôs gi/netai, kai\ euroê/seis~ (this
sounds very like "make God's will your own will"), _Ench._ 8. Much
the same idea occurs already in the lines of Kleanthes ~a/gou de/ m'
hô= Zeu= kai\ su/ g' hê Peprôme/nê ktl.~ [i, 118 Arn.]. But such
"affirmation of the universe", understood in the full pantheistic
sense (cf. Kleanthes ~tê\n koinê\n mo/nên ekde/chetai phu/sin hê=|
dei= akolouthei=n, ouke/ti de\ kai\ tê\n epi\ me/rous~, D.L. vii, 89
[i, 126 Arn.]), could not lead to an ethical teaching of active
character and concrete substance.]
[42\14: The ~sopho/s~ is ~eleu/theros; ei=nai ga\r tê\n eleutheri/an
exousi/an autopragi/as~, D.L. vii, 121. Laws and constitutions do
not apply to him: Cic., _Ac. Pri._ ii, 136.]
[43\14: Enemies and strangers are ~mê\ spoudai=oi~ to one
another--~poli=tai kai\ phi/loi kai\ oikei=oi hoi spoudai=oi
mo/non~. Zeno, ~en tê=| Politei/a|~, ap. D.L. vii, 32-3 [i, 54
Arn.].]
[44\14: ~ho par' heka/stô| dai/môn~ which one must keep in harmony
~pro\s tê\n tou= tô=n ho/lôn dioikêtou= bou/lêsin~, D.L. vii, 88,
after Chrysipp. [iii, 4 Arn.]. In the later Stoic literature, the
only part of it which has come down to us, we often hear of this
~dai/môn~ of the individual--sacer intra nos spiritus (Sen., Epict.,
M. Ant.: see Bonhöffer, _Epiktet_, 83). It is generally spoken of in
language that seems to regard it as something _separable_ from the
man or his soul, including the ~hêgemoniko/n~; Zeus ~pare/stêsen
_epi/tropon_ heka/stô| to\n heka/stou dai/mona kai\ pare/dôke
phula/ssein auto\n autô=| ktl.~, Epict. i, 14, 12. ~ho dai/môn o\n
heka/stô| _prosta/tên_ kai\ hêgemo/na ho Zeu\s e/dôken~, M. Ant. v,
27. ~ana/krinon to\ daimo/nion~, Epict. iii, 22, 53 (one can ask
questions of it, as Sokrates did of his ~daimo/nion~, as something
other and different from oneself). This ~dai/môn~ then does not seem
to be simply identifiable with the "soul" of man like the daimon in
man of which the _theologians_ speak. It is conceived and spoken of
in language that suggests rather the "protecting spirit" of a man as
known to popular belief (cf. now Usener, _Götternamen_, 294 ff.).
~ha/panti dai/môn andri\ sumpari/statai euthu\s genome/nô|
mustagôgo\s tou= bi/ou~, Menand. 550 K. (where the idea of _two_
daimonic partners in the life of man is already rejected: Eukleides
Socr. had spoken of such, cf. Censor., _DN._ iii, 3, and in a
different way again Phocyl., _fr._ 15). Plato himself speaks (with a
~le/getai~) of the ~dai/môn ho/sper zô=nta eilê/chei~ (and guides
the departed soul into Hades): _Phd._ 107 D. The idea, however, must
have been much older: it appears fairly clearly expressed in
Pindar's words, _O._ xiii, 28 ~(Zeu= pa/têr), Xeno/phôntos eu/thune
dai/monos ou=ron~, where the transition to the meaning "fate" for
the word ~dai/môn~ has not yet been completed. Later (with the
Tragedians and other poets) this use became very common, but even
then still presupposes the belief in such personal daimonic partners
in the life of man: the use would have been quite impossible
otherwise. (~dai/môn = po/tmos~, Pi., _P._ v, 121 f., and already in
Thgn. 161, 163. When Herakleitos says ~ê=thos anthrô/pô| dai/môn~,
_fr._ 121 By., 119 D. he uses ~dai/môn~ in the sense of fortune in
life. The word means both ~ê=thos~ and condition of life at the same
time in Pl., _Rp._ 617 E, ~ouch huma=s dai/môn lê/xetai, all'
humei=s dai/mona hairê/sesthe~, where the derivation of the
metaphorical use of the word ~dai/môn~ from a belief in a special
daimon belonging to the individual man can still be seen plainly.
See also [Lys.] _Epit._ (2), 78. But the metaphorical use comes as
early as ~Th~ 166, ~pa/ros toi dai/mona dô/sô = po/tmon
ephê/sô~.)--The personal existence of the daimon is still far
removed from all danger of such abstraction in a very remarkable
case: in Halikarnassos Poseidonios and his ~e/kgonoi~ decide that on
the first day of the month they will offer ~Dai/moni agathô=|
Poseidôni/ou . . . krio/n~ (_Gr. Ins. in Br. Mus._ {515} iv, 1, n.
896, p. 70, l. 35. The inscr. seems to date from the third century
B.C.). Here then offering is made to the ~agatho\s dai/môn~ (see
above, chap. v, n. 133) of the _living_, just as offering was made
on birthdays, and at other times also, to the _genius_ of Romans;
~ag. d.~ is here clearly equivalent to _genius_. Apollo whose advice
had been sought at his oracle had expressly enjoined (ib., l. 9) ~.
. . tima=n kai\ hila/skesthai kai\ agatho\n dai/mona Poseidôni/ou
kai\ Go/rgidos~ (the latter, P.'s mother, seems to have been already
dead: l. 34).--This special ~dai/môn~ attached to individuals with
whom it can be contrasted (as Brutus can be with his ~dai/môn
kako/s~: Plu., _Brut._ 36) is distinct from the individual's
~psuchê/~, though it is natural to suppose that it may have arisen
from the projection of the ~psuchê/~--conceived as very
independent--outside the man himself, in which it would again
resemble the Roman _genius_. (The daimonic ~phu/lakes~ of Hesiod
[cf. above, p. 67 ff.], belong to quite a different range of ideas.)
At any rate the Stoics had this analogous popular conception in mind
when they spoke of the ~par' heka/stô| dai/môn~ as something
different from the man himself and his ~hêgemoniko/n~. They use it,
however, only as a figure of speech. The ~dai/môn~ of the individual
really means for them "the original, ideal personality as contrasted
with the empirical personality" (as Bonhöffer very rightly puts it:
_Epikt._ 84)--the character the man already _is_ ideally but must
_become_ actually (~ge/noi' hoi=os essi/ . . .~). Thus the ~dai/môn~
is distinct from the ~psuchê/ (dia/noia)~ and yet identical with it.
It is a semi-allegorical play upon the idea of the ~dai/môn~ as
individual genius and at the same time as crown or summit of the
human personality--just as Plato had used the word already
incidentally, _Tim._ 90 A. Finally--for the Stoics did not seriously
wish to establish the existence of an independent protecting deity
that enters man from without and rules over him--the ~hêgemoniko/n~
is the same as the ~dai/môn~. Thus in M. Ant. iv, 27, the ~dai/môn~
is completely identical with the ~apo/spasma Dio/s~, and the
~heka/stou nou=s kai\ lo/gos~ (cf. also iii, 3 fin.; ii, 13; 17;
iii, 7, ~to\n heautou= nou=n kai\ dai/mona~). The fact, however,
that this ~apo/spasma tou= theou=~ can be called a ~dai/môn~ bears
witness to a tendency to conceive the soul-spirit as something
independent and more cut off and separated from the common and
original source of divinity than was possible for Stoic pantheism of
the stricter sort (to which the terms ~apo/spasma, apo/rroia tou=
theou=~ were more apt). A decided approximation was thus made to the
theological idea of the "soul" as an individual daimon which
persists in its separate existence. To this view Poseidonios went
over completely: he regards the individual ~dai/môn~ that lives in
man as ~suggenê\s ô\n tô=| to\n ho/lon ko/smon dioikou=nti~ (Pos.
ap. Gal. v, 469), and no longer as the dependent ~apo/spasma~ of the
latter, but as one of many independent and individually
characterized spirits that have lived from all time in the air and
enter into man at birth. (See Bonhöffer, _Epikt._ 79-80, and also
Schmekel, _Phil. d. mittl. Stoa_, 249 ff., 256.)]
[45\14: ~ho tha/natos esti chôrismo\s psuchê=s apo\ sô/matos . . .~
Chrysipp. ap. Nemes., _NH._, p. 81 Matth.; Zeno and Chrysipp. ap.
Tert., _An._ 5 [ii, 219 Arn.].]
[46\14: Everything comes into being and perishes, including the
gods, ~ho de\ Zeu\s mo/nos aï/dio/s esti~, Chrysipp. ap. Plu., _Sto.
Rep._ 38, p. 1052 A; _Comm. Not._ 31, p. 1075 A ff. [ii, 309
Arn.].--~epidiamonê\~ but not ~athanasi/a~ of the human soul [ib.,
223].]
[47\14: ~_Klea/nthês_ me\n ou=n pa/sas (ta\s psucha\s) epidiame/nein
(le/gei) me/chri tê=s ekpurô/seôs, _Chru/sippos_ de\ ta\s tô=n
sophô=n mo/non~, D.L. vii, 157. {516} A statement often repeated
without mention of the two authorities: Arius Did. ap. Eus., _PE._
15, 20, 6, p. 822 **A-C (the ~psuchai\ tô=n aphro/nôn kai\ alo/gôn
**zô/|ôn~ perish immediately with the death of the body, C) and
others [ii, 223 Arn.]. Chrysippos' doctrine comes also in Tac.,
_Agr._ 46, si ut sapientibus placet non cum corpore extinguuntur
magnae animae (~hai mega/lai psuchai/~, Plu., _Def. Or._ 18, p. 419
f.); cf. omnium quidem animos immortalis esse sed fortium bonorumque
divinos, Cic., _Leg._ ii, 27, not quite accurately put.]
[48\14: The ~_astheneste/ra_ psuchê/ (hau/tê de/ esti tô=n
apaideu/tôn)~ perishes sooner, ~hê de\ _ischurote/ra_, hoi=a esti\
peri\ tou\s sophou/s~ remains ~me/chri tê=s ekpurô/seôs~, [Plu.]
_Plac. Phil._, 4, 7 ap. _Dox._ 393a.]
[49\14: The predominance of the materialistic point of view is
remarkable in those _Stoici_ who acc. to Seneca, _Ep._ 57, 7,
existimant animum hominis magno pondere extriti permanere non posse
et statim spargi, quia non fuerit illi exitus liber (which reminds
us of the popular belief that the soul of one who has died in a high
wind ~euthu\s diapephu/sêtai kai\ apo/lôlen~, Pl., _Phd._ 70 A, 80
D, see above, chap. xiii, n. 5).]
[50\14: ~ou ta\ sô/mata ta\s psucha\s sune/chei all' hai psuchai\
ta\ sô/mata, hô/sper kai\ hê ko/lla kai\ heautê\n kai\ ta\ ekto\s
kratei=~, Poseidon. ap. Ach. Tat., _Isag._, p. 133 E Petav.,
borrowed from Arist. (_de An._ 1, 5, 411b, 7), but a thoroughly
Stoic idea as contrasted with Epicurean doctrine (see Heinze,
_Xenokrates_, 100 f.).]
[51\14: S.E., _M._ ix, 71-3. The naive but quite plain statements go
back to Poseid. as has often been pointed out (e.g. by Corssen, _de
Pos. Rhod._, p. 45, 1878, and others). So, too, do the similar
remarks in Cic., _TD._ i, 42. Poseid. does not appear to be uttering
heterodox opinions in this case, so far as we can see.]
[52\14: ~--kai\ ga\r oude\ ta\s psucha\s e/nestin huponoê=sai ka/tô
pherome/nas. leptomerei=s ga\r ou=sai eis tou\s a/nô ma=llon to/pous
kouphophorou=sin~, S.E., _M._ ix, 71. This physical reason was in
itself enough to make it impossible for the Stoics to believe in a
subterranean region of the souls: ~oudei\s Ha/idês, oud' Ache/rôn,
oude\ Kôkuto/s ktl.~, Epict. iii, 13, 15. It is the regular Stoic
doctrine: see Bonhöffer, _Epikt._ 56 f.; cf. Cic., _TD._ i, 36 f.;
Sen., _C. ad Marc._ 19, 4. When Stoics speak occasionally of
_inferi_ or ~ha/|dês~ as the abode of the souls, they are only using
metaphorical language. When the word is not a mere conventionalism,
they mean the regions nearer the earth, the cloud regions and lower
levels of the air, ~ho pachumere/statos kai\ prosgeio/tatos aê/r~
(Corn., _ND._ 5, p. 4, 17 L; other exx. in Heinze, _Xenokr._ 147,
2). Here the "unwise" souls (the moister, less buoyant ones) are
supposed to remain after death (_circa terram_ as Tert., _An._ 54
says, alluding to Stoic doctrine--and this is obviously where the
_inferi_ mentioned at the end of the same chapter are situated).
This ~aê/r~ (distinguished from the higher regions of the air) =
~ha/|dês~, must have been what Zeno referred to when he spoke of the
_loca tenebrosa_ where the souls of the unwise have to expiate their
folly (quoted and varied by Lact., _Inst._ 7, 7, 13, in a Platonic
sense [i, 40 Arn.]).]
[53\14: Abode of the souls in the air: S. E., _M._ ix, 73; Cic.,
_TD._ i, 42-3, both probably after Poseid. Cf. sapientum animas in
supernis mansionibus **collocant (Stoici), Tert., _An._, 54.
Generally: ~eis to\n ae/ra methi/stasthai~ said of the departed
souls, M. Ant. iv, 21. ~en tô=| perie/chonti . . . diame/nein ta\s
tô=n apothano/ntôn psucha/s~, Ar. Did. ap. Eus., _PE._ xv, 822 A
[ii, 225 Arn.]. (Gradual ascent to ever higher regions, Sen., _C. ad
Marc._ 25, 1--hardly orthodox Stoic doctrine.--The conception may
possibly belong to the older Stoicism, and may underlie the opinion
of Chrysipp.: ~sphairoeidei=s~--as fiery ~mete/ôra--ta\s psucha\s
{517} meta\ tha/naton gi/nesthai~, ap. Eust., _Il._ 1288, 10 f. [224
Arn.]. Poseid. seems to have worked it out further, probably making
use also of Pythagorean and Platonic fancies to which he was
distinctly inclined. The Pythagoreans had fancies about the souls
hovering in the air (see above, chap. xi, n. 35), of the sun and
moon as places where the souls lived (chap. x, n. 76). Acc. to
Poseid. the souls inhabit ~to\n hupo\ selê/nên to/pon~ (S.E., _M._
ix, 73) as suitable for divine but not perfect creatures. It is the
souls who are meant when people speak of ~dai/mones~ (S.E. § 74), or
~hê/rôes~ (Stoic in this use D.L. vi, 151 [ii, 320 Arn.]); cf.
_heroes et lares et genii_, Varro using Stoic language (ap. Aug.,
_CD._ vii, 6, p. 282, 14 Domb.). The whole air is full of them: Pos.
ap. Cic., _Div._ i, 64. Something very similar given as Pythag.
doctrine by Alex. Polyh. ap. D.L. viii, 32; see above, chap. xi, n.
35. But Poseidonios (esp. if he is really the source of the
Ciceronian _Somn. Scip._) seems to have emulated more particularly
the imaginative efforts of Herakleides Pont. and his story of
Empedotimos' vision (see above, chap. ix, n. 111). Herakl.
contributed largely to popularizing the idea that the souls inhabit
the air and giving it shape; the interest with which his fancies
were studied is shown by the quotations from his book so common from
Varro down to Proclus and Damascius. He must have been led to make
the souls, on being freed from the body, float upwards (and occupy
the stars or the moon--which are inhabitable heavenly bodies: _Dox._
343, 7 ff.; 356a, 10) by the view--just as the Stoics after him
were--that the soul is an ~aithe/rion sô=ma~
(Philop.)--~phôtoeidê/s~, a _lumen_, Tert., _An._ 9. In this he is
following an idea that had been common in the fifth century (held by
Xenophanes, Epicharmos, Eurip.: see above, p. 436 ff.), and had even
attained popular vogue. This idea from the very first led to the
conclusion that the soul, when ready for it, enters ~eis to\n
ho/moion aithe/ra~ and ascends to the upper regions (of the aether).
Herakleides carried this idea further and embellished it with
philosophical and astronomical fancies. (On another occasion he
seems to have denied substance and consistency to individual
"souls": Plu., _Mor._ v, p. 699 Wytt.--a view to which his doctrine
of the ~o/gkoi~ might easily have led him.) Poseidonios then took up
this idea of Herakl. In this way, or at least not uninfluenced by
this semi-philosophical literature, the belief in the abode of the
"souls" in the aether attained the popularity that grave
inscriptions witness for it (see below, ch. xiv, 2, n. 135).]
[54\14: Cicero, following Poseid., imagines a blissful observation
of the earth and the stars by the souls in the air: _TD._ i, 44-7
(cf. Sen., _C. ad Marc._ 25, 1-2); and similarly in _Somn. Sci._; in
both cases the idea certainly comes from Herakl. Pont.]
[55\14: ~apo/spasma tou= theou=~ [i, 36 Arn.].]
[56\14: A frequently repeated Stoic dogma (stated with particular
fullness by Senec., _Ep._ 93): see Gataker on M. Ant. (iii, 7), p.
108-9. The happiness of the (Stoic) wise man does not require
~mê=kos bi/ou te/leiou~ as Aristot. had maintained (see above, n.
32). In this point Stoic and Epicurean doctrine fully agreed: magni
artificis est clusisse totum in exiguo: tantum sapienti sua, quantum
deo omnis aetas patet (Sen., _Ep._ 53, 11, and see below, n. 92).]
[57\14: Acc. to Panaitios there are _duo genera_ in the soul which
he calls _inflammata anima_ (Cic., _TD._ i, 42). It is at any rate
very probable that Panaitios (and Boëthos--roughly contemporary with
Pan.: see Comparetti, _Ind. Stoic._, p. 78 f.--acc. to Macr., _in S.
Scip._ 1, 14, 20) regarded the soul as compounded of two elements,
_aer et ignis_, not {518} as a single and uncompounded ~pneu=ma
e/nthermon~ as the older Stoa had taught (see Schmekel, _Philos. d.
mittl. Stoa_, 324 f.).]
[58\14: ~phu/sis~ and ~psuchê/~: Pan. ap. Nemes., _NH._, p. 212
Matth. This clearly shows a tendency to a psychological dualism:
Zeller, _Stoics and Epicureans_, p. 542 f. What further suggestions
were made by Pan. about the division of the soul remains very
problematical. The only more precise statement is Cicero's, _TD._ i,
80 (speaking of Pan.), aegritudines iras libidinesque semotas a
mente et disclusas putat.]
[59\14: Panaitios denied not merely the immortality but even the
~diamonê/~ of the soul after death: Cic., _TD._ i, 78-9. Two reasons
are there given: everything that has come into being (like the soul
of man at birth) must also perish--the Aristotelian principle: see
above, n. 25; what can feel pain (as the soul does) must become
diseased and what is diseased must eventually perish. (Here the
**destruction of the soul from its own inward decay is asserted--not
from the effect of external force at the world conflagration, the
periodic occurrence of which Pan. at least called in question.) Acc.
to Schmekel (_mittl. Stoa_, p. 309) it follows from Cic., _TD._ i,
42, that Panaitios also added a third argument: that the soul being
composite must suffer the dissolution of its parts in death which
change into other elements. This does not indeed at all follow from
the passage, but such a view would almost have been inevitable with
Panaitios' doctrine of the soul and had already been suggested by
Karneades in his polemic against the indestructibility of the divine
and of every ~zô=|on~--an argument to which Pan. on the whole
yielded.]
[60\14: Poseidonios distinguished in the human soul not three parts
but three ~duna/meis mia=s ousi/as ek tê=s kardi/as hormôme/nês~
(Gal. v, 515), namely, the Platonic three, the ~logistiko/n,
thumoeide/s, epithumêtiko/n~ (Gal. v, 476). The last two are the
~duna/meis a/logoi~ (they only give ~phantasi/ai~ the special forms
taken by their impulses: Gal. v, 474, 399). The ~pa/thê~ are not
judgments nor the consequences of judgment but the motions
(~kinê/seis~) of these ~duna/meis a/logoi~ (Gal. v, 429; cf. 378).
In this way alone is it possible to understand how passion or
wrong-doing can arise in man; it is because soul is not (as
Chrysipp. had taught) pure reasoning power (cf. also Gal. iv, 820).
There exists then in man an ~a/logon kai\ kako/daimon kai\
_a/theon_~ in addition to the ~dai/môn suggenê\s tô=| to\n ho/lon
ko/smon dioikou=nti~: Gal. v, 469 f. How, indeed, this is possible
when the soul is a single ~ousi/a~ and in its nature nothing but
divine ~pneu=ma~ it is difficult to say.--Pos. too was quite
ignorant of an evil principle in the world, not the divine or
contrary to the divine principle. The ethical teaching of Stoicism
had always contained a dualism which is here transferred to the
physical doctrine where it was originally unknown. From the time of
Pos. there is an ever growing tendency to emphasize the contrast
(which was, however, always familiar to the older Stoics as well)
between "soul" and "body", the _inutilis caro ac fluida_, Pos. ap.
Sen., _Ep._ 92, 10. In view of this contrast the "soul" too is no
longer said to come into being with the body or with the physical
conception of the individual (cf. ~gegone/nai tê\n psuchê\n kai\
metageneste/ran ei=nai [tou= sô/matos]~, Chrysipp. ap. Plu., _Sto.
Rep._ 1053 D [ii, 222 Arn.]), but rather to have been living before
that, in the separate life of the divine. It is nowhere expressly or
authoritatively stated that Poseidonios held the "pre-existence" of
the "soul"; but that view has been rightly attributed to him,
fitting in as it does with his other ideas, and because it is often
introduced and taken for granted in those passages where {519}
Cicero or Seneca are following Pos. (see Corssen, _de Pos. Rhod._,
p. 25 ff. But we may not read the doctrine of pre-existence into
S.E., _M._ ix, 71, as Heinze, _Xenok._ 134, 2, does). If the
soul-~dai/môn~ was in existence before its incarnation it can
presumably only enter the body with the conception of the individual
life ~thu/rathen~, _tractus extrinsecus_ as Cic. puts it, _Div._ ii,
119; a passage obviously related (as Bonhöffer, _Epikt._ 79 remarks)
to the statement in _Div._ i, 64, where he is speaking of the
_immortales animi_ of which the air is full--and there Pos. is
mentioned by name as the authority. From its pre-existent life in
the air the "soul" enters into man. The multitude of individual
bodiless souls--not only the one impersonal soul-substance of the
world--were thus living before their ~ensôma/tôsis~, and the Stoic
pantheism thus turns into a rather questionable "pandaemonism". On
the other hand, Poseidonios in opposition to his teacher, Panaitios,
adheres to the doctrine of the periodic extinction of all life in
the one Soul of the World, the original Fire: cf. _Dox._ 388a, 18;
b, 19. Holding this view he cannot very well have put the origin of
each of the individual soul-daimones before the beginning of the
particular world-period in which they live. Nor can the survival of
the souls after their separation from the body be prolonged beyond
the next ~ekpu/rôsis~ (which makes Cicero's _immortales animi_
inexact: _Div._ i, 64, after Pos.). Thus, although the survival
which Panaitios had denied is reaffirmed it does not go beyond the
qualified doctrine of immortality which the older Stoics had held.
At the same time Pos. could hold, with Chrysipp. and other Stoics,
that there was a ~periodikê\ paliggenesi/a~ (M. Ant. xi, 1) after
the world-conflagration and even that each individual man of the
previous world-period would be restored again in precisely the same
place (Chrysipp. ap. Lact., _Inst._ 7, 23, 3, etc.; ii, 189 Arn.;
cf. the Orphico-Pythagorean fantasy: above, chap. x, n. 47). But
this would not amount to an ~athanasi/a~ for the individual: the
individual life has been interrupted and is separated from its
~apokata/stasis~ by a long interval of time.--There is no
satisfactory reason for assigning to Pos. the belief in a series of
~metensômatô/seis~ of the soul--as Heinze does, _Xen._ 132
ff.--though such an idea would not have been hard to arrive at, even
while holding fast to the doctrine of the final ~ekpu/rôsis~. But
the dubious accounts given by many ~doxogra/phoi~ of Stoic teaching
on the question of the ~metaggismo\s psuchô=n~ need not necessarily
refer to Poseidonios: nor are we bound to draw this conclusion
because they reappear in Plutarch. Plu. does indeed here and there
follow Poseidonios, but he never hesitates to add Platonic ideas or
fancies of his own invention, a fact which makes it most risky to
attempt to fix an exact source for any particular detail in his
variegated mosaic.]
[61\14: Schmekel (_Phil. d. mittl. Stoa_, 1892) maintains
convincingly that Panaitios was led to his view of the nature and
fate of the soul chiefly by the polemic of Karneades against the
dogmatic philosophers and particularly the Stoics. It is less
certain that Poseidonios and his heterodox views are influenced by
respect for Karneades. It is certain, however, that Pos. differs
from Chrysipp., and still more from Panaitios. There is thus an
indirect connexion between him and Karneades, to whose criticisms
Panaitios had in the most essential points given way.]
[62\14: That Pos. is being used in the first book of _Tusc. Disp._
is admitted on all hands (as to the extent of that use conjecture
may indeed be various). It is at least very possible in the case of
_Somn. Scip._ (see Corssen, _Pos._ 40 ff.).--The attraction of such
theories of immortality {520} remained an aesthetic one with Cicero
(and probably among all the cultured of his age and social circle).
Where he is not speaking rhetorically or in pursuance of a literary
pose--in his letters esp.--he shows no trace of the conviction that
he defends at other times with so much ardour (see Boissier, _Rel.
rom. d'Aug. aux Ant._ i, 58 f.).]
[63\14: ~ou kata\ psilê\n para/taxin, alla\ lelogisme/nôs kai\
semnô=s~ though not always quite ~atragô/|dôs~ (M. Ant. xi, 3).]
[64\14: Julius Kanus when condemned to death by Gaius only attempts
to _enquire_ whether there is any truth in the belief in
immortality: Sen., _Tr. An._ 14, 8-9. De natura animae et
dissociatione spiritus corporisque inquirebat Thrasea Paetus, before
his execution, with his instructor Demetrius the Cynic: Tac., _A._
xvi, 34. They have no firm conviction in these matters that might
serve to explain or account for their heroism (Cato reads the
_Phaedo_ before his suicide: Plu., _Cat. min._ 68, 70).]
[65\14: nos quoque felices animae et aeterna sortitae says the soul
of her father to Marcia: Sen., _C. ad Marc._ 26, 7, in antiqua
elementa vertemur at the ~ekpu/rôsis~.]
[66\14: Sen., _Ep._ 88, 34.]
[67\14: _bellum somnium_, Sen., _Ep._ 102, 2.]
[68\14: Where Seneca admits more positive conceptions of a life
after death he never goes beyond a fortasse, si modo vera sapientium
fama est (_Ep._ 63, 16); a deliberate concession to the consensus
hominum (_Ep._ 117, 6) or the opiniones magnorum virorum rem
gratissimam promittentium magis quam probantium (_Ep._ 102, 3).
Following the conventional style of consolatory discourses he gives
such expressions a more vivid turn in the _Consolationes_: e.g.
_Marc._ 25, 1 ff.; _Helv._ 11, 7; _Polyb._ 9, 8. But even there the
idea of _personal_ immortality hardly seems to be taken seriously.
In the same pieces death is commended simply as putting an end to
all pain, and, in fact, to all sensation: _Marc._ 19, 4-5. In death
we become again as we were before being born, _Marc._ 19, 5; cf.
_Ep._ 54, 4, mors est non esse, id quale sit iam scio. hoc erit post
me quod ante me fuit; and _Ep._ 77, 11, non eris: nec fuisti. So
that whether death is a _finis_ or a _transitus_, (_Prov._ 6, 6;
_Ep._ 65, 24), it is equally welcome to the wise man who has made
the most of his life, however short it may have been. Whether he
goes then to the gods or whether on the other hand nothing is left
of the mortal creature after death aeque magnum animum habebit
(_Ep._ 93, 10); cf. nunquam magis divinum est (pectus humanum) quam
ubi mortalitatem suam cogitat, et scit in hoc natum hominem ut vita
defungeretur cet., (_Ep._ 120, 14); ipsum perire non est magnum,
anima in expedito est habenda (_QN._ 6, 32, 5); to be ready is
everything.--Of the old Stoic dogmas the only one that seems to
remain certain for Seneca is that of ~paliggenesi/a~ at the new
creation of the world, _Ep._ 36, 10-11: mors intermittit vitam, non
eripit: venit iterum qui nos in lucem reponat dies; but that is not
in any way a consolation: multi recusarent nisi oblitos reduceret.
Consciousness ceases with the coming of death in this world-period.]
[69\14: It is very rarely that the utterances of the Emperor on the
subject of what happens after death resemble those of a convinced
Stoic of the old school. The souls are all parts of the one ~noera\
psuchê/~ of the world which though extended over so many individual
souls yet remains a unity (ix, 8; xii, 30). After death the
individual soul will survive for a period in the air until it is
merged into the universal soul ~eis to\n tô=n ho/lôn spermatiko\n
lo/gon~ (iv, 21). This implies the survival of the personal self for
an undefined period, but it is {521} not a fixed conviction of M.
Ant. As a rule he allows the choice between ~sbe/sis ê\
meta/stasis~, i.e. immediate extinction and merging of the
individual soul (Panait.) or its removal into a temporary abode of
the souls in the air (~hai eis to\n ae/ra methista/menai psuchai/~,
iv, 21; cf. v, 53). Or else the choice is between ~sbe/sis,
meta/stasis~ (both in agreement with the Stoic doctrine of the
~he/nôsis~ of the soul) or ~skedasmo/s~ of the soul-elements, in
case the atomists are right (vii, 32; viii, 25; vi, 24)--a dilemma
which really comes down to ~skedasmo/s~ or ~sbe/sis (= lêphthê=nai
eis tou\s ko/smou spermatikou\s lo/gous~); and ~meta/stasis~ falls
out. This is probably the meaning also of x, 7: ~ê/toi skedasmo\s
stoichei/ôn ê\ _tropê/_~ (in which ~to\ pneumatiko/n~ disappears
~eis to\ aerô=des~) and ~tropê/~ only of the last ~pneumatiko/n~
that man preserves in himself: for here (at the end of the chapter)
the identity of the individual soul with itself is given up in the
Herakleitean manner (see above, p. 370). Sometimes the choice is
presented between ~anaisthêsi/a~ or ~he/teros bi/os~ after death
(iii, 3) or ~ai/sthêsis heteroi/a~ in an ~alloi=on zô=|on~ (viii,
58). This is no allusion to metempsychosis (in which the envelope
into which the soul goes is another but its ~ai/sthêsis~ does not
become ~heteroi/a~): it means the turning of the _soul-pneuma_,
exhaled in death, to new forms of life united to the previous forms
by no identity of soul-personality. In this case we can indeed say
~tou= zê=n ou pau/sê|~: but there can be no idea of the survival of
the personal ego. ~hê tô=n ho/lôn phu/sis~ exchanges and
redistributes its elements; all things are changing (viii, 6; ix,
28). The Emperor never seriously thinks of the survival of
personality; he seeks rather to inquire why things are as they are;
but he never doubts that as a matter of fact even the noblest of
mankind must also "go out" completely with death (xii, 5).
Everything changes and one thing perishes to make way for another
(xii, 21); and so each man must say to himself ~met' ou polu\
oudei\s oudamou= e/sê|~ (xii, 21; viii, 5). The wise man will say it
with calmness: his soul is ~he/toimos ea\n ê/dê apoluthê=nai de/ê|
tou= sô/matos . . .~ xi, 3. Living among men to whom his way of
thought is strange (~en tê=| diaphôni/a| tê=s sumbiô/seôs~) he sighs
at times ~tha=tton e/lthois, ô= tha/nate . . .~ ix, 3; cf.
Bonhöffer, _Epikt. u. d. Stoa_, 59 ff.]
[70\14: I shall die without resisting God ~eidô\s ho/ti to\
geno/menon kai\ phtharê=nai dei=. ou ga/r eimi aiô\n all'
a/nthrôpos, me/ros tô=n pa/ntôn hôs hô/ra hême/ras; enstê=nai/ me
dei= hôs tê\n hô/ran kai\ parelthei=n hôs hô/ran~, Epictet. ii, 5,
13. The present must make way for the future ~hi/n' hê peri/odos
anu/êtai tou= ko/smou~, ii, 17-18; iv, 1, 106. Death brings with it
not complete destruction, ~ouk apô/leian~, but ~tô=n prote/rôn eis
he/tera metabola/s~, iii, 24, 91-4. But the personality of the now
living individual does indeed perish completely in death.--Cf.
Bonhöffer, _Epiktet_, 65 f.; cf. also the same author's _Ethik des
Epiktet_, p. 26 ff., 52 (1894).]
[71\14: Cornutus ap. Stob., _Ecl._ i, 383, 24-384, 2 W.]
[72\14: The ~psuchê/~ a ~sô=ma~ (the only ~asô/maton~ is empty space
which is merely a passage way for the ~sô/mata~), D.L, x, 67 [p. 21
Us.]. It is a ~sô=ma leptomere/s, par' ho/lon to\ a/throisma~ (i.e.
of atoms to a body) ~paresparme/non, prosemphere/staton de\
pneu/mati thermou= tina kra=sin e/chonti~, D.L. x, 63. Cf. Lucr.
iii, 126 ff.; more precise is iii, 231-46. It is the ~a/throisma~
which ~tê\n psuchê\n stega/zei~, D.L. x, 64. vas quasi constitit
eius, Lucr. iii, 440, 555.]
[73\14: Lucr. iii, 94 ff., 117 ff.]
[74\14: The ~a/logon ho\ en tô=| loipô=| pare/spartai sô/mati, to\
de\ logiko\n en tô=| thô/raki~, Sch. D.L. x, 67 (p. 21 Us.), _fr._
312, 313 Us. _anima_ and _animus_, Lucr. iii, 136 ff. The _anima_,
though it is diminished {522} when the man loses his limbs (in which
it inheres), yet allows him to remain alive. The _animus_, however,
_vitai claustra coercens_, must not be diminished otherwise the
_anima_ escapes as well and the man dies: Lucr. iii, 396 ff. The
_animus_ with its perceptions is more independent of _anima_ and
_corpus_ than they are of it: Lucr. iii, 145 ff.]
[75\14: Lucr. iii, 421-4.]
[76\14: Lucr. iii, 445 ff.]
[77\14: The soul ~diaspei/retai, luome/nou tou= ho/lou
athroi/smatos~ and cannot retain any ~ai/sthêsis~ apart from its
~a/throisma~, D L. x, 65-6. The winds disperse it: Lucr. iii, 506
ff. ~kapnou= di/kên ski/dnatai~, Epicur. _fr._ 337. _ceu fumus_,
Lucr. iii, 446-583.]
[78\14: radicitus e vita se tollit et eicit, Lucr. iii, 877.]
[79\14: Lucr. iii, 854-60; 847-53.]
[80\14: ~oude\ taphê=s phrontiei=n (to\n sopho/n)~ _fr._ 578. Cf.
Lucr. iii, 870 ff. The way in which the body, deserted by its soul,
is buried or disposed of is of no consequence: Phld., _Mort._, p.
41-2 Mekl.]
[81\14: D.L. x, 124-5.]
[82\14: ~ho tha/natos oude\n pro\s hêma=s, to\ ga\r dialuthe\n
anaisthêtei=, to\ de\ anaisthêtou=n oude\n pro\s hêma=s~, Ep.,
_Sent._ ii; D.L. x, 139 (p. 71 Us.). Frequently repeated: see Usen.,
p. 391 f.]
[83\14: dolor and morbus, leti fabricator uterque, affect the soul
too, Lucr. iii, 459 ff., 470 ff., 484 ff. Nothing that can be broken
up into parts can be eternal; 640 ff., 667 ff. The chief argument:
quod cum corpore nascitur, cum corpore intereat necesse est, Ep.,
_fr._ 336. (They are identical in part with the arguments which
Karneades directed against the theory of the eternity and
indestructibility of the highest ~zô=|on~, God. Karn. must have got
them from Epicurus.)]
[84\14: Cf. Ep., _Sent._ xi, p. 73 f. Us.]
[85\14: To be able to see ~mêde\n pro\s hêma=s ei=nai to\n
tha/naton, apo/lauston poiei= to\ tê=s zô|ê=s thnêto/n, ouk a/peiron
protithei=sa chro/non alla\ to\n tê=s athanasi/as aphelome/nê
po/thon~, D.L. x, 123; cf. Metrod. (?), ed. Körte, p. 588, col.
xvi.]
[86\14: ~gego/namen ha/pax, di\s de\ ouk e/sti gene/sthai ktl.~
hence _carpe diem_! _fr._ 204; see also _fr._ 490-4. Metrod. _fr._
53 K.]
[87\14: D.L. x, 81.]
[88\14: Against the fear of torment and punishment in the
underworld: _fr._ 340-1, cf. Lucr. iii, 1011 ff. (torments such as
those fabled of Hades exist in _this_ world: iii, 978 ff.). Cf. the
letter of the Epicurean Diogenes, _Rh. Mus._ 47, 428 ~. . .
phobou=mai ga\r oude\n~ (sc. ~to\n tha/naton) dia\ tou\s Tituou\s
kai\ tou\s Tanta/lous hou\s anagra/phousin en Ha/idou tine/s, oude\
phri/ttô tê\n mu/dêsin (mê/dêsin~ the stone) ~ktl.~]
[89\14: metus ille foras praeceps Acheruntis agendus, funditus
humanam qui vitam turbat ab imo, omnia suffundens mortis nigrore
neque ullam esse voluptatem liquidam puramque reliquit, Lucr. iii,
37 ff.]
[90\14: D.L. x, 126. ridiculum est currere ad mortem taedio vitae,
_fr._ 496.]
[91\14: artifex vitae, Sen. _Ep._ 90, 27.]
[92\14: ~--su\ de\ tê=s au/rion ouk ô\n ku/rios anaba/llê| to\n
kairo/n; ho de\ pa/ntôn bi/os mellêsmô=| parapo/llutai . . .~ _fr._
204.]
[93\14: Negat Epicurus ne diuturnitatem quidem temporis ad beate
vivendum aliquid afferre, nec minorem voluptatem percipi in
brevitate temporis quam si sit illa sempiterna, Cic., _Fin._ ii, 87;
cf. Ep., _Sent._ xix (p. 75 Us.). ~chro/non ou to\n mê/kiston alla\
to\n hê/diston karpi/zetai (ho sopho/s)~: D.L. x, 126.--quae mala
nos subigit vitai tanta cupido, Lucr. iii, 1077. eadem sunt omnia
semper, 945.] {523}
[94\14: ~hê dia/noia . . . to\n pantelê= bi/on pareskeu/asen kai\
oude\n e/ti tou= apei/rou chro/nou prosedeê/thê~, _Sent._ xx (p. 75
Us.).]
[95\14: ~ouk e/sti phusikê\ koinôni/a toi=s logikoi=s pro\s
allê/lous~.--_sibi quemque consulere_, _fr._ 523. Aloofness from
~tai=s tô=n plêthô=n archai=s~ _frr._ 554, 552, 9.]
[96\14: ~hoi no/moi cha/rin tô=n sophô=n kei=ntai, ouch ho/pôs mê\
adikô=sin, all' ho/pôs mê\ adikô=ntai~, _fr._ 530.]
[97\14: ~ouke/ti dei= sô/|zein tou\s He/llênas, oud' epi\ sophi/a|
stepha/nôn par' autoi=s tugcha/nein . . .~ Metrod. _fr._ 41.]
{{524}}
CHAPTER XIV
PART II
POPULAR BELIEF
Philosophic teaching and the philosophic outlook were at this time
by no means confined exclusively to the narrow circles dominated by
particular schools. Never more widely or more effectively than in
this Hellenistic period did philosophy in one shape or another
provide the basis and common medium of a culture that no one of
moderate wealth and leisure would willingly be without. Such ideas
as educated people of the time generally possessed, dealing in a
more connected and definite form with the things of this life and
existence that lie beyond the scope of immediate perception, were
all drawn from the teaching of philosophy. To a certain extent this
is true also of the current views as to the nature and destiny of
the soul. But in the region of the unknowable philosophy can never
entirely replace or suppress the natural--the irrational beliefs--of
mankind. Such beliefs were in their natural element in dealing with
such subjects. They influenced even the philosophically enlightened
and their authority was supreme with the many who in every age are
incapable of understanding the disinterested search for knowledge.
Even in this supreme period of universal philosophic culture,
popular beliefs about the soul still remained in force, unmodified
by the speculations or the exhortations of philosophers.
They had their roots--these beliefs--not in any form of speculative
thought but in the practice of the Cult of Souls: and that Cult, as
it has been described[1\15] for an earlier stage of Greek life,
still went on unaltered and with undiminished vigour. This may be
asserted with confidence, though we can produce no very important
evidence from the literature of this later period. The character and
content of that literature is such that we should hardly expect to
find such evidence in it. But for the most part the literary
evidence from which we were able to illustrate the Cult of Souls in
an earlier period may be taken to apply equally to the age with
which we are now dealing. Even in its final years Lucian's pamphlet
_On Mourning_ bears express witness to the survival of the ancient
and sanctified usages in their fullest compass. We hear again of the
washing, anointing, {525} and crowning of the dead, the ceremonious
lying-in-state upon the bier, the violent and extravagant lament
over the dead body, and all the traditional customs that are still
in full force. Last comes the solemn interment of the body--the
articles of luxury burnt together with the corpse of the dead man or
buried with him in the grave--articles that had once belonged to him
and which he is supposed to enjoy even in death--the feeding of the
helpless soul of the dead with libations of wine and
burnt-offerings--the ritual fasting of the relatives only broken,
after three days, in the Banquet of the Dead.[2\15]
The dead man must not be deprived of a single one of "the customary
things"--only so can his well-being be fully secured.[3\15] The most
important of these is the solemn interment of the body. This is
carried out not only by the family of the dead man, but in many
cases also by the society to which he may have belonged.[4\15] In
these times when the cities sought to make up for the loss of more
serious interests in their life by an often touching care for the
immediate and the insignificant, deserving citizens were frequently
honoured with elaborate funeral processions in which the
municipality took part;[5\15] the city fathers would then probably
decree that representatives should be sent to the survivors and
commissioned to express the sympathy of the city in their loss and
distract their minds from their grief by a speech.[6\15]
The ritual act of burial, the object of so much pious zeal, was the
very reverse of the indifferent matter that philosophy loved to
represent it.[7\15] The sanctity of the place where rests the dead
is also a matter of great importance, not only for the dead man
himself but for the rest of the family which desires to be still
united in the life of the spirit world, and so inhabits a common
burial-ground (generally outside the city, very rarely within,[8\15]
but sometimes, even yet, actually inside the house.[9\15] The
founder of a family-grave desires the members of it to be joined
together in the same grave for at least three generations.[10\15]
Those who have a right to be buried there take steps--religious and
legal or municipal--against the profanation of this family tomb and
sanctuary by the burying in it of strangers or the pillaging of the
vault--a practice that became increasingly common in the final
period of the antique world.[11\15] There are innumerable
grave-notices threatening money penalties in accordance with the
ancient law of the city, to be paid into the public treasury by
those who violate the peace of the grave.[12\15] No less common are
the inscriptions which place the grave and its sanctity {526} under
the protection of the underworld deities, invoking at the same time
the most shocking curses--torments and calamities both temporal and
eternal--against profaners of the holiness of the tomb.[13\15]
Especially the inhabitants of certain districts of Asia Minor, only
very superficially Hellenized, give themselves free rein in the
accumulation of such violent execrations. In their case the dark
superstitions of ancestral and native worship of gods or spirits may
have infected the Hellenes also--it is often the Greeks who become
barbarian rather than the barbarians who are Hellenized in the
history of Greek relations with these stubborn and barbarous native
populations.[14\15] But even in lands where the Greek population has
maintained itself without admixture such execrations are
occasionally to be found in graves.
As time went on and the sanctity and peace of the grave began to be
more and more seriously threatened, measures of all kinds were taken
for its protection. The grave is no mere chamber of corruption; the
souls of the dead dwell there,[15\15] and therefore is it holy; as a
sanctuary it becomes completely sanctified when it has received the
last member of the family, and is enclosed for ever.[16\15] The
family so long as it lasts continues to pay the regular Soul-Cult to
its ancestors;[17\15] sometimes special foundations ensure the
payment for ever[18\15] of the Soul-Cult of which the dead have
need.[19\15] Even those whose burial place lies far away from the
graves of their own family[20\15] are not entirely deprived of
benevolent care and cult.
The pre-supposition of all Cult of Souls--that the dead survive to
enjoy at least a gloomy sepulchral existence in their last
resting-place--is everywhere vividly implied. It speaks to us with
archaic simplicity from those grave-stones upon which the dead, as
though still accessible to the sounds of the human voice and able to
understand the words of the living, are addressed with the customary
words of greeting.[21\15] Sometimes the dead man himself is provided
with a similar greeting which he is supposed to address to the
passers-by[22\15]--between him, confined to his grave, and the
others who still walk about in the daylight a dialogue takes
place.[23\15] The dead man is not entirely cut off from the affairs
of the upper world. He feels an access of fresh life when he is
called by the name that he had once borne in his life-time, and the
memory of which is now preserved only by his gravestone. His
fellow-citizens call upon him three times by name at his
burial;[24\15] but even in the grave {527} he is capable of hearing
the precious sound. On a gravestone at Athens[25\15] the dead man
enjoins upon the members of the actors' guild to which he had
belonged to call upon his name in chorus whenever they pass by his
grave, and to gladden him with the sound of hand-clapping, to which
he had been accustomed in life. At other times the passer-by "kisses
his hand"[26\15] to the dead man; a gesture which denotes the honour
paid to a Hero.[27\15] The soul is not merely alive; it belongs now,
as primitive and age-long belief expressed it, to the Higher and
Mightier Ones.[28\15] Perhaps this exaltation of the wrath and power
of the dead is the meaning of the custom by which the dead are
called the Good, the Honest (~chrêstoi/~). This usage must have
become established at an early period,[29\15] but it is not until
these later days that it is first employed as an addition to the
simple words of greeting addressed to the dead on gravestones. In
this use it is not uniformly current; it is rare in Attica (at
least, on graves of natives of that country); whereas in Boeotia,
Thessaly, and the countries of Asia Minor it is frequent and almost
universal.[30\15] In fact it is natural to suppose[31\15] that this
mode of address, originally a euphemistic title addressed to the
ghosts of the dead who were conceived as quite capable of acting in
a manner the very reverse of that attributed to them by the word,
was intended to suggest the power belonging to the personality so
addressed as one who has risen to a higher form of existence--and to
venerate him with becoming awe.[32\15]
§ 2
The conception of the departed spirit as one who has been raised to
a higher state of dignity and power receives clearer and more
conscious expression where the departed one is called a Hero.
This class of intermediate beings standing on the border line
between mankind and godhead--the world of the Heroes--was in no
danger of extinction at this period of Greek religious belief. The
attitude of mind that could think of certain special souls as
withdrawn from the limitations of visible existence and raised to a
higher spiritual state remained still vigorous and was even able to
give birth to new conceptions.
In its original and proper sense the name _Heros_ never indicated an
independent and self-sufficient spirit. _Archegetes_, "leader" or
"originator", is his real and distinctive title. The _Heros_ stands
at the beginning of a series, taking its origin {528} from him, of
mortal men for whom he is the leader and "ancestor". The genuine
Heroes are the ancestors, whether real or imaginary, of a family or
a house; in the "Heroes", after whom they wish to be called, the
members of a society, a clan, or even a whole race honour the
_archegetai_ of those groups. They are always men of power and
influence, prominent and distinguished from other men, who are
regarded as having thus entered into the life of Heroes after their
death. And even in later times the Heroes of a more recent
elevation, though they may no longer be the leaders of a train of
descendants taking their origin from them, are yet regarded as
distinguished from the people who worship them by their peculiar
virtue and dignity. To become a _Heros_ after death was a privilege
reserved for a few great and uncommon personalities who even in
their lifetime were not as other men were.
The companies of these old and specially chosen Heroes did not
suffer the fate of forgetfulness which would have been their second
and real death. The love of country and city, undying among the
Greeks, attached itself in reverent memory to the illuminated
spirits of the past who had once protected and defended their native
land. When Messene was refounded in the fourth century the Heroes of
the country were solemnly called upon to become inhabitants of the
city as they had been before--more particularly Aristomenes, the
never-forgotten champion of Messenian freedom.[33\15] Even at
Leuctra he had appeared in the melée of the fight, doing battle for
the Thebans.[34\15] Before the battle, Epameinondas had secured the
favour of the Heroines of the place, the daughters of Skedasos, by
means of prayer and sacrifice.[35\15] These were events of the last
heroic age of Greek history, but the cult and memory of the local
Heroes of the Greek countries survived into a much later age.
Leonidas was worshipped by the people of Sparta for many
centuries,[36\15] and the champions of the Persian Wars, the
saviours of Hellas, were worshipped by their remote
descendants.[37\15] Even in imperial times the inhabitants of the
island of Kos still worshipped those who had fallen to secure their
freedom centuries before.[38\15] Such individual cases allow us to
see what was the general rule: the memory and cult of a Hero lived
on as long as the community remained in existence whose duty it was
to maintain his worship. Even those Heroes--a class by
themselves--who have secured their immortality through their fame in
ancient poetry[39\15] still retained their cult undiminished. The
heroic {529} figure of Hektor still preserved life and reality for
his worshippers in the Troad or at Thebes.[40\15] Even in the third
century of our era the district of Troy and the neighbouring coasts
of Europe still kept fresh the memory and the cult of the Heroes of
Epic renown.[41\15] Of Achilles, who had a special fate, we must
speak in another connexion.[42\15]
Nor did less splendid figures vanish from the memory of their
narrower associations of worshippers. Autolykos the founder of
Sinope retained his cult even in the time of Lucullus.[43\15] At a
quite late period the relics of the specially popular Heroes of the
Pan-Hellenic games were still the subject of many
superstitions[44\15] that bear witness to their continued influence.
Heroes to whom healing powers were ascribed continued to do works of
healing and to be worshipped, and their number was even
extended.[45\15] Mere local spirits, whose very names had been
forgotten, nevertheless lost none of the honour that came to them
from their beneficent miracles; such were, for instance, that
Philopregmon of Poteideia who was celebrated by a late poet,[46\15]
or the Hero Euodos of Apollinopolis in Egypt who dispensed "good
journey" to those who honoured him in passing by his
monument.[47\15]
But all Heroes were not yet reduced to such casual salutations from
occasional passers-by. In many places[48\15] the regular festivals
and sacrifices to Heroes still survived--even human sacrifice was
still sometimes made to spirits who were held capable of special
exhibitions of power.[49\15] In a few cases the festivals of Heroes
are the chief feasts in the annual calendar of a city.[50\15] The
names of Heroes quite as much as of Gods were used in
oath-taking[51\15] at treaties made by Greek cities so long as they
retained their independence. Foundations were dedicated to the
honour of Gods and Heroes together.[52\15] Cult associations called
themselves after the Heroes they met to worship.[53\15] Special
priests of certain Heroes were regularly appointed.[54\15] Even in
the second century, in his book of travels, Pausanias is able to
inform us of not a few Heroes whose cult, as he distinctly says, had
gone on unbroken in their cities down to his own day.[55\15] The
annual festival of the Heroes who had fallen at Plataea was still
celebrated with the greatest pomp in the time of Plutarch, who
describes every detail of its archaic ceremonial.[56\15] And at
Sikyon, at the same time, the Heroic festival of Aratos, the founder
of the Achæan League, was still celebrated, though here the
centuries had robbed the occasion of many of its former
glories.[57\15] {530}
In all such ceremonies it was to a single and definite
spirit-personality that the devotion of men was offered. Each of
them received the cult that was due to him by the terms of some
old-established and sanctified foundation. Nothing was further from
men's minds than the loose and vague conception, expressed sometimes
by ancient writers, that _all_ brave men of the past or all
outstanding individuals of whatever time are to be regarded
forthwith as Heroes.[58\15] It was still clearly and consciously
felt that elevation to the rank of Hero was not a privilege that
belonged as a matter of course to any particular class of mankind,
but, wherever it occurred, was essentially a ratification of quite
exceptional worth and influence displayed already in the lifetime of
the Hero. Following this conception even the Hellenistic age added
to the number of the Heroes by drawing upon the great men of the
present. A little earlier Pelopidas and Timoleon had been honoured
in this way, and now the figures of Leosthenes, Kleomenes, and
Philopoimen were raised to heroic glory.[59\15] Even Aratos, the
very incarnation of the sobriety of a too matter-of-fact age, at the
end of a life devoted with ardour but without enduring success to
the service of his country, was supposed by his countrymen to have
passed over in a mysterious manner into the realm of heroic
semi-divinity.[60\15]
As in these cases whole populations honoured individuals so also did
narrower and much humbler associations, even in this rationalist
age, elevate their helpers and protectors to the rank of Hero and
honour them as such. The slaves of Kos thus honoured their former
comrade and leader Drimakos;[61\15] at another place there was a
Hero who protected all refugees who took shelter with him;[62\15] at
Ephesos there was a Hero who had been a simple shepherd.[63\15] At
the time of Augustus, a benefactor of his city, Athenodoros, the
philosopher, had been made a Hero by grateful Tarsians after his
death.[64\15] It sometimes happens that a Hero of the distant past
may find himself confused with a descendant of the same name whom
his contemporaries put in the place of his own ancestor and worship
in his stead.[65\15]
So little were men grown out of the ideas centred round the cult of
Heroes that, accustomed to the ever-increasing adoration of the
"Mightier and Better", every age was eager to add to their number
from the men of the present. They did not always wait for the death
of the individual so honoured before beginning to address him as
_Heros_; even in his lifetime he must enjoy a foretaste of the
honour that was destined {531} to be his after his departure from
this life. Thus, Lysander was saluted as a Hero after his victory by
the Greeks whom he had liberated from the despotism of Athens; and
in the Hellenistic age many a fortunate army commander or mighty
king received the same honour. Of the Romans Flamininus the friend
of the Greeks was the first to receive it.[66\15] This
misapplication of the cult of Heroes to the living then became still
further extended.[67\15] It may be that sometimes it was a real
feeling of unusual merit that fired the impulsive temperament of the
Greeks; but in the end the custom became almost a meaningless
convention; even private individuals were thus called Hero in their
lifetime[68\15] and heroic honours--even the foundation of annual
athletic games--were granted to living persons almost
indiscriminately.[69\15] And at last when it was necessary to honour
an individual whom the love and passionate regret of a monarch
elevated to the rank of Hero after his death then, indeed, the age
could hardly do enough in the hyperbole of pomp and ceremony. The
funeral honours paid to the dead Hephaistion are an extravagant
example of this.[70\15]
If in such cases the limits between the worship of a Hero and the
adoration of a god seemed almost to have disappeared, we still have
evidence of individual cases in which the survivors, without
actually naming them Heroes, offer to their much-loved dead a
memorial cult that hardly falls short of full heroic honours.[71\15]
Nor is it only in such cases as these that we perceive the signs of
a tendency to exalt the Cult of Souls everywhere and to approximate
it to the worship of ancestors in the ancient Cult of Heroes. It
emerges clearly enough, for all the brevity of their language, from
the multitude of epitaphic inscriptions in which members of simple
citizen families are addressed with the title of _Heros_. At any
rate, it betokens an increase in the importance and dignity of the
dead when a tombstone expressly announces that an individual citizen
has been "heroized" by the city after his death. And this is what
not infrequently happened--early in Thera and later on in many other
places as well.[72\15] The same conclusion must be drawn when we
hear of associations declaring a dead member to be a _Heros_;[73\15]
or when a society recognizes a dead man as _Heros_ on the formal
motion of an individual.[74\15] Families, too, become accustomed to
giving the name to those of their number that have died before the
rest; and a son will thus speak of his father, parents of a son, and
a wife of her husband--either informally or by a formal declaration
naming {532} the dead one as _Heros_.[75\15] A higher and mightier
form of existence after death must be imagined for the departed when
he is thus distinguished so explicitly from the ordinary multitude
of the dead--still more so in those cases when the dead man,
elevated to a mystic communion with higher forms of life, loses his
own name and receives in exchange that of a Hero of long-standing
honour, or even that of a God.[76\15]
In every case that is known to us, the "heroizing" of a dead person
by the city or a society or the family is carried out entirely on
the independent authority of those bodies. The Delphic Oracle,
without whose deciding voice it was hardly possible in early times
for the company of the elect to receive any addition,[77\15] was, in
these days when the prestige of the oracle had sunk almost to
nothing, no longer applied to for its sanction. The consequence was
hardly avoidable that the licence thus accorded to corporations and
families should widen still further the bounds of the Heroes'
kingdom. In the end, these boundaries broke down entirely. There
were cities and countries where it became the custom to apply the
title of "Hero" as an epithet of honour belonging to all the dead
without distinction. It seems that this extension of "heroizing" to
all the dead first became common in Boeotia,[78\15] though here it
was not quite universal--Thespiai was an exception.[79\15]
Thessalian grave-inscriptions give the fullest evidence for the
heroizing of the dead of every age and description. But the custom
spread to every country populated by Greeks;[80\15] only Athens is
less unrestrained[81\15] in the bestowal of the title of Hero upon
the dead--a title which retained no more of the old and essential
meaning of the word (which perhaps survived longest in Athens) than
to say that the dead were really now dead.[82\15]
In spite of such indiscriminate application the name "Hero" still
continued to be something of a title of honour. An honour, indeed,
that was thus accorded to everyone without distinction was in danger
of becoming the reverse of an honour. But isolated phrases of a
naive and popular character make it clear that a difference was
still felt to exist between the "Hero" and those who were not
honoured with this distinguishing epithet.[83\15] When the name of
Hero was thus applied to all the dead, not in exceptional cases but
as a rule, the glory and distinction of which the idea of the "Hero"
was thus deprived must have fallen in some measure upon the
individual dead, if they {533} and the Heroes could meet on common
ground. Thus, even the dissipation of the heroic honour and its
indiscriminate application to all the dead is in reality but another
indication of the fact that even in the decline of the ancient world
the power and dignity of the departed soul had not declined too, but
had, on the contrary, grown greater.
§ 3
The souls of the departed show their power and the fact that they
are still alive more particularly in the effect that they have on
this life and on the living. For the purposes of the Cult of Souls
they are regarded as confined to the region of the inhabited earth;
they continue in the grave or near it, for a time or permanently,
and can therefore be reached by the offerings or the prayers of
their living relatives. There can be no doubt that at this time men
still believed, as they had done since the earliest times, in a
kindly relationship between the family and its departed members, an
exchange in which offerings were made at the grave by the living and
blessings vouchsafed by the Unseen. It is true, however, that we
only have imperfect records of such calm and comfortable family
belief in the survival of the departed and of the part they continue
to play in the daily life of their descendants.
But there is a more sinister variety of intercourse with the souls
or spirits of the dead. They sometimes appear unsought to the
living; they can be compelled by the force of magic to use their
powers in the service of the living. Both these possibilities apply
more particularly to those unquiet souls whom fate or their own
hands have deprived of life violently and before their time; to
those who have not been consigned to the peace of the grave by
ceremonious burial.[84\15] The enlightened of the time do indeed
refuse to believe in ghosts and haunting spirits of the dead that
wander without rest about the place of their tragic fate, and make
their presence disagreeably felt by the living.[85\15] But the
populace, even in such enlightened days, gave the fullest credence
to stories in which the existence of a spirit-world seemed to reveal
its sinister reality, trespassing at times upon the world of the
living. Regular folk-tales of spectral apparitions, vagrant ghosts
of unfortunate souls, vampire-like spirits of the grave,[86\15] are
preserved to us in some numbers--chiefly such as appealed to a
perverted philosophy, the _insaniens sapientia_ of an outworn age,
as seeming to confirm its fancies of an invisible world between
heaven and earth. In Lucian's _Lover of Lies_ the grey-beard {534}
philosophers entertain each other in portentous seriousness with
such communications from the spirit world.[87\15] Plutarch himself
is quite seriously convinced of the reality of some ghostly
appearances.[88\15] Philosophy, which at this time was going back to
Plato, found in its system of demonology a means of making such old
wives' tales intelligible and credible to itself.
Finally, the time arrives when the violent and arbitrary
interference with the unseen world--sorcery and
spirit-raising--becomes a part of orthodox philosophy. The popular
imagination of the Greeks did not have to wait for instruction from
their barbarian neighbours, who had reduced the irrational to a
system, before they could believe in the summoning of spirits from
the deep. Magic in this sense was of extreme antiquity in
Greece.[89\15] But in the fusion and intermixture of Greeks with
barbarians which marked the Hellenistic age similar and cognate
superstitions from all the corners of the earth met together and
acquired strength from their union. It was foreign sources rather
than Greek which chiefly contributed to swell the turbid and noxious
stream of sorceries and spirit-raisings, the practical application
of an irrational theory of the nature and being of the soul in
separation from the body. The lofty heaven of the old Greek gods was
beginning to grow dim before the troubled vision of this later age;
more and more their place was taken by a mob of idols and an obscure
rabble of lesser devils. In this chaotic medley of Greek and
barbarian demonology the companies of unquiet souls and ghosts of
the dead easily found a place. The ghost was no longer an alien when
the Gods themselves had become ghostly. When both Gods and spirits
have to answer to the spells of the sorcerer the souls of the dead
are seldom left in peace.[90\15] We possess some relics of the art
of spirit-raising in the Græco-Egyptian magic books; and we can now
see with our eyes specimens which illustrate the practical outcome
of this delusion in the magic charms and exorcisms that were
scratched on tablets of lead or gold and placed in the graves--as
the natural abode of the spirits which were to be compelled--where
they have been found in considerable quantities in modern times.
Among the sinister influences that are thus conjured to do the work
of vengeance, punishment, or destruction upon the conjurer's enemy,
the unquiet souls of the dead are also regularly mentioned. To them
is attributed the power and the will to intervene with malevolence
and obstruction in the life of men, no less than to the other
spiritual {535} powers of heaven and hell in company with whom they
are summoned.[91\15]
§ 4
The Cult of Souls for all its expansion gave no assistance to the
picturing of what might be the condition of the departed souls
independently of their connexion with the living. Those who troubled
themselves about such matters and sought further information were
obliged to have recourse, if not to the systems of theologians and
philosophers, then to the imaginative accounts and pictures of
ancient poetry and legend.
The idea of a distant realm of the souls into which the strengthless
shadows of those who had departed this life disappeared had not lost
its hold on the popular imagination even of these later
ages--difficult as it might be to reconcile[92\15] such an idea with
the pre-suppositions of cultus with its customary worship and
sustenance of the souls confined within the grave. The belief in a
distant kingdom of the dead could not but continue to be current
among men for whom the Homeric poems remained the earliest manual
and school-book in the hands of youth and the source of instruction
and entertainment to every age. The passionate indignation with
which philosophers of the Stoic as well as the Epicurean faith
attacked the beliefs resting on the teaching of Homer cannot be
explained except by supposing that Homer and his picture had
remained a guiding force with the masses who were uninstructed in
philosophy. And, in fact, ancient writers use language which shows
that the ancient conception of Hades was by no means discarded but
on the contrary was still vigorously alive among the
populace.[93\15]
As to what might go on down below and the general appearance of the
underworld--these were questions that the invention of theological
and semi-philosophic fancy, each according to its special lights and
preconceptions, strove to answer in eager competition.[94\15] But
such attempts to picture the condition of things in the kingdom of
the souls--attempts which reached their highest point in the
elaborate chiaroscuro of Vergil's Hades--remained the exercises of
ingenious fancy and rarely pretended to be anything else. A distinct
and authoritative popular system of belief on these points was
scarcely possible when the orthodox religion of the state formally
and dogmatically rejected everything of the kind.
It would, indeed, have been more natural if in connexion with the
idea of the congregation of souls enclosed in the {536} kingdom of
the underworld deities a belief in a compensatory justice to be
found in this after-life of the dead, had grown up and obtained
popular currency. The oppressed and needy who feel themselves
deprived of their share in this world's goods think only too easily
that somewhere there must be a place where they too will some day
enjoy the fruits that others alone are allowed to pluck upon
earth--and place that "somewhere" beyond the boundaries of this
world and of reality. Pious belief in the gods expects to obtain the
prize, so often denied upon earth, in a realm of the spirit. If
indeed such a conviction of a compensatory justice to
come[95\15]--reward of the virtuous and punishment of the wicked in
a hereafter--was really more widely and seriously held in this age
than it had been before,[96\15] then the cult of the underworld
deities as it was practised in the mysteries of the states and the
various religious societies must have contributed in a large degree
to bring this about. And contrariwise, the belief that the punishing
and rewarding omnipotence of the gods would be felt in a hereafter
must have brought an unbroken stream of adherents to those mysteries
which in fact offered their help and mediation in the life to come.
Those only could imagine that they had detailed knowledge of the
enigmas that lie beyond the reach of all experience, who could
surrender themselves entirely to the dogmatic teaching of a closed
sect. We may in fact take leave to doubt whether the gruesome
pictures of a place of torment in Hades, with its undying punishment
in devouring flames, and the similar fancies that later authors
sometimes express, were in reality anything more than the private
imaginations with which exclusive and superstitious conventicles
sought to terrorize their members.[97\15] The charming pictures of a
"Land of Arrival" to which death sends the much-tried children of
men, may have been more widely accepted. Homer, the universal
instructor, had stamped them upon men's memories. For the poet the
Elysian plain had been a place situated upon the surface of the
earth to which the occasional favour of the gods was able to
translate a few of their dearest favourites, that they might there
enjoy, without seeing death, unending bliss.[98\15] In imitation of
the Homeric fancy, the poetry of the following ages had imagined the
translation of many other Heroes and heroic women of the legendary
past to a secret life of bliss in Elysium or in the Islands of the
Blest.[99\15] Later fancy, which saw in Elysium the Land of Promise
to which all men who had lived in a manner pleasing to the gods
{537} would be taken after their death,[100\15] now placed its
Elysium or Islands of the Blest in the interior of the earth beyond
the reach of all save disembodied souls. In later times this became
the currently accepted view, but the subject remained undefined and
subject to variation. Men must still, in fact, have imagined The
Isles of the Blest, the abode of privileged spirits, to be situated
upon the surface of the earth (though, indeed, far away beyond the
limits of the discovered countries of the globe, when attempts could
be made to find the way there and to bring back news to the living.
The attempt attributed to Sertorius was only the most famous of such
voyages of discovery.[101\15] Why, indeed, should these magic Isles
remain for ever undiscovered upon the borders of the inhabited world
that yet offered so wide a field for discovery, when everybody knew
of the island in the Black Sea, often visited by living men, where
Achilles, the supreme example of miraculous translation, lived for
ever in perpetual enjoyment of his youth? For centuries the island
of Leukê, the separate Elysium of Achilles and a few select among
the Heroes, was visited and reverenced with religious awe.[102\15]
Here men thought they could discern in immediate perception, and in
actual physical contact, something of the mysterious existence of
blessed spirits. The belief in the possibility of miraculous
translation to an eternity of unbroken union of body and soul, thus
palpably and visibly substantiated, could not completely die even in
this prosaic age. The educated did indeed find this conception so
strange and unintelligible that when they come to speak of
translation legends of the past they profess themselves unable to
say what exactly the ancients had supposed to occur when such
miracles took place.[103\15] But the populace, which finds nothing
easier to believe in than the impossible, once more naively accepted
the miracle. Did not the examples of Amphiaraos and Trophonios
plainly establish the fact of translation to underground retreats?
And to them as being still alive in their caves beneath the earth a
cult was offered until an advanced period.[104\15] The translation
of beautiful youths to everlasting life in the kingdom of the nymphs
and spirits was the subject of many folk-tales.[105\15] Even in
contemporary life the miracle of translation seemed not altogether
impossible.[106\15] When the kings and queens of the Macedonian
empire of the East began to receive divine honours in imitation of
the great Alexander himself, it was not long before men ventured to
affirm that at the end of his earthly existence the Divine Ruler
everywhere {538} does not die but is merely "carried away" by the
gods and still lives on.[107\15] It is the peculiar property of
divinity, as Plato clearly expresses it,[108\15] to live for ever in
the indivisible unity of body and soul. A court-bred theology could
the more easily make such demands upon the belief of subject peoples
in the Semitic East, and possibly in Egypt too, because
native[109\15] legends had already told of the translation to
immortal life of individual men dear to the gods and akin to the
gods in nature; just as similar stories became common in Italian
legends too,[110\15] though possibly only under the influence of
Greek models. Indeed, quite apart from obsequious courtliness,
Greeks and half-Greeks were quite capable of entertaining the
idea[111\15] that the darlings of their fancy, such as Alexander the
Great, had not suffered death but had been translated alive to the
realm of imperishable physical existence. This is shown clearly
enough by the success which attended the appearance, in Moesia at
the beginning of the third century A.D., of another Alexander. This
imposter travelled from land to land with a great train of
Bacchants, and everywhere men believed in his identity with the
great monarch.[112\15] A little earlier they had believed with equal
credulity in the reappearance upon earth of the Emperor
Nero,[113\15] who, it was thought, had not died but had merely
disappeared. When Antinous, the beautiful youth beloved by the
Emperor Hadrian, sank and disappeared in his watery grave he was at
once regarded as a god who had, in fact, not died but had been
translated.[114\15] The miraculous translation of Apollonios of
Tyana is reported with the utmost seriousness;[115\15] like the
other marvels and mysteries in the strange and enigmatic existence
of this prophetic figure, it found believers enough.[116\15]
But such unbroken continuance of the united life of body and soul,
begun upon earth and carried on in a mysterious abode of bliss (the
oldest form taken by the idea of human immortality in the Greek
mind), was never attributed to more than a few specially favoured
and specially gifted individuals. An immortality of the human soul
as such, by virtue of its nature and composition--as the
imperishable force of divinity in the mortal body--never became a
real part of the belief of the Greek populace. When approximations
to such a belief do occasionally find expression in popular modes of
thought, it is because a fragment of theology or of the universally
popular philosophy has penetrated to the lower strata of the
uninstructed populace. Theology and philosophy remained the sole
true repositories of the belief in the {539} immortality of the
soul. In the meeting together and conjunction of Greek and foreign
ideas in the Hellenized Orient it was not Greek popular tradition
but solely the influence of Greek philosophy, that, finding favour
even outside the limits of Greek nationality, communicated to
foreign nations the arresting concept of the divine, imperishable
vitality of the human soul--upon the impressionable Jewish people,
at least, it had the profoundest and most deeply penetrating
influence.[117\15]
§ 5
All the various modes of conceiving the life enjoyed by the soul
after the death of the body, as they had been explored, modified,
and developed in the course of centuries, were admitted on an equal
footing to the consciousness of the Greeks in this late period of
their maturity. No formulated body of religious doctrine had by a
process of exclusion and definition given the victory to any one
conception at the expense of the others. But where so much was
permitted and so little proscribed it is still possible to ask how
these various formulations of belief, expectation, and hope stood in
relation to each other. Were any more popular and more readily
received than others? To answer this question it is natural to
suppose that we have only to turn to the numerous inscriptions from
the gravestones of the people. Here, especially in these later
times, individuals give unhampered expression to their own feelings
and thus reveal the extent and character of popular belief. But
information derived from this source must be carefully scrutinized
if it is not to lead to misconception.
If we pass in imagination through the long rows of streets in which
the Greeks placed the memorials of their dead, and read the
inscriptions on the tombstones--they now form part of the
accumulated treasures of Greek Epigraphy--the first thing that must
arrest our attention is the complete silence maintained by the
enormous majority of these inscriptions with regard to any
hope--however formulated--or any expectation of a life of the soul
after death. They content themselves with recording the name of the
dead, adding only the name of the father and (in the case of a
foreigner) the country of the deceased. At the most, the custom of
some localities may add a "Farewell". Such stubborn silence cannot
be satisfactorily explained simply on the grounds of an economy
practised by the surviving relatives {540} of the deceased (though
in some cases a municipal regulation against wordy inscriptions may
have given countenance to such economies).[118\15] The very silence
of this people that was never at a loss for words to express its
meaning whether in verse or in prose, is in itself expressive. Where
so little need was felt to give utterance to hopes of comfort, such
hopes cannot have been of very vital consequence or matters of much
assurance. Men rescued from forgetfulness only what had been the
exclusive property of the individual--his name; the appellation
which had distinguished him from all others in his lifetime and has
now become the barest and emptiest envelope of the once living
personality. Inscriptions in which precise hopes of a future life
are expressed form a very small proportion of the great mass of
epitaphic records. And of these very few again are in prose. Not as
simple records of plain and authentic fact do such provisions and
announcements of a blessed and hoped-for futurity present
themselves. They need the artistic pomp and circumstance with which
poetic fancy and extravagant affection clothe their inspired
voyagings beyond the region of cold and matter of fact reality. This
is certainly significant. Even among the poetic epitaphs the
majority allude only to the life which the deceased has now done
with, looking back upon the circumstances of his life--his fortunes
and activities and character; giving expression, often with the most
convincing sincerity, to the regret and dependence of the survivors;
fixing attention exclusively upon things of this world. Wherever, at
last, allusion is made to a future life, the tendency is rather to
let fancy roam far beyond the limits of experience and sober
reflexion to a vague and visionary land of promise. Such lofty
aspirations needed more than any others the elevated language of
verse. But we should run the risk of falling into grave error if we
concluded from the preponderance of such aspirations among the
metrical epitaphs that these were the normal views of the city folk
who were their contemporaries.
The simple and archaic conception which perpetuates the old Homeric
attitude and views without a complaint or a regret the disappearance
of the soul of the departed into Erebos, is of the rarest occurrence
among these sepulchral verses.[119\15] More commonly we have the
prayer that the departed may "rest in peace", expressed in the
traditional formula[120\15]--a formula that really refers to the
dead man lying in his grave but also contains a further allusion to
the "soul" that has departed to Hades.[121\15] The idea is not yet
dead {541} that there is a realm of the souls which receives the
departed--Hades, the world ruled over by the Underworld deities, the
"Chamber" of Persephone, the seat of primeval Night.[122\15] Here a
state of semi-conscious existence is conceived to prevail, under the
empire of "Forgetfulness", drinking of which[123\15] the
consciousness of the soul is darkened. Here "the majority"[124\15]
are assembled, and the dead man is visited by the reassuring thought
that he may greet once more the souls of those who have gone before
him.[125\15]
But sterner conceptions also occur. There is occasional reference to
a judgment[126\15] that separates the souls in the world below,
dividing them into two and sometimes three[127\15] classes in
accordance with the deserts which they have earned on earth. There
is no lingering over the pains of the damned,[128\15] in the
description of which the theological imagination had indulged so
frequently. A more simple-minded fancy did not need such pharisaical
satisfaction in the misfortunes of sinners in order to heighten its
own assurance of superiority. There is no trace of a sentiment of
penitence and terror indulged in for its own sake. The soul hopes to
come by its rights;[129\15] to reach the "Blessed", to arrive at the
Isles or the Island of the Blest--to Elysium, the abode of Heroes
and demi-gods.[130\15] Such hopes are very commonly expressed, but
as a rule only in a brief phrase of confidence and hope. We rarely
meet with any elaborate or alluring picture of the abode of the
blessed.[131\15] That abode is generally placed within the limits of
the underworld kingdom of the souls,[132\15] and such anticipations,
when particularized, refer commonly to a "Place of the Good", which
in various forms is represented as the hoped-for dwelling-place of
future life.[133\15]
But we also meet with the view that the company of the good is
entirely removed from the region of underworld darkness.[134\15] For
many individuals the hope is expressed or the certainty announced
that after death they will have their dwelling in the sky--in the
shining _Aether_, among the stars. This belief in the elevation of
the disembodied soul to the regions above the earth is so frequently
repeated in various forms in this late period that we must suppose
that among those who entertained precise conceptions of the things
of the next world this was the most popular and widely held
conviction.[135\15] This belief that the soul rises to the
neighbourhood and even the community of the heavenly deities[136\15]
has its origin both in religious aspiration and in philosophy. Its
roots, indeed, stretch back to a much {542} earlier period[137\15]
and we may suppose that even in these later days it was derived from
and very largely supported by the popular conception, disseminated
by Stoic writers, of a living "breath", which composes the human
soul, and its effort upwards to the heavenly regions.[138\15]
But such language is in many cases plainly nothing more than a
conventional formula which has already lost all vital significance;
it rarely goes further than the expression of a hope that the soul
will mount upwards to the heavenly heights. Very occasionally, in
the adjective "immortal"[139\15] applied to the soul (which only
sleeps in death),[140\15] we may detect the influence of mixed
philosophical and theological ideas. We soon come to an end of the
inscriptions which give expression to the doctrines of theology and
of theologically minded philosophy as to the divine nature of the
soul, its brief pilgrimage through earthly life and destined return
to its true home in a divine incorporeal existence.[141\15] There is
no certain mention of a belief in the transmigration of
souls.[142\15] Of the specifically Platonic doctrine or its
influence there is scarcely a trace.[143\15]
Another type of belief derives its strength not from the teachings
of philosophers but from the usage and popular practice of religion.
This is the belief of those who hope to be conducted after death to
a blessed life by the special care of a god, presumably the god to
which in their life-time they have offered particular devotion. Such
a god will lead them by the hand, they hope, and conduct them into
the land of bliss and purity. One who has thus "obtained a god as
his leader"[144\15] may face the future with equanimity. Together
with Hermes the "messenger of Persephoneia",[145\15] Persephone
herself is most frequently mentioned among these conducting
deities.[146\15] Perhaps in this we may see a reminiscence of the
hopes awakened and cherished in the Eleusinian and other related
mysteries[147\15]--hopes otherwise expressed on these tombstones
with striking rarity. On the epitaph--certainly a late
composition--of a Hierophant of Eleusis who "goes to the Immortals",
the dead man is made to commend, as a mystery revealed by the gods,
the ancient opinion illustrated by stories like that of Kleobis and
Biton[148\15] "that death not only brings no evil to mortals, but is
rather a blessing".[149\15] A gloomy philosophy has in these latter
days of the old religion and worship of the gods taken hold of the
mysteries themselves and given them an attitude of hostility to
human life that was not originally theirs.[150\15] We are reminded
of the mysteries again when we find prayers {543} or promises that
the dead shall not drink of the water of forgetfulness in the realm
of the souls, but shall be given the "cold water" to drink by the
God of the lower world; that he shall be refreshed at the spring of
Mnemosyne, the bath of immortality, and so preserve intact his
memory and consciousness, the necessary conditions of full and
blessed life.[151\15] Here there appears to be a reference to the
promises made by particular secret cults in which the departed has
specially recommended himself to the powers of life and death. This
must plainly be the case when, instead of the Greek Aidoneus, there
is mention of Osiris, the Egyptian Lord of Souls. "May Osiris give
you the cold water" is a common prayer expressed in a formula that
is of frequent and significant occurrence in late epitaphs.[152\15]
Of the numerous secret cults of these later times that promised a
blessed immortality to their adherents, there is but infrequent
mention in the grave-inscriptions: occasionally at the most there is
an allusion to the special favour, reaching even beyond the grave,
which belongs to the initiated in the mysteries of Mithras.[153\15]
No doubtful promises, but real and practical experience forms the
basis of the belief of those to whom the dead has appeared visibly
in a dream to assure them that his "soul" has not been annihilated
by death.[154\15] The oldest proof of the continued existence of the
soul remains in force the longest. The pupil hopes for something
higher from the master whom death has taken away from his sight: he
prays to him that, as he had once in life, so he will now continue
to stand by his side, assisting him in the pursuance of his
profession as a physician--"Thou canst, for now thou hast a more
divine part in life."[155\15]
Expectations of an energetic after-life of the departed soul,
expressing themselves in many forms, are widely current; but such
expectations never achieve a unified, dogmatic form. Nor was anyone
forbidden to cherish for himself and inscribe upon his grave-stone,
unorthodox opinions of every kind--even though they should point to
the very opposite of such expectations.[156\15]
A dubious "If" precedes on many epitaphs the anticipation of a
conscious life of the dead in full possession of the senses, or a
reward of the dead in accordance with their deserts: "if anything
yet remains below". Such phrases are of very frequent
occurrence.[157\15] Indeed the doubt itself is set aside when it is
distinctly asserted that after death nothing of the man remains
alive. All that men say of Hades and its terrors or its consolations
is the fabled invention of poets; darkness {544} and nothingness is
all that awaits us below.[158\15] The dead turns to ashes or to
earth;[159\15] the elements out of which he was created take back
what is their own.[160\15] Life is only lent to man and in death he
restores the loan again.[161\15] In death he pays tribute to
nature.[162\15] The bitter outcry of the survivors against death,
the savage beast of prey, loveless and pitiless, that has snatched
away their dearest from their side, shows small hope of the
preservation of the vanished life.[163\15] Grief and complaint, say
others, are vain both for the dead and for the living; no man
returns; the parting effected by death is for ever.[164\15] Only
submission is left.[165\15] "Take comfort, child, no man is
immortal"--so runs the conventional phrase current among the
populace and inscribed by many upon the graves of their vanished
dead.[166\15] "Once I was not, then I was, and now I am no more:
what more is there to be said?"--so speaks the dead from more than
one gravestone, addressing the living who is soon to suffer the same
fate.[167\15] "Live," he cries to the living, "for there is nothing
sweeter granted to us mortals than this life in the
daylight."[168\15] A last thought reverts once more to the life that
has been left behind on earth. The body dies, personality vanishes,
nothing is left alive on earth but the memory of the deeds and
virtue of the departed.[169\15] But there is a continuance in the
life of others, more vital than in the empty sound of fame, achieved
by him who leaves behind him on earth children and children's
children. There are many who, in these later ages too, are content,
in the true spirit of antiquity, with this blessing and desire no
other consolation for their own annihilation.[170\15]
§ 6
But such reassertions of the antique temper were of rarer and rarer
occurrence. The ancient world to which it had given such toughness
and energy of purpose was on its death-bed. With the end of the
third and the beginning of the fourth century it enters upon its
last agony; a general failure of nerve had long threatened the
loosely bound masses that shared in the Græco-Roman civilization. In
the general atrophy that beset its old age the vigorous blood of the
genuine and **unadulterated Greek and Roman stocks was flowing but
feebly. Now the universal process of decay sets in irresistibly. It
was its own inherent weakness that made the attacks of outside
forces so ominous to the old world. In the West the old order
vanished more swiftly and submitted more {545} completely to the new
forces, than in the Hellenized East. It was not that the old
civilization was any less rotten in the East than in the West. The
enfeebled hand and the failing mind betray themselves in every
utterance--in the last spasms of vital energy that inspired the art
and literature of moribund Greece. The impoverishment of the vital
forces out of which Greece had once brought forth the flower of its
special and characteristic spirit makes itself felt in the altered
relation of the individual to the whole, and of the totality of
visible life to the shadowy powers of the unseen world.
Individualism has had its day. No longer is the emancipation of the
individual the object of man's endeavour; no longer is he required
to arm himself against all that is not himself, that is outside the
region of his free will and choice. He is not strong enough, and
should not feel himself strong enough, to trust to the
self-conscious strength of his own intelligence. Authority--an
authority that is the same for all--must be his guide. Rationalism
is dead. In the last years of the second century a religious
reaction begins to assert itself and makes itself felt more and more
in the period that follows. Philosophy itself becomes at last a
religion, drawing its nourishment from surmise and revelation. The
invisible world wins the day over the meagre present, so grievously
bound down by the limitation of mere experience. No longer does the
soul await with courage and calmness whatever may be hidden behind
the dark curtain of death. Life seemed to need something to complete
it. And how faded and grey life had become[171\15]--a rejuvenation
upon this earth seemed to be out of the question. All the more
complete, in consequence, is the submission that throws itself with
closed eyes and eager yearning upon another world, situated now far
beyond the limits of the known or knowable world of the living.
Hopes and a vague longing, a shrinking before the mysterious terrors
of the unknown, fill the soul. Never in the history of the ancient
world is the belief in an immortal life of the soul after death a
matter of such burning and exacerbated ardour as in these last days
when the antique civilization was preparing itself to breathe its
last.
Hopes of immortality, widely espoused by the masses and fed rather
on faith than on reflexion, sought satisfaction in the brilliant
ceremonial of religions that easily outshone the simple worship of
every day officially undertaken by the city. In these new rites the
worshippers united in the secret cult seemed to be placed more
directly in the hands of the gods; and, above all, a blessed
existence hereafter was assured to pious {546} believers. In these
days the ancient and hallowed mysteries of Eleusis awake to a new
life and remain in vigorous activity till nearly the end of the
fourth century.[172\15] Orphic conventicles must have attracted
worshippers for ages;[173\15] the Hellenized Orient was familiar
with many such orgiastic cults.
In the mixed populations of the East the new religions proved more
attractive to the Greeks, too, than their old worship of the gods of
Greece. Clear and definite obligations, fixed commandments and
dogmas, holding the weak and frail individual in their stronger
embrace, seemed to belong more peculiarly to these foreign worships
than to the old beliefs of Greece. Rigid and unalterable maintenance
of primitive ideas and practices seemed to give the former the stamp
of sacred and certain knowledge. From all men they demanded perfect
submission to the God and his priests; perfect renunciation of the
world, conceived as dualistically opposed to the divine; the purging
away of the contamination of its lusts by purifications and
sanctifications, ceremonial expiations and asceticisms. By these
means the faithful prepared themselves for the highest reward that
piety could conceive; an unending life of bliss far away from this
unclean world in the realm of the holy and the consecrated. To the
belief in a blessed immortality these foreign mysteries contributed
their much desired support; and the populace welcomed their message
of salvation with all the greater eagerness since their varied and
impressive ceremonial contrasted so strikingly with the plain and
homely worship of the Greek gods. In the symbolism of these exotic
cults men seemed to discern a mysterious and secret knowledge; and
to the divine figures illuminated by such a halo were easily
attributed strange and magical powers beyond belief or experience.
The cult of the Egyptian deities had long been familiar both in the
East and in the West, and they maintained and extended their
influence down to the last days of the ancient religions. The
Phrygian deities, the Thraco-Phrygian cults of Sabazios, Attis, and
Kybele, and the Persian worship of Mithras were later comers, but
they, too, took equally firm root and spread over the whole extent
of the empire.[174\15]
The higher culture of these last centuries, having become credulous
and avid of marvels, no longer looked with contempt upon the means
of salvation and sanctification which had once been left almost
entirely to the lower orders of the population. The most cultivated
and educated people of these times used their culture and their
education simply to justify everything mysterious and
incomprehensible in itself--even {547} when it was expressed in the
most physical symbolism. The newly awakened religious interest of
the populace had coincided with a return on the part of philosophy
to the teaching of Plato; a teaching which itself tended towards
religion. Platonism had invaded the doctrine of other schools at
many points, and it had already acquired a new home for itself in
the restored Academy, where once an un-Platonic Scepticism had
overthrown the teaching of the master. Now a new Platonism comes
forward and overwhelms all the other schools of philosophy.
Absorbing the doctrines of Aristotle and Chrysippos (which it
fancied it could reconcile with Platonism), it weaved them into its
own special teaching so that the whole presented a subtle and
far-reaching system of thought. The speculative system of
Neoplatonism, into which the old age of Greece, in spite of its
weariness, contrived to introduce so much profundity, spirit, and
ingenuity (together with a luxuriant mass of scholastic folly),
fills the history of the last centuries of Greek thought. Its
fundamental tendency is, once more, a turning away from the life of
nature, and a determined invasion of a transcendent world of pure
spirit; and it was by this tendency that it satisfied the needs of
its time. The Sole and First Cause, lying beyond all being and
continually expressing itself in creative emanations, yet never
troubled or impaired in its perfect and eternal transcendency; the
development, in an unbroken process from this One, of the world of
thinking, of the Ideas and pure thought preserved in it--the world
of Spirit and the world of Matter--until at last, in longing and
desire,[175\15] all things created return to the origin of all
Being: to describe and express all this is the single theme,
persisting throughout all variations, of this philosophy. The whole
fabric of reality, the interplay of cause and effect, depends upon
the inherence of the thing caused in its Cause from which it takes
its origin and to which it returns at last. That which in the
evolution of nature takes its origin from the One, and degenerates
more and more completely, in the darkness and corruption of Matter,
as it gets further away from its source--now becomes Man and seeks
in morality and religion a conscious return to the pure and
everlasting and unfailing One. The divine does not descend to earth
and man must reach upwards to the divine heights in order to unite
himself with the One that is before all multiplicity. This union can
be brought about by the pure exercise of the human reason, but also
in the mysterious harmony of the individual life with the First
Cause that is beyond all reason in the ecstasy {548} that is above
all rationality. It can be achieved when at last the whole series of
rebirths has been passed through, whereupon the pure soul, the
divine in man, enters into the divinity of the Whole.[176\15]
To fly from the world--not to work within the world to produce
something better--is the teaching and injunction of this last Greek
philosophy. Away from separate, divided Being, upward towards the
uninterrupted glory of the One divine life, the soul wings its way.
The world, this visible world of matter, is fair, says Plotinos, for
it is the work and image of the divine, present and working in it. A
last gleam of the departing sunlight of Greek sensibility seems to
break through the words in which Plotinos rejects the
Christian-Gnostic hatred of the world.[177\15] The ugly, he says, is
strange and contrary to God as well as to Nature.[178\15] But the
soul must no longer rest in the world of created beauty.[179\15] The
soul is so profoundly conscious of its derivation from the
supra-sensual, of its divinity and eternity, that it must rise above
all created being and reach out to the One that was before the world
and remains for ever outside the world.[180\15]
This philosophy, profoundly estranged though it was from the old
Greek attitude to life with its enjoyment of the world, nevertheless
felt itself called upon to oppose the rising tide of the new and
irresistible religion. It took under its protection the ancient
Greek culture and the ancient faith that was so inseparably bound up
with that culture. Its most convinced supporters, with the last of
the Emperors of the old faith at their head, threw themselves
whole-heartedly into the fray. And before them rode the Genius of
ancient Hellas, and the old beliefs of Greece. But when the battle
had been fought and lost it became apparent to all the world that it
was a corpse that rode before the exalted combatants, like the body
of the dead Cid Campeador fastened upon his horse and leading his
hosts against the Moors. The ancient religion of Greece, and with it
the whole civilized life of the Greek world, faded and died at that
discovery, and could not be recalled to life. A newer faith, very
differently endowed and having power to crush the heavily laden soul
and point it upwards in absolute submission to the divine
compassion, held the field. The new world that was coming into being
had need of it.
And yet--was Greece quite extinguished and dead for ever? Much--only
too much--of the philosophy of its old age lived on in the
speculative system of the Christian faith. And in the whole of
modern culture so far as it has built itself upon {549} Christianity
or by extension from it, in all modern science and art, not a little
survives of Greek genius and Greek inspiration. The outward
embodiment of Hellas is gone; its spirit is imperishable. Nothing
that has once been alive in the spiritual life of man can ever
perish entirely; it has achieved a new form of existence in the
consciousness of mankind--an immortality of its own. Not always in
equal measure, nor always in the same place, does the stream of
Greek thought rise to the surface in the life of mankind. But it is
a river that never quite runs dry; it vanishes, to reappear; it
buries itself to emerge again. _Desinunt ista, non pereunt._
NOTES TO CHAPTER XIV
PART II
[1\15: See above, chap. v, p. 162 f.]
[2\15: Lucian 50, _De Luctu_: washing, anointing, crowning of the
dead body, ~pro/thesis~: c. 11. Violent dirge-singing over the dead,
12; accompanied by the ~aulo/s~, 19; and led by a special singer
~thrênô=n sophistê/s~, 20. Special lament by the father, 13. The
dead is before them with jaws tied up and so secured against
unsightly gaping--19 fin. (a stronger form of the Homeric ~su/n te
sto/m' erei/dein~, ~l~ 426). For this purpose narrow bands are drawn
round the chin, cheeks, and forehead of the dead man. We sometimes
see them represented on vases depicting a lying-in-state, and they
have also been found sometimes in graves in which case they have
been made of metal (gold or lead): see Wolters, _Ath. Mitth._ 1896,
p. 367 ff. ~esthê/s, ko/smos~ (even including horses and slaves)
burnt or buried in company with the dead for his pleasure, 14.
~obolo/s~ given to the dead, 10. The dead fed by ~choai/~ and
~kathagi/smata~, 9. The gravestone crowned; sprinkled with
~a/kratos~; burnt offering, 19. ~peri/deipnon~ after a three days'
fast, 24.]
[3\15: From a rather earlier period we hear that it is a bad thing
to be dead ~mê\ tucho/nta tô=n nomi/môn~--it is an infamous deed for
the son to deny his father ~ta\ nomizo/mena~ after death; Din.,
_Aristog._ viii, 18; cf. [D.] 25, 54.--The dead man says with
satisfaction ~pa/nth' ho/sa toi=s chrêstoi=s phthime/nois no/mos
esti\ gene/sthai tô=nde tuchô\n kagô\ to/nde ta/phon kate/chô~,
_Epigr. Gr._, 137; cf. 153, 7-8.]
[4\15: ~homo/taphoi~ are mentioned among other associations as
occurring in a Solonian law: _Digest._ 47, 22, 4. These would
probably be special _collegia funeraticia_ (at any rate societies of
which the exclusive or essential bond of union consisted in ~homou=
taphê=nai~--and not, therefore, any of the ordinary ~thi/asoi~ or
any "gentilician association" as Ziebarth thinks, _Gr.
Vereinswesen_, p. 17 [1896]). There are also traces (but not very
frequent) of common burial grounds belonging to ~thi/asoi~; e.g. in
Kos, _Inscr. Cos_, 155-9. ~eranistai/~ bury their dead member,
_CIA._ ii, 3308; ~summu/stai~ do the same, _Ath. Mitt._ ix, 35. A
member contributes as ~tami/as~ of the _collegium_ out of his own
means, for the benefit of dead members of an ~e/ranos, eis tê\n
taphê/n, tou= euschêmonei=n autou\s kai\ teteleutêko/tas ktl.~,
_CIA._ ii, 621 (about 150 B.C.). Another ~tami/as de/dôken toi=s
metalla/xasin (thiasô/tais) ta\ taphiko\n parachrê=ma~ ins. from
Attica, third century B.C. _CIA._ iv, 2, 623b; cf. ib., 615b, l.
14-15; Rhod. inscr. in _BCH._ iv, 138. Dionysiastai, Athenaistai in
Tanagra ~e/thapsan to\n dei=na~: _GDI._ 960-2 (_IG. Sept._ i,
685-9). The Iobakchai in Athens (third century A.D.) offer a crown
and wine at the burial of a member: _Ath. Mitt._ 1894, 261, l. 158
ff. ~hoi thi/asoi pa/ntes~ and even ~hoi e/phêboi kai\ hoi ne/oi, ho
dê=mos, hê gerousi/a~ erect the monument, _CIG._ 3101, 3112. (Teos)
~sunodei=tai~ bury together the members of their ~su/nodoi~, _IPE._
ii, 60-5. A gymnasiarch also undertakes ~tô=n ekkomidô=n
epime/leian~, _Inscr. Perg._, ii, 252, l. 16; noteworthy also is ii,
374 B, l. 21-5. A few more exx. are given by E. Loch, _Zu d. griech.
Grabschriften_ (_Festschr. Friedländer_, 1895), p. 288.] {551}
[5\15: ~dêmosi/a taphê/~ frequently. Resolution ~pandêmei\
parape/mpsasthai to\ sô=ma tou= dei=nos epi\ tê\n kêdei/an autou=~,
inscr. of Amorgos, _BCH._ 1891, p. 577 (l. 26); p. 586 (l. 17 ff.).
Resolution of the council and people of Olbia (first century B.C.):
when the body of a certain deserving citizen who has died abroad is
brought into the city, all workshops are to close, the citizens
wearing black shall follow his ~ekphora/~; an equestrian statue of
the dead man to be erected and every year at the ~hippodromi/ai~ of
Achilles the golden crown granted to the dead man to be proclaimed,
etc.: _IPE._ i, 17, 22 ff.--Honour paid to a dead man by granting a
golden crown, _CIG._ 3185; cf. Cic., _Flac._ 75. This example comes
from Smyrna, where such honours were particularly common: see Böckh
on _CIG._ 3216. Frequent on Asia Minor inss.: ~ha po/lis~ sc.
~stephanoi=, e/thapsen, to\n dei=na. ho da=mos tô=| dei=ni~, sc.
~ane/thêke~, on graves: see esp. G. Hirschfeld, _Greek Inscr. in
Brit. Mus._ iv, 1, p. 34. More ap. Loch, op. cit., p. 287.]
[6\15: This seems to have been particularly common in Amorgos; cf.
_CIG._ 2264b: four inss. from Amorgos. _BCH._ 1891, p. 574 (153-4
B.C.), 577, 586 (242 B.C.), 588 f. The Council of the Areopagos and
the people of Athens decree the erection of a statue in honour of a
young man of rank (T. Statilius Lamprias) who has died ~pro\ hô/ras~
in Epidauros, and also the dispatch of envoys to ~paramuthê/sasthai
apo\ tou= tê=s po/leôs ono/matos~ his parents and his grandfather
Lamprias. In the same way the citizens of Sparta send an embassy of
sympathy and consolation to other relatives of the same youth (first
century A.D.), _Fouil. d'Epidaur._ i, 205-9, pp. 67-70. Honorific
decree of council and people of Corinth for the same person, ~Eph.
Arch.~, 1894, p. 15. ~_psêphi/smata paramuthêtika/_~ of two Lydian
cities at the death of a man of rank (first century A.D.), _Anz.
Wien. Ak._, Phil. Hist. Cl., 16th Nov., 1893 (n. 24) = _Ath. Mitt._
1894, p. 102 f.; cf. Paros, _CIG._ 2383 (the council and people
decree the erection of a statue to a dead boy ~epi\ me/rous
paramuthêso/menoi to\n pate/ra~); Aphrodisias in Karia, _CIG._ 277b,
2775b-d; Neapolis, _CIG._ 5836 = _IG. Sic. It._ 758.--The grounds of
consolation, so far as they are alluded to, are regularly
independent of any theological teaching: ~phe/rein summe/trôs ta\
tê=s lu/pês eido/tas ho/ti aparai/têto/s estin hê epi\ pa/ntôn
anthrô/pôn moi=ra~ and the like (~phe/rein to\ sumbebêko\s
anthrôpi/nôs~, _F. d'Epid._ i, 209). We are reminded of the
~paramuthêtikoi\ lo/goi~ of the philosophers which are literary
expressions of these consolations--the philosophers in fact were
expected _ex officio_ to offer such consolations to the mourners,
cf. Plu., _Superst._ 186 C; D. Chr. 27, § 9 (ii, 285 Arn.).]
[7\15: In spite of any brevity in the narrative the fact of ritual
burial is regularly alluded to (as an important circumstance) in the
romance of Xen. Eph. and in the _Historia Apollonii_: _Griech.
Roman_, 391, 3; 413, 1.]
[8\15: At Athens his friend vainly tries to obtain burial _intra
urbem_ for the murdered Marcellus: quod religione se impediri
dicerent; neque id antea cuiquam concesserunt (while in Rome people
were occasionally buried in the city in spite of the prohibition of
the XII tables: Cic., _Lg._ ii, 58): Servius to Cicero, _Fam._ 4,
12, 3 (45 B.C.). There it was permitted uti in quo vellent gymnasio
eum sepelirent and finally his body was cremated and the remains
buried in nobilissimo orbis terraram gymnasio, the Academy.
~entapha\ kai\ the/sis tou= sô/matos en tô=| gumnasi/ô|~ (of an
aristocratic Roman) in Kyme: _GDI._ 311. To a living benefactor of
that city ~sunechôrê/thê kai\ entaphê=nai~ (in the future) ~en tô=|
gumnasi/ô|~, _CIG._ 279b (Aphrodisias in Karia). As a special mark of
honour paid to a benefactor of the city it is permitted that his
body in oppidum introferatur (into Smyrna: Cic., _Flac._ 75),
~entapha\ kata\ po/lin kai\ {552} tapha\ dêmosi/a, entapha\ kata\
po/lin en tô=| episamota/tô| tou= gumnasi/ou to/pô|~, Knidos, _GDI._
3501, 3502 (time of Augustus). The city buries a youth ~gumna/dos en
teme/nei~, _Epigr. Gr._ 222 (Amorgos).--Ulpian, _Dig._ 47, 12, 3, 5,
implies the possibility that lex municipalis permittat in civitate
sepeleri.]
[9\15: ~sê=ma~, i.e. probably grave and monument, of Messia set up
by her husband in his own house: _Epigr. Gr._ 682 (Rome).]
[10\15: Thus _Inscr. Perg._ ii, 590, ~zô=n ho dei=na kateskeu/ase
to\ mnêmei=on tê=| idi/a| ma/mmê| . . . kai\ tô=| pa/ppô|, heautô=|,
gunaiki/, te/knois, ekgo/nois anexallotri/ôton he/ôs diadochê=s
ktl.~ Similar directions, ib., n. 591, and frequently. The series
includes the old and traditional circle of the ~_agchistei=s_~: see
above, chap. v, nn. 141 and 146 (where ~me/chri anepsiadô=n pai/dôn~
should be read).]
[11\15: There was even a Solonian law against violation and plunder
of tombs: Cic., _Lg._ ii, 64. The specially invented word
~tumbôru/chos~ shows that such practices were frequent at a quite
early period; cf. ~sêma/tôn phô=ra~, Herond. v, 57. Complaint on
account of the rifling of a tomb: Egypt, papyr. of 127 B.C.,
_Notices et extraits_, xviii, 2, p. 161 f. Frequent rescripts of
emperors of the fourth century against the profanation of graves,
_Cod. Theod._ ix, 17. But even emperors of second and third
centuries had to deal with the subject: _Dig._ 47, 12, and cf.
Paul., _Sent._ 1, 21, 4 ff.; _sepulchri violati actio_, Quint.,
_Decl._ 299, 369, 373. Grave-thieves were a favourite character in
romance: e.g. ap. Xen. Eph., Chariton and others. Epigram of Greg.
Naz. on the subject of looted graves, _Anth. Pal._ viii, 176 ff.
From the fourth century the Christians in particular seem to have
been a danger to heathen burial places (cf. Gothofred., ad _Cod.
Theod._ iii, p. 150 Ritt.)--in fact, ecclesiastics were specially
given to grave-robbery: _Novell. Valentin._ 5 (p. 111 Ritt.),
Cassiod., _Var._ iv, 18; _bustuarii latrones_ (Amm. Marc. 28, 1,
12), were then frequent. An Egyptian anchorite had at an earlier
period become latronum maximus et sepulchrorum violator: Rufin.,
_Vit. Patr._ 9 (p. 446b Rossw.).]
[12\15: Inscrr. indicating such sepulchral penalties are rare on the
mainland of Greece, common in Thrace and the Greek cities of Asia
Minor, but most frequent of all in Lykia. Most of them belong to the
Roman period, but also appeal occasionally to ~to\n tê=s asebei/as
no/mon~ of the city (cf. also Korkyra. _CIG._ 1933); or refer to the
~e/gklêma tumbôruchi/as~ as though it were a local process of law
which had perhaps been confirmed by an Imperial ordinance
(~hupeu/thunos e/stô toi=s diata/gmasi kai\ toi=s patri/ois
no/mois~, inscr. from Tralles: see Hirschfeld, p. 121). They
therefore cannot be simply borrowed from the Roman custom, but
belong to the old law of the country esp. in Lykia where a similar
prescription has been found dating from the third century B.C.:
_CIG._ 4529; see Hirschfeld, _Königsb. Stud._ i, pp. 85-144
(1887)--doubt is thrown on the legal validity of the penal clauses
in such inscrr. by J. Merkel, _Festg. f. Ihering_, p. 109 ff.
(1892).]
[13\15: Curses directed against those who bury unauthorized persons
in a grave or damage the monument are rare in European Greece: e.g.
Aegina, _CIG._ 2140b; Thessaly, _BCH._ xv, 568; Athens, _CIA._
1417-28; among these is a Thessalian grave, 1427; a Christian, 1428;
1417-22 are set up by Herodes Atticus to Apia Regilla and
Polydeukion (cf. K. Keil, Pauly-Wiss. i, 2101), but his coquetting
with the cult of the ~chtho/nioi~ proves nothing for the common
opinion of his fellow citizens. Sepulchral curses are particularly
common in inss. from Lykia and Phrygia; also Cilicia, _JHS._ 1891,
p. 228, 231, 267; a few also from Halikarnassian graves; Samos,
_CIG._ 2260.--The {553} grave and its peace are placed under the
care of the underworld deities in these inss.: ~paradi/dômi toi=s
katachthoni/ois theoi=s tou=to to\ hêrô=|on phula/ssein ktl.~,
_CIA._ iii, 1423-4. Cf. also a Cretan inscr. _Ath. Mitt._ 1893, p.
211. Whoever introduces a stranger into the grave or damages the
grave ~_asebê\s_ e/stô theoi=s katachthoni/ois~ (thus in Lykia,
_CIG._ 4207; 4290; 4292), ~asebê/sei ta\ peri\ tou\s theou/s te kai\
thea\s pa/sas kai\ hê/rôas pa/ntas~ (from Itonos in Phthiotis,
_BCH._ xv, 568). ~_hamartôlo\s_ e/stô theoi=s katachthoni/ois~,
_CIG._ 4252b, 4259, 4300e, i, k, v, 4307, 4308; _BCH._ 1894, p. 326
(n. 9)--all from Lykia. (The formula occurs already in a Lyk. inscr.
of 240 B.C.; _BCH._ 1890, p. 164: ~hamartôloi\ e/stôsan~--the
archons and citizens who neglect to offer the yearly sacrifice to
Zeus Soter--~theô=n pa/ntôn kai\ apotine/tô ho a/rchôn ktl.~, which
thus corresponds exactly with the oldest Lyk. inscr. with sepulchral
penalty, _CIG._ 4259). ~e/stô _hiero/sulos_ theoi=s ourani/ois kai\
katachthoni/ois~, _CIG._ 4253 (Pinara in Lykia). This must mean: he
shall be regarded as having transgressed the _law_ against
~ase/beia, hierosuli/a~ (cf. ~_hoi no/moi_ hoi peri\ hierosu/lou~,
Teos, _SIG._ 523, 51), ~tumbôruchi/a~, having at the same time
offended against the gods (see Hirschfeld, op. cit., p. 120 f.).
More particular is another Lyk. ins.: ~hamartôlo\s e/stô theô=n
pa/ntôn kai\ Lêtou=s kai\ tô=n te/knôn~ (as the special gods of the
country), _CIG._ 4259, 4303, (iii, p. 1138), 4303 e^3 (p. 1139). In
Cilicia ~e/stô êsebêkô\s e/s te to\n Di/a kai\ tê\n Selê/nên~,
_JHS._ xii, 231. Phrygian: ~kecholôme/non e/choito Mê=na
katachtho/nion~, _BCH._ 1886, p. 503, 6; cf. ~enorkizo/metha Mê=na
katachtho/nion eis tou=to mnêmei=on mêde/na eiselthei=n~, _Amer.
School at Athens_ iii, 174. The same is intended by the peculiarly
Phrygian denunciation ~e/stô autô=| pro\s to\n theo\n, pro\s tê\n
chei=ra tou= theou=, pro\s to\ me/ga o/noma tou= theou=~, _CIG._
3872b (p. 1099), 3890, 3902 f.o., 3963: _Amer. School_ iii, 411;
_BCH._ 1893, p. 246 ff. That these are Christian formulae--as
Ramsay, _JHS._ iv, p. 400 f., supposes--is hardly likely. Equally
unlikely in the case of 3902r (Franz rightly protests against the
idea): ~e/stai autô=| pro\s to\n zô=nta theo/n~ (the same occurs
again in a decisively non-Christian sense: _BCH._ 1893, p. 241)
~kai\ nu=n kai\ en tô=| krisi/mô| hême/ra| (kri/sis~ apparently =
death in _CIG._ 6731, from Rome, which, considering the words
~a/galma eimi Hêli/ou~, can hardly be Christian). ~tê=s tou= theou=
orgê=s methe/xetai~, _CIA._ iii, 1427. Obscure threat: ~ou ga\r mê\
sunei/kê| . . .~, _CIG._ 2140b (Aegina. The profaner of graves is
cursed in more detail: ~tou/tô| mê\ gê= batê/, mê\ tha/lassa plôtê/,
alla\ ekreizôthê/setai pagge/nei~ (the ~arai/~ on the mss. of Herod.
Att. agree so far at least in intention, _CIA._ iii, 1417-22).
~pa=si toi=s kakoi=s pei=ran dô/sei, kai\ phrei/kê| kai\ puretô=|
kai\ tetartai/ô| kai\ ele/phanti ktl.~, _CIA._ iii, 1423-4 (similar
curse on a lead tablet from Crete: _Ath. Mitt._ 1893, p. 211). The
first half of this imprecation represents the regular formula in
such ~arai/~ and ~ho/rkoi--mê\ gê= batê/ ktl.~; cf. Wünsch,
_Defix._, p. vii, and a Jewish-Greek inscr. from Euboea: ~Eph.
Arch.~, 1892, p. 175; it occurs also in _CIG._ 2664, 2667
(Halikarnassos); 4303 (p. 1138 Phrygia. ~dô/sei toi=s
katachthoni/ois theoi=s di/kên~, 4190 (Cappadocia). ~o/rphana te/kna
li/poito, chê=ron bio/n, oi=kon e/rêmon, en puri\ pa/nta da/moito,
kakô=n hu/po chei=ras o/loito~ 3862, 3875, 400 (Phrygia). These are
all peculiarly and originally _Phrygian_; something similar seems to
occur in inss. in the Phrygian language: see _Ztschr. vergl.
Sprachf._ 28, 381 ff.; _BCH._ 1896, p. 111 ff. Phrygian, too, is the
curse ~hou=tos d' aô/rois peripe/soito sumphorai=s~, _Epigr. Gr._,
p. 149, _Amer. Sch. Ath._ ii, 168--i.e. may his children die
~a/ôroi~. (More plainly ~te/knôn aô/rôn peripe/soito sumphora=|~,
_BCH._ 1893, p. 272.) Sometimes the additional phrase is found ~kai\
meta\ tha/naton de\ la/boi tou\s hupochthoni/ous theou\s timôrou\s
kai\ kecholôme/nous~, {554} _CIG._ 3915 (Phrygian). Besides the
common imprecations we also have ~thano/nti de\ oude\ hê gê=
pare/xei autô=| ta/phon~, 2826 (Aphrodisias in Karia); ~mê/te
ourano\s tê\n psuchê\n autou= parade/xaito~, _Am. Sch. Ath._ iii,
411 (Pisidia). Barbarous in the extreme is an inscr. from Cilicia
(_JHS._ 1891, p. 287): ~he/xei pa/nta ta\ thei=a kecholôme/na kai\
ta\s stugera\s Ereinu/as kai\ idi/ou te/knou hê/patos
geu/setai~.--With these grave-imprecations we may compare also the
threats uttered against those who shall neglect the directions for
the honouring of King Antiochos of Kommagene who lies buried in his
~hierothe/sion~ (ib, 13; iiib, 3: hence correct ~hierothu/sion~ in
Paus. 4, 32, 1) on the Nemrud Dagh: ~eido/tas ho/ti chalepê\
ne/mesis basilikô=n daimo/nôn, timôro\s homoi/ôs ameli/as te kai\
hu/breôs, ase/beian diô/kei kathôsiôme/nôn te hêrô/ôn ateimasthei\s
no/mos aneila/tous e/chei poina/s. ta\ me\n ga\r ho/sion ha/pan
koupho\n e/rgon, tê=s de\ asebei/as opisthobarei=s anagkai/~ (iiia,
22 ff., _Ber. Berl. Akad._ 1883).]
[14\15: From the point of view of religion, at any rate, it is true,
though with considerable reservations, that most of the Greeks and
Macedonians scattered over Asia and Egypt in _coloniae_, in Syros
Parthos Aegyptios degenerarunt, Liv. 38, 17, 11-12. The only
non-Greek nation (apart from the Romans) which learnt anything from
the Greeks or from the semi-religious Greek philosophy was the
Jewish--at once the most stubborn and the most pliable of them all.]
[15\15: At a quite late period, in order to explain the impiety of
grave-robbing, Valentinian says (following the libri veteris
sapientiae quite as much as Christian teaching) licet occasus
necessitatem mens divina (of man) non sentiat, amant tamen animae
sedem corporum relictorum et nescio qua sorte rationis occultae
sepulchri honore laetantur (_Nov. Valent._ v, p. 111 Ritt.).]
[16\15: After the reception of the last person who has a right there
~apoierô=sthai to\n pla/tan, aphêrôï/sthai to\ mnêmei=on~, _CIG._
2827, 2834. ~korakôthê/setai~, i.e. it will be finally shut up:
3919.]
[17\15: ~epea\n de\ toi=s kamou=sin egchutlô/sômen~, Herond. v, 84
(i.e. at the end of the month: festival of the dead at the
~triaka/des~, see above, chap. v, n. 88. ~hême/ras lêgou/sês kai\
mêno\s phthi/nontos eiô/thasin enagi/zein hoi polloi/~, Plu., _Q.
Rom._ 34, p. 272 D). Offerings to the dead at the grave: see besides
Luc., _Charon_, 22.]
[18\15: Epikteta: see above, chap. v, n. 126. Traces of a similar
foundation on an inscr. from Thera ap. Ross, _Inscr. Gr._ 198 (ii,
p. 81).--Otherwise the son will perhaps offer to his father ~tê\n
taphê\n kai\ _to\n enagismo/n_~ (_CIG._ 1976, Thessalonike; 3645
Lampsakos)--~to\ hêrô=|on kateskeu/asen eis aiô/nion mnê/mên kai\
tê=| meta\ tha/naton aphôsiôme/nê| thrêskei/a|~ (_CIG._ 4224d, iii,
p. 1119 Lykia). A dead man has left the council of a city a sum of
money for a ~stephanôtiko/n~ (_CIG._ 3912, 3916 Hierapolis in
Phrygia); i.e. in order that his grave may be crowned every year from
the interest of the money: 3919. Another man leaves money to a
society to celebrate his memory yearly by holding a ~euôchi/a~ with
~oinoposi/a~ illumination and crowns: 3028 Ephesos. An annual feast
in honour of a dead man's memory on his ~gene/thlios hême/ra~: 3417
Philadelphia in Lydia (this is the proper day for a feast of the
dead: see above, chap. v, n. 89). Annual memorial in the month
~Huaki/nthios~ for a dead ~archieranistê/s~ in Rhodos,
~anago/reusis~ of his crowns of honour and crowning of his
~mnêmei=on~, regular ~anago/reusis ta=n tima=n en tai=s suno/dois~
(of the ~e/ranos~) ~kai\ tai=s _epichu/sesin_~ (second century
B.C.), _IGM. Aeg._ i, 155, l. 53 ff., 67 ff. Another foundation, in
Elatea (_BCH._ x, 382), seems to have been much more elaborate in
intention and to have included the sacrifice of a bull, as well as
~euôchi/a~ and an ~agô/n~.] {555}
[19\15: ~ta/phos, deuo/menos gera/ôn~, inscr. from Athens (second
century A.D.): _Ath. Mitt._ 1892, p. 272, l. 6. ~the/lgein psuchê\n
tethnêko/tos andro/s~ by libations at the grave: _Epigr. Gr._ 120,
9-10.]
[20\15: The ~_apo/taphoi_~: this is the name given to those
~apesterême/noi tô=n progonikô=n ta/phôn~, _EM._ 131, 44. They even
had a burial place of their own: ~apota/phôn ta/phôn~ on a marble
vase from Rhodos, _IGM. Aeg._ i, 656.]
[21\15: This ~chai=re~ repeats the last farewell which accompanied
the removal of the body from the house (Eur., _Alc._ 626 f.). Cf.
~chai=re/ moi ô= Pa/trokle kai\ ein Aï/dao do/moisin~, the words
with which Achilles (~Ps~ 179) addresses his dead friend lying upon
the funeral pyre. So too on tombstones ~chai=re~ must be intended to
suggest the continued sympathy of the survivors and the appreciation
by the dead of that sympathy. Does it also imply veneration of the
departed as ~krei/ttôn~? Gods and Heroes were also addressed with
this word: cf. ~chai=r' a/nax Hêra/klees~, etc.--The passer-by calls
out ~chai=re~: ~chai/rete hê/rôes. ho para/gôn se aspa/zetai~, _Ath.
Mitt._ ix, 263; and cf. _Epigr. Gr._ 218, 17-18; 237, 7-8; cf. Loch,
op. cit., 278 f.]
[22\15: ~chai/rete~ is said by the dead man to the living; Böckh on
_CIG._ 3775 (ii, p. 968); cf. ~chaire/tô ho anagnou/s~, _IG. Sic. et
It._ [_IG._ xiv] 350.]
[23\15: ~chai/rete hê/rôes. chai=re kai\ su\ kai\ euo/dei~, _CIG._
1956 (more given by Böckh, ii, p. 50; see also on 3278); _Inscr.
Cos_, 343; _IG. Sic. et It._ 60, 319; _BCH._ 1893-4, 242 (5), 249
(22), 528 (24), 533 (36); specially noteworthy is p. 529 (28),
~Leu/kie Liki/nie chai=re. ke\ su/ ge ô= parodei=ta "chai/rois ho/ti
tou=to to\ semno\n | ei=pas emoi\ chai/rein hei/neken eusebi/ês"~.
To call upon the dead is an act of ~euse/beia~.]
[24\15: At the burial of a woman who is being given a public funeral
~epebo/ase ho da=mos tri\s to\ o/noma auta=s~, _GDI._ 3504 (Knidos;
in the time of Trajan). In the same way the name of the ~hê/rôs~ was
called out three times at a sacrifice in his honour: see above,
chap. iv, n. 62.]
[25\15: Tombstone of Q. Marcius Strato (circ. second century A.D.),
_Ath. Mitt._ 1892, p. 272, l. 5 ff. ~toi/gar ho/soi Bromi/ô|
Paphi/ê| te ne/oi meme/lêsthe, deuo/menon gera/ôn mê\ maranei=sthe
ta/phon; alla\ parastei/chontes ê\ ou/noma kleino\n homartê=|
bôstre/et' ê\ rhadina\s sumpatagei=te che/ras~. Those who are thus
charged answer, ~prosenne/pô Stra/tôna kai\ timô= kro/tô|~.]
[26\15: Often represented on Attic _lekythoi_: Pottier, _Les
lécythes blancs_, p. 57.]
[27\15: The gods and their statues are honoured in this way: Sittl,
_Gebärden_, p. 182.]
[28\15: ~belti/ones kai\ krei/ttones~, Arist., _Eudem. fr._ 37
[44].]
[29\15: ~chrêstou\s _poiei=n_~ euphemism for ~apoktinnu/nai~ in a
treaty between Tegea and Sparta: Arist., _fr._ 542 [592]. They
_become_ ~chrêstoi/~ only after death. This ancient and evidently
popular expression gives far stronger grounds for believing that
~chrêsto/s~ applied to the dead than does the passage from Thphr.,
_Ch. _x, 16 (xiii, 3), for the opposite view (the ~peri/ergos~
writes on a tombstone that a dead woman and her family ~chrêstoi\
ê=san~, which Loch concludes that the word really "denotes a quality
of the living and not of the dead", op. cit., 281). It is possible
at the same time that those who used such words did not mean
anything special by their ~chrêste\ chai=re~, and at any rate only
thought of it as a vague adjective of praise. But that was not its
real meaning.]
[30\15: ~chrêste\ chai=re~ and the like, with or without ~hê/rôs~,
are very commonly met with on epitaphs from Thessaly, Boeotia, the
countries of Asia Minor (and Cyprus as well: cf. _BCH._ 1896, pp.
343-6; 353-6). On {556} Attic graves the use of the title
~chrêsto/s~ seems to be confined to foreigners and those mostly
slaves (see Keil, _Jahrb. Phil._ suppl. iv, 628; Gutscher, _Att.
Grabinschr._ i, p. 24; ii, p. 13).]
[31\15: With Gutscher, op. cit., i, 24; ii, 39.--From the fact that
in Attica this word does not seem to be given to natives no
conclusion is to be drawn as to the opinions held by the Athenians
about their dead (as though they thought of them with less respect).
The word was simply not traditional in this sense in Attica. On the
other hand, the word ~makari/tês~ was specifically Attic as applied
to the dead (see above, ch. vii, n. 10), and this provides
unmistakable evidence that the conception of the dead as "blessed"
was current also in Attica.]
[32\15: ~chrêstô=n _theô=n_~, Hdt. viii, 111.--~ho hê/rôs~
(Protesilaos), ~chrêsto\s ô/n, xugchôrei=~ that people should sit
down in his ~te/menos~: Philostr., _Her._ p. 134, 4 Ks.--Other modes
of address intended to mollify the dead are ~a/lupe, chrêste\ kai\
a/lupe, a/riste, a/mempte~, etc. ~chai=re~ (cf. _Inscr. Cos_, 165,
263, 279, and Loch, op. cit., 281).]
[33\15: Paus. 4, 27, 6.]
[34\15: Paus. 4, 32, 4.]
[35\12: Paus. 9, 13, 5-6. Sacrifice (~ente/mnein~) of a white mare
to the Heroines: Plu., _Pelop._ 20-2. The same thing is briefly
referred to in Xen., _HG._ 6, 4, 7; see also D.S. xv, 54. Detailed
account of the fate of the maidens ap. Plu., _Narr. Amor._ 3;
Jerome, _a. Jovin._ i, 41 (ii, 1, 308 D Vall.).--~hai Leu/ktron
thugate/res~, Plu., _Herod. Mal._ ii, p. 856 F.]
[36\15: ~Leôni/deia~ in Sparta (_CIG._ 1421) at which there were
"speeches" about Leonidas (even in Sparta not a surprising
circumstance at this late period), and an ~agô/n~ in which only
Spartiates might take part: Paus. 3, 14, 1.--~agônisa/menoi to\n
epita/phio[n Leôni/dou] kai\ Pausani/[ou kai\ tô=n loi]pô=n hêrô/ô[n
agô=na]~, _CIG._ 1417.]
[37\15: At Marathon: crowning and ~enagismo/s~ at the
~polua/ndreion~ of the Marathonian Heroes carried out by the
_epheboi_: _CIA._ ii, 471, 26. Cf. more generally Aristid. ii, p.
229 f. Dind. Nocturnal fighting of the ghosts there: Paus. 1, 32, 4
(the oldest prototype of the similar legends told, in connexion with
the story of the battle between the dead Huns and Romans, by
Damasc., _V. Isid._ 63).]
[38\15: ~a/ndras] eth' hê/rôas se/betai patri/s ktl.~, _Inscr. Cos_,
350 (beginning of Empire).]
[39\15: Speaking of the Attic tragedians, D. Chr. thinks (15, p. 237
M. = ii, 235 Arn.) ~hou\s ekei=noi apodeiknu/ousin hê/rôas tou/tois
phai/nontai enagi/zontes (hoi He/llênes) hôs hê/rôsin, kai\ ta\
hêrô=|a ekei/nois ô|kodomême/na idei=n e/stin~. But this is only
true in a very limited and qualified sense.]
[40\15: ~He/ktori e/ti thu/ousin en Ili/ô|~, says Luc. (expressly
speaking of his own times), _D. Conc._ 12. Apparition of Hektor in
Troad: Max. Tyr. 15, 7, p. 283 R. Miracles worked: Philostr., _Her._
pass. Hekt. in Thebes: Lyc. 1204 ff.]
[41\15: In the ~Hêrôiko\s~ Philostratos gives plenty of evidence of
this. Most of what he says about the Heroes of the Trojan war is
entirely without traditional basis, but not all of it: and
especially where he speaks (in the first part of the dialogue) of the
appearances and displays of power attributed in his own day to the
Heroes he is far from inventing. (His powers of invention are
exercised particularly in what he says about the events of their
lives where he is expanding or correcting Homer.) Acc. To Philostr.
(_Her._ 681, p. 149, 32 ff. Kays., 1871) ~horô=ntai~--at least by
the shepherds of the Trojan plain--the figures of the Homeric
champions (gigantic in size, pp. 136-40 [667]; ~phai/nontai~ in full
armour, {557} p. 131, 1). Hektor in particular appears, works
miracles, and his statue ~polla\ erga/zetai chrêsta\ koinê=| te kai\
es he/na~, pp. 151-2. Legend about Antilochos, p. 155, 10 ff.
Palamedes appears, p. 154. On the south coast of the Troad opposite
Lesbos he has an ancient temple in which ~thu/ousin~ to him
~xunio/ntes hoi ta\s aktai/as oikou=ntes po/leis~, p. 184, 21 (see
also _V. Ap._ iv, 13). Sacrifice to Palamedes as a Hero, 153, 29
ff.--_Mantic_ power attributed to the ~hê/rôes~, 135, 21 ff.; 148,
20 ff. (to Odysseus in Ithaca, 195, 5 ff.). Hence Protesilaos in
particular, who appears at Elaious in Thrac. Chers. to the
vineyard-keeper into whose mouth Philostr. puts his story, has so
much to say even about what he had not himself seen or experienced.
Protes. is still fully alive (~zê=|~, 130, 23); like Achilles (in
Leuke, etc.) he has his ~hieroi\ dro/moi en hoi=s gumna/zetai~ (131,
31). A vision of Protes. appearing to an enemy makes him blind (132,
9). (To meet a Hero often blinds a mortal, cf. Hdt. vi, 117, and the
case of Stesichoros and the Dioskouroi.) He protects his protégé's
fields from snakes, wild beasts, and everything harmful: 132, 15 ff.
He himself is now ~en Ha/idou~ (when he is with Laodameia), now in
Phthia, and now in the Troad (143, 17 ff.). He appears about midday
(143, 21, 32; cf. Append. vi). At his ancient oracle at Elaious
(mentioned already by Hdt. ix, 116, 120; alluded to by Philostr., p.
141, 12) he dispenses oracles more particularly to the champions of
the great games, the heroes of the age (p. 146, 13 ff., 24 ff., 147,
8 ff., 15 ff.; famous contemporaries are mentioned: Eudaimon of
Alexandria, victor at Olympia in Ol. 237, and Helix well-known from
the ~Gumnastiko/s~). He heals diseases, esp. consumption, dropsy,
ophthalmia, and ague, and he helps people in the pains of love (p.
147, 30 ff.). Prot. also gives oracles in his Phthiotic home Phylake
(where he pays frequent visits), 148, 24 ff.--It is the regular
series of miraculous performances normally attributed to the
~hê/rôes~ of older legends, that Protesilaos carries out here.--On
Mt. Ismaros in Thrace Maron (~Euanthe/os huio/s~, _Od._ ~i~ 197)
appears and ~hora=tai toi=s geôrgoi=s~ to whom he sends rain (149, 3
ff.). Mt. Rhodope in Thrace is haunted (~oikei=~) by Rhesos, who
lives there a life of chivalry, breeding horses, practising his
weapons, and hunting; the woodland animals offer themselves
willingly as sacrifices at his altar; the _heros_ keeps the plague
away from the surrounding ~kô=mai~ (149, 7-19).--The legendary
details from Philostratos here selected for mention may be taken as
really derived from popular tradition (cf. also W. Schmid, _D.
Atticismus_, iv, 572 ff.).]
[42\15: Again in 375 A.D. Achilles preserved Attica from an
earthquake (Zosim. iv, 18); in 396 he kept Alaric away from Athens;
ib., v, 6.]
[43\15: Plu., _Lucull._ 23; App., _Mithr._ 83. Lucullus was Roman
enough to carry off from the inhabitants of Sinope their
much-honoured statue of Autolykos, to which the elaborate cult was
principally attached: ~eti/môn~ Autol. ~hôs theo/n. ê=n de\ kai\
_mantei=on_ autou=~, _Str._ 546.]
[44\15: See above, chap. iv, nn. 119-20.--_Heroon_ of Kyniska
(sister of Agesilaos) in Sparta as victor at Olympos: Paus. 3, 15,
1.]
[45\15: Hero-physicians: see above, chap. iv, § 10. Our knowledge of
the cult and activity of these Heroes is chiefly derived from
evidence from later times.--An evidently late creation is the Hero
Neryllinos in the Troad, of whose worship, healing, and prophetic
powers Athenag., _Apol._ 26, has something to say (Lob. _Agl._
1171). ~ho xe/nos iatro/s~, Toxaris, in Athens: Luc., _Scyth._ 1; 2.
(The special name of the ~xe/nos iatro/s~ may be Lucian's invention,
but not what he tells us of his cult.) There was a permanent cult of
Hippokrates in Kos in the time of Soranos: the Koans offered
sacrifice to him (~enagi/zein~) annually on his birthday {558} (see
above, chap. v, n. 89): Soran. ap. Anon., _V. Hipp._ 450, 13 West.
(miracle at the tomb of Hipp. in Larisa: ib., 451, 55 ff.). The
doctor in Luc., _Philops._ 21, makes an elaborate sacrifice
(something more than ~enagi/zein~) annually to his bronze statue of
Hipp.--A good story thoroughly in the manner of popular folk-lore is
that told of Pellichos the Corinthian general who was also
worshipped as giving help in sickness and the magic tricks that he
(simply as ~hê/rôs~) was able to play on the Libyan slave who had
stolen the gold pieces which used to be offered to him: Luc.,
_Philops._ 18-20.]
[46\15: _Anth. Pal._ vii, 694 (~Addai/ou~, probably the
Macedonian).]
[47\15: _CIG._ 4838b (see above, chap. iv, n. 60). The name
expresses the idea: ~euo/dei~ was the greeting which the dead man
returned to the traveller, _CIG._ 1956.]
[48\15: Another example: bulls are still sacrificed in Megara in the
fourth century A.D. officially by the city to the Heroes who had
fallen in the Persian wars, _IG. Sept._ i, 53.]
[49\15: At the monument of Philopoimen, Plu., _Philop._ 21.]
[50\15: ~en toi=s Hêrôïkoi=s kai\ en tai=s a/llais heortai=s~--in
Priansos and Hierapytna in Crete (third century B.C.), _CIG._ 2556,
37. Annual festival of the ~Hêrô=|a~, in which were held
~eucharistê/rioi agô=nes~ for Asklepiades and those who had fought
with him in one of the city's wars. A decree honouring the grandsons
of this Asklep. has been found at Eski-Manyas near Kyzikos: _Ath.
Mitt._ 1884, p. 33.]
[51\15: In taking an oath they swore by the gods ~kai\ hê/rôas kai\
hêrôa/ssas~ (Dreros in Crete): Cauer, _Delect._^1 38 A, 31 (third
century B.C.). Treaty between Rhodos and Hierapytna (second century
B.C.), Cauer, 44, 3: ~eu/xasthai tô=| Hali/ô| kai\ ta=| Rho/dô| kai\
toi=s a/llois theoi=s pa=si kai\ pa/sais kai\ toi=s archage/tais
kai\ toi=s hê/rôsi, ho/soi e/chonti ta\n po/lin kai\ ta\n chô/ran
ta\n Rhodi/ôn . . .~ Oath of citizenship from Chersonnesos (third
century), _Sitzb. Berl. Akad._ 1892, p. 480: ~omnu/ô . . . hê/rôas
ho/soi po/lin kai\ chô/ran kai\ teu/chê e/chonti ta\
Chersonasita=n~.--Similar exx. from earlier times: see above, chap.
iv, n. 4 (and cf. Din., _Dem._ 64: ~martu/romai . . . kai\ tou\s
hê/rôas tou\s egchôri/ous ktl.~).]
[52\15: e.g. inscr. from Astypalaia _BCH._ 1891, p. 632 (n. 4):
Damatrios son of Hippias dedicates a fountain and trees ~theoi=s
hê/rôsi/ te . . . athlopho/rou te/chnas antididou\s cha/rita~.--A
grave is dedicated ~theoi=s hê/rôsi~, _CIG._ 3272 (Smyrna), i.e.
probably ~th. kai\ hê/rôsi~ (cf. ~theoi=s dai/mosi~, 5827. etc.).]
[53\15: Collegia of ~hêrôistai/~: Foucart. _Assoc. relig._ 230 (49),
233 (56). _CIA._ ii, 630. In Boeotia, _Ath. Mitt._ 3, 299 = _IG.
Sept._ i, 2725.]
[54\15: e g. inscr. on one of the seats in the theatre at Athens:
~hiere/ôs Ana/koin kai\ hê/rôos epitegi/ou~, _CIA._ iii, 290.]
[55\15: ~diame/nousi de\ kai\ es to/de tô=| Ai/anti par' Athênai/ois
timai/, autô=| te kai\ Eurusa/kei~, Paus. 1, 35, 3 (~Aia/nteia~ in
Salamis in first century B.C., _CIA._ ii, 467-71). ~enagi/zousi de\
kai\ es hêma=s e/ti tô=| Phorônei=~ (in Argos), 2, 20, 3. ~kai/ hoi~
(Theras) ~kai\ nu=n e/ti hoi Thêrai=oi kat' e/tos enagi/zousin hôs
oikistê=|~, 3, 1, 8. He also bears witness to the still surviving
cult of Pandion as Hero in Megara, 1, 41, 6; Tereus in Megara, 1, 41,
9; Melampous in Aigosthena, 1, 44, 5; Aristomenes in Messenia, 4,
14, 7; Aitolos in Elis (~enagi/zei ho _gumnasi/archos_ e/ti kai\ es
eme\ kath' he/kaston e/tos tô=| Aitôlô=|~, 5, 4, 4; cf. the
~gumnasi/archos~ who looks after the ~ekkomidai/~: above, this
chap., n. 4); Sostratos the ~erô/menos~ of Herakles in Dyme, 7, 17,
8; Iphikles in Phenea, 8, 14, 9; the boys slain at Kaphyai, 8, 23,
6-7; the four lawgivers of Tegea, 8, 48, 1; the ~Eusebei=s~ in
Katana, 10, 28, 4-5.--Of course, it does not follow that when Paus.
mentions other very numerous Heroes without so {559} expressly
saying that their cult still survived, he means that those cults had
died out.]
[56\15: Plu., _Aristid._ 21.]
[57\15: Aratos received from the Achaeans after his death ~thusi/an
kai\ tima\s hêrôika/s~ in which he may take pleasure himself ~ei/per
kai\ peri\ tou\s apoichome/nous e/sti tis ai/sthêsis~, Polyb. 8, 14,
8. He was buried at Sikyon, as ~oikistê\s kai\ sôtê\r tê=s po/leôs~,
in a ~to/pos peri/optos~ called the ~Ara/teion~ (cf. Paus. 2, 8, 1;
9, 4). Sacrifice was made to him twice a year, on the day when he
had freed Sikyon, 5th Daisios, the ~Sôtê/ria~, and on his birthday;
the former was carried out by the priest of Zeus Soter, the latter
by the priest of Aratos. They included: Hymn by the Dionysiac
~techni=tai~, procession of ~pai=des~ and ~e/phêboi~ in which the
_gymnasiarchoi_, the _boule_ wearing crowns, and the citizens took
part. Of all this only ~dei/gmata mikra/~ still survived in
Plutarch's time, ~hai de\ plei=stai tô=n timô=n hupo\ chro/nou kai\
pragma/tô=n a/llôn ekleloi/pasin~, Plu., _Arat._ 53 (~sôtê/r~: cf.
epigram in c. 14).]
[58\15: ~pa/ntes hê/rôas nomi/zousi tou\s spho/dra palaiou\s
a/ndras, kai\ ea\n mêde\n exai/reton e/chôsi, di' auto\n oi=mai to\n
chro/non~. But only a few of them have regular ~teleta\s hêrô/ôn~:
D. Chr. 31, p. 335 M. [i, 243 Arn.]. omnes qui patriam conservarint,
adiuverint, auxerint become immortal: Cic., _Som. Sci._ 3, which
also goes too far.]
[59\15: Pelopidas, Timoleon, Leosthenes, Aratos become Heroes: see
Keil, _Anal. epigr. et onom._ 50-4. Kleomenes Plu., _Cleom._ 39.
Philopoimen, _Philop._ 21. ~iso/theoi timai/~ annual sacrifice of a
bull and hymns of praise to Philop. sung by the ~neoi/~: D.S. 29,
18; Liv. 39, 50, 9; _SIG._ 289. See Keil, op. cit., 9 ff.]
[60\15: In Sikyon Aratos is held to be the son of Asklepios who had
visited his mother in the form of a snake: Paus. 2, 10, 3; 4, 14,
7-8 (favourite form of stories of divine parentage: see Marx,
_Märchen v. dankb. Thieren_, 122, 2).]
[61\15: The very charming and characteristic story of Drimakos, the
leader and law-giver of the ~drape/tai~ in Chios, is told by
Nymphodoros (ap. Ath. vi, c. 88-90), as having happened ~mikro\n
pro\ hêmô=n~. He had a ~hêrô=|on~ in which he was honoured under the
name of ~hê/rôs eumenê/s~ (by the ~drape/tai~ with the firstfruits
of their plunder). He frequently appeared to masters to whom he
revealed the ~oiketô=n epiboula/s~.]
[62\15: Hsch. ~Gathia/das; hê/rôos o/noma, ho\s kai\ tou\s
katapheu/gontas eis auto\n rhu/etai [kai\] thana/tou~.]
[63\15: Pixodaros, a shepherd of Ephesos, discovered in a strange
fashion a very excellent kind of marble, a discovery which he
communicated to the authorities (for use in temple-building). He was
made a Hero and renamed ~hê/rôs eua/ggelos~: sacrifice was made to
him officially every month, _hodieque_, Vitruv. x, 2.]
[64\15: Luc., Macrob. 21 (for Athenod. see _FHG._ iii, 485 f.).--In
Kos an _exedra_ in the theatre was dedicated to C. Stertinius
Xenophon (court-physician to the Emp. Claudius) ~hê/rôi~, _Inscr.
Cos_, 93.--In Mitylene there was even an apotheosis of the historian
Theophanes (the friend of Pompeius: cf. ~Gn. Pompê/ios Hieroi/ta
huio\s Theopha/nês~ with full name, _Ath. Mitt._ ix, 87): Tac., _A._
vi, 18. ~Theopha/nês theo\s~ on coins of the city, and cf. ~Se/xston
hê/rôa, Lesbô=nax hê/rôs ne/os~, etc., on the same city's coins
(Head, _Hist. Num._ 488).]
[65\15: On a _stele_ in Messene there was a portrait of a certain
Aithidas of the beginning of the third century B.C.; instead of whom
a descendant of the same name is worshipped: Paus. 4, 32, 2. In the
market place of Mantinea stood a _heroon_ of Podares who had {560}
distinguished himself in the battle of Mant. (362). Three
generations before Paus. visited the place the Mantineans had
altered the inscription on the _heroon_ and dedicated it to a later
Podares, a descendant of the original one, who lived in the Roman
period: Paus. 8, 9, 9.]
[66\15: Cf. Keil, _Anal. Epigr._ 62.]
[67\15: Cult paid to king Lysimachos in his lifetime in Samothrake,
_SIG._ 190 (_Archäol. Unters. auf. Samoth._ ii, 85, n. 2).
"Heroizing" of Diogenes _phrourarchos_ of Demetrios; in 229 B.C. he
was bribed by Aratos to lead the Macedonian garrison out of Attica:
see Köhler, _Hermes_, vii, 1 ff.--~hupe\r ta=s Niki/a tou= da/mou
huiou=, philopa/tridos, _hê/rôos_, euerge/ta de\ ta=s po/lios,
sôtêri/as~ a dedication ~theoi=s patrô=|ois~, _Inscr. Cos_, 76. This
is a decree made in the lifetime of the _heros_ (or why
~sôtêri/as~?), who is probably identical, as the editors suggest,
with Nikias, tyrant of Kos in the Strabo's time: _Str._ 658;
Perizonius on Ael., _VH._ i, 29.]
[68\15: ~hê/rôs~ applied to a living person occasionally on inss. of
the Imperial age, _CIG._ 2583, Lyttos, Crete; 3665 ~hêrôi/s~,
living, Kyzikos second century; _Ath. Mitt._ vi, 121 (Kyzikos again)
~hipparchou=ntos Kleome/nous hê/rôos~ also certainly living.]
[69\15: When Demetrios Poliorketes conquered and rebuilt Sikyon in
303 the inhabitants of the city which is now called "Demetrias"
offer to him while still alive, sacrifice, festival, and annual
~agô=nes~ as ~kti/stê| (alla\ tau=ta me\n ho chro/nos êku/rôsen~):
D.S. 20, 102, 3. Later this frequently occurred: Marcellea,
Lucullea, etc., are well known. But the matter did not stop there.
The inhabitants of Lete in Macedonia in the year 117 B.C. decree to
a prominent Roman, besides other honours, ~ti/thesthai autô=| agô=na
hippiko\n kat' he/tos en tô=| Daisi/ô| mêni/, ho/tan kai\ toi=s
a/llois euerge/tais hoi agô=nes epitelô=ntai~ (_Arch. des miss.
scientif._ 3e série, iii, p. 278, n. 127). This implies that all
~euerge/tai~ were by custom offered such games at this time.]
[70\15: D.S. 17, 115. Alexander after inquiry at the oracle of Ammon
commanded that he should be worshipped as ~hê/rôs~ (the oracle
having granted in his case ~enagi/zein hôs hê/rôi~, but not ~hôs
theô=| thu/ein~): Arrian, _An._ 7, 14, 7; 23, 6; Plu., _Alex._ 72
(an ~hêrô=|on~ was immediately set up to him in Alexandria Aeg.:
Arr. 7, 23, 7). This did not prevent the superstition and servility
which flourished together in Alexander's empire from occasionally
worshipping Heph. as ~Hêphaisti/ôn theo\s pa/redros~.--D.S. probably
only exaggerates the truth: 17, 115, 6; cf. Luc., _Calumn._ 17-18.
(The new _heros_ or god immediately gave proof of his power by
appearances, visions sent in dreams, ~ia/mata, mantei=ai~, ib.
17.)--Elaborate pomp at the funeral of Dem. Poliork.: Plu.,
_Demetr._ 53.]
[71\15: Cf. the Testament of Epikteta and other foundations
mentioned above, this chap., n. 18, and chap. v, n. 126. Or cf. the
elaborate arrangements which Herodes Atticus made for the funeral,
etc., of Regilla and Polydeukes (but ~_hê/rôs_ Poludeuki/ôn~ is only
said in the weakened sense in which ~hê/rôs~ had been current for a
long time): collected by Keil in Pauly-Wiss. i, 2101 ff. The
extravagant manifestations of grief that Cicero offered to the
memory of his daughter were modelled on Greek originals (and upon
the certainly Greek auctores qui dicant fieri id oportere: _Att._
12, 81, 1). In _Att._ 12 he gives an account of their architectural
side: he frequently calls the object that he meditates an
~apothe/ôsis~; cf. _consecrabo te_ (_Consol. fr._ 5 Or.).--Cf. the
Temple-tomb of Pomptilla, who like another Alkestis died instead of
her husband, whom she followed into exile as far as Sardinia: her
death was caused by breathing in the breath of the sick man. Her
{561} temple is at Cagliari in Sardinia, and is adorned with many
inss. in Latin and Greek: _IG. Sic. et It._ 607, p. 144 ff. (first
century A.D.).]
[72\15: ~ho da=mos~ (occasionally also ~ha boula\ kai\ ho da=mos)
aphêrô/ïxe~--Thera, _CIG._ 2467; Ross, _Inscr. Gr. Ined._ 203 ff.
(and sometimes outside Thera: Loch, _Zu d. gr. Grabschr._ 282, 1)
~ho da=mos eti/mase (to\n dei=na) . . . hê/rôa~. Cf. also (Thera)
_Ath. Mitt._ xvi, 166; _Epigr. Gr._ 191-2.]
[73\15: ~phronti/sai de\ tou\s orgeô=nas~ (the members of a
_collegium_ of Dionysiasts) ~ho/pôs aphêrôisthei= Dionu/sios kai\
anatethei= en tô=| hierô=| para\ to\n theo/n, ho/pou kai\ ho patê\r
autou=, hi/na hupa/rchei ka/lliston hupo/mnêma autou= eis to\n
ha/panta chro/non~, inscr. of Peiraeus, second century B.C.; _CIA._
iv, 2, n. 623e, 45 ff. In Argos a guild, apparently of tanners, puts
up an inscr. ~tô=| dei=ni, kti/sta| hê/rôi~, _CIG._ 1134.]
[74\15: Like that Naulochos whom Philios of Salamis saw three times
in a dream appearing in company with Demeter and Kore. The city of
Priene thereupon ordered that he should be worshipped (~hê/rôa
se/bein~, _Epigr. Gr._ 774).]
[75\15: ~Ka/rpos ta\n idi/an gunai=ka aphêrô/ïxe~ (Thera) _CIG._
2471. From the same place come many more exx. of ~aphêrôi/zein~ by
members of a family: 2472b-d, 2473; cf. ~Androsthe/nên Phi/lônos
ne/on hê/rôa . . . hê mê/têr~ (Macedonia) _Arch. miss. scient._ iii,
1876, 295, n. 130.--This is probably how we should understand the
matter when in sepulchral epigrams one member of the family
addresses or refers to another as ~hê/rôs~: _Epigr. Gr._ 483, 510,
552, 674.--But ~hê/rôs suggenei/as~, _CIA._ iii, 1460, must have a
fuller sense than the otherwise usual ~hê/rôs~. It distinguishes a
true ~archêge/tês~. Prob. this is also the meaning of ~Charmu/lou
hê/rôos tô=n Charmulei/ôn~, _GDI._ 3701 (Kos). Something more than
simple ~hê/rôs~ is also probably intended by the language of the
Pergamene inscr. (specially distorted to suit the ~isopsêphi/a~)
_Inscr. Perg._ ii, 587, ~I. Niko/dêmos, ho kai\ Ni/kôn (a|phig)
agatho\s ei=en a\n hê/rôs (a|phig)~.]
[76\15: It is true that it is difficult to find certain exx. of the
identification of a dead man with an already existing and honoured
_heros_ of another name. Of the various examples generally quoted
for this perhaps the only relevant is the Spartan inscr.
~Aristoklê=s ho kai\ Zê=thos~, _Ath. Mitt._ iv, _tab._ 8, 2.
Identification with a god is of frequent occurrence: cf. imagines
defuncti, quas ad habitum dei Liberi formaverat (uxor), divinis
percolens honoribus: Apul., _M._ viii, 7. (Cf. Lob., _Agl._ 1002,
who also thinks of the example given in the ~Prôtesi/laos~ of Eur.;
but the resemblance is only a distant one.) The dead man as
~Ba/kchos~, _Epigr. Gr._ 821; ~Dionu/sou a/galma~, ib. 705; cf. the
dead man of _CIG._ 6731, ~a/galma eimi Hêli/ou~. Many similar exx.
of the representation of the dead in accordance with the types of
Dionysos, Asklepios, Hermes are given by Ross, _Archäol. Aufs._ i,
51; Deneken in Roscher, _Lex._ i, 2588.]
[77\15: See above, chap. iv, p. 128 ff.]
[78\15: See Keil, _Syll. Inscr. Boeot._, p. 153.]
[79\15: In Thespiai the inss. do not show the addition of ~hê/rôs~
to the name of the dead until Imperial times: see Dittenberger on
_IG. Sept._ i, 2110, p. 367.]
[80\15: Many exx. of ~hê/rôs, hê/rôs chrêste\ chai=re~, etc., are
collected and arranged by Deneken in Roscher's _Lex._ s. _Heros_, i,
2549 ff. See also Loch, _Gr. Grabschr._, p. 282 ff.]
[81\15: As Keil has already observed, loc. cit. [n. 78].--At any
rate ~hêrôi/nê~ still preserves its full sense when the council and
people of Athens, in the first century A.D., so describe a woman of
position after her death, _CIA._ iii, 889. Or again, when the
Athenian as well as the {562} Spartan decree calls P. Statilius
Lamprias expressly ~hê/rôs~ (see above, n. 6)--_Fouilles d'Epid._ i,
n. 205-9.]
[82\15: It is curious how, much later, in Christian times, ~ho
hê/rôs~ is applied to one who has recently died (exactly synonymous
with ~ho makari/tês~): cf. ~ho hê/rôs Eudo/xios, ho hê/rôs
Patri/kios, Ia/mblichos~ in _Schol. Basilic._]
[83\15: ~hu/pnos e/chei se ma/kar . . . , kai\ zê=|s hôs hê/rôs kai\
ne/kus ouk ege/nou~, _Epigr. Gr._ 433; where it is evident that the
~hê/rôs~ is something more living than the mere ~ne/kus. aspa/zesth'
hê/rôa, to\n ouk edama/ssato lu/pê~ (i.e. who has not been made
nothing by death), ib., 296. The husband ~timai=s iso/moiron e/thêke
ta\n homo/lektron hê/rôsin~, 189, 3. The title ~hê/rôs~ still has a
stronger and deeper sense in inss. such as _CIG._ 1627 (referring to
a descendent of Plutarch's) and 4058 (~. . . a/ndra philo/logon kai\
pa/sê| aretê=| kekosmême/non eudai/mona hê/rôa~). Cf. Orig., _Cels._
3, 80, p. 359 Lom.: ~hoi biou=ntes hô=sth' hê/rôes gene/sthai kai\
meta\ theô=n he/xein ta\s diatriba/s~. In 3, 22, p. 276, he
distinguishes between ~theoi/, hê/rôes, hapaxaplô=s psuchai/~ (the
soul can divina _fieri_ et a legibus mortalitatis educi, Arnob. ii,
62; cf. Corn. Labeo ap. Serv., _Aen._ iii, 168).]
[84\15: ~a/ôroi, biotha/natoi, a/taphoi~ see Append.
vii.--~tha/ptein kai\ hosiou=n tê=| Gê=|~, significantly, Philostr.,
_Her._ 714, p. 182, 9 f. K.]
[85\15: Plu., _Dio_, 2: some say that only children and women and
foolish men see ghosts, ~dai/mona ponêro\n en autoi=s
deisidaimoni/an e/chontes~. Plu. on the other hand thinks that he
can confound the unbelieving by pointing to the fact that even Dio
and Brutus had seen ~pha/smata~ shortly before their death.]
[86\15: Cf. the story of Philinnion and Machates in Amphipolis:
Phleg., _Mirab._ 1. Procl. _in Rp._, p. 64 Sch. [ii, p. 116 Kr.; see
Rohde in _Rh. Mus._ 32, 329 ff.]. The Erinyes in Aesch. are
conceived as vampire-like: _Eum._ 264 f.: see above, chap. v, n.
161.--Souls of the dead as nightmare, ~ephia/ltês~, _incubo_
oppressing a man's enemy: Soran. ap. Tert., _An._ 44; Cael. Aurel.,
_Morb. Chron._ 1, 3, 55 (_Rh. Mus._ 37, 467, 1).]
[87\15: The ~_Philopseudê/s_~ is a genuine treasure-house of typical
narratives of apparitions and sorceries of every kind. ~dai/monas
ana/gein kai\ nekrou\s heô/lous anakalei=n~ is a mere bagatelle,
according to these sage doctors, to the magician: c. 13. An example
is given of this conjuration of the dead (the seven-months dead
father of Glaukias): 14. Appearance of the dead wife of Eukrates
whose golden sandals they had forgotten to burn with her: 27 (see
above, chap. i, n. 51). As a rule the only haunting ghosts are ~hai
tô=n biai/ôs apothano/ntôn psuchai/~ not those of the ~kata\ moi=ran
apothano/ntôn~ as the learned Pythagorean instructs us, c. 29. Then
follows the story of the ghost of Corinth (30-1), which must be
taken from a widely known ghost-story, as it agrees completely in
its circumstances with the story told with such simple candour by
Pliny (_Ep._ vii, 27). ~dai/mona/s tinas ei=nai kai\ pha/smata kai\
nekrô=n _psucha\s_ peripolei=n hupe\r gê=s kai\ phai/nesthai hoi=s
a\n ethe/lôsin~ (29) is the fixed conviction of these philosophers.
The living too can sometimes catch a glimpse of the underworld:
22-4. A man's soul can be detached from his body and go down to
Hades, and afterwards, again reunited to his body, relate its
adventures. Thus the soul of Kleodemos, while his body lay in fever,
is taken down to the lower world by a messenger but then sent back
again since he had been taken by mistake for his neighbour, the
smith Demylos: 25. This edifying narrative is certainly intended as
a parody of the similar story told in good faith by Plu. _de An.
fr._ 1, preserved {563} ap. Eus., _PE._ 11, 36, p. 563. It is
certain that Plu. did not simply invent such a story; he may perhaps
have found it in some older collection of miraculous ~anabiô/seis~
such as, for example, Chrysippos did not disdain to make. The
probability that Plu. got this story of mistaken identity from a
collection of folk-tales is made all the likelier since the same
story occurs again in a popular guise. Of a similar character is
what Augustine has to say on the authority of Corn. Labeo: _Civ.
Dei_ 22, 28 (p. 622, 1-5 Domb.). Augustine himself, _Cur. pro Mort._
15, tells a story exactly like that of Plu. (about Curma the
_curialis_ and Curma the _faber ferrarius_), which, of course, is
supposed to happen a little before his time in Africa; and once more
at the end of the sixth century Gregory the Great introduces a
vision of Hell by the same formula: _Dial._ 4, 36, p. 384 AB Migne.
The inventive powers of ghoststory-tellers is very limited: they
keep on repeating the same few old and tried motifs.]
[88\15: Plu., _Dio_, 2, 55: _Cimon_, 1; _Brut._ 36 f., 48.]
[89\15: Cf. above, chap. v, n. 23; chap. ix, nn. 105 ff.]
[90\15: ~psucha\s hêrô/ôn anakalei=n~ among the regular arts of the
magician, Cels. ap. Orig., _Cels._ 1, 68, p. 127 Lomm.]
[91\15: See Append. xii.]
[92\15: And in consequence we sometimes have the most surprising
confusion of the two states of being. Lucian, e.g. (in _D. Mort._
frequently, cf. 18, 1, 20, 2, and _Necyom._ 15, 17; _Char._ 24)
speaks of the dead in _Hades_ as skeletons lying one upon another,
Aiakos allowing them each one foot of earth, etc. (The Romans have
the same confusion of ideas: nemo tam puer est, says Sen., _Ep._ 24,
18, ut Cerberum timeat et tenebras et larvalem habitum nudis ossibus
cohaerentium. Cf. Prop. iv, 5, 3, Cerberus . . . ieiuno terreat ossa
sono, etc.) There is also a confusion between the grave and Hades in
such expressions as ~met' eusebe/essi _kei=sthai_~: _Epigr. Gr._
259, 1; ~skê=nos nu=n kei=mai Ploute/os emmela/throis~, 226, 4; cf.
above, chap. xii, n. 95. Such a mixture of ideas was all the more
natural seeing that ~Ha/idês~ also occurs as a metaphor for
~tu/mbos~ (see below, n. 135).]
[93\15: ~ho polu\s ho/milos hou=s idiô/tas hoi sophoi\ kalou=sin,
Homê/rô| kai\ Hêsio/dô| kai\ toi=s a/llois muthopoioi=s peri\
tou/tôn peitho/menoi, to/pon tina\ hupo\ tê\n gê=n bathu\n Ha/idên
hupeilê/phasi ktl.~, Luc., _Luct._ 2 (continued to c. 9). Plu.,
_Suav. Viv._ 27, 1105 AB, thinks that ~ou pa/nu polloi/~ are afraid
of Kerberos, having to fill broken pitchers and the other terrors of
Hades, as being ~mête/rôn kai\ titthô=n do/gmata kai\ lo/gous
muthô/deis~. And yet as protection against these things people are
always seeking ~teleta\s kai\ katharmou/s~.]
[94\15: See _Griech. Roman_, 261, Ettig _Acheruntica_ (_Leipz.
Stud._ 13, 251 ff.).]
[95\15: Man hopes that after death he will see ~tou\s nu=n
hubri/zontas hupo\ plou/tou kai\ duna/meôs ktl. axi/an di/kên
ti/nontas~, Plu., _Suav. V._ 28, 2, 1105 C. Reversal of earthly
situation in Hades: ~ta\ pra/gmata es tou/mpalin anestramme/na;
hêmei=s me\n ga\r hoi pe/nêtes gelô=men, aniô=ntai de\ kai\
oimô/zousin hoi plou/sioi~, Luc., _Catapl._ 15; cf. _DM._ 15, 2; 25,
2: ~isotimi/a, isêgori/a~ in Hades and ~ho/moioi pa/ntes~. aequat
omnes cinis; impares nascimur, pares morimur, Sen., _Ep._ 91, 16--a
favourite commonplace: see Gataker on M. Ant. vi, 24, p. 235 f.]
[96\15: How far indeed this really happened is of course not to be
answered decisively. The Celsus against whom Origen wrote his
polemical treatise looks at the matter from the popular point of
view on the whole. (He is no Epicurean as Orig. supposes; but
neither in fact is he a professional philosopher of any kind, but
rather {564} an ~idiô/tês~ with inclinations to philosophy of all
sorts and esp. to the semi-Platonism current at the time.) He
distinctly says ~mê/te tou/tois~ (the Christians) ~ei/ê mê/t' emoi\
mê/t' a/llô| tini\ anthrô/pôn apothe/sthai to\ peri\ tou=
kolasthê/sesthai tou\s adi/kous kai\ gerô=n axiôthê/sesthai tou\s
dikai/ous do/gma~ (ap. Orig., _Cels._ 3, 16, p. 270 Lomm.).--On the
other hand, it is significant of the temper of the very "secular"
Graeco-Roman society which was at the head of affairs at the end of
the last century B.C., that Cicero at the end of his work, _de Nat.
Deor._ (iii, 81 ff.), in discussing the various means of obtaining a
balance between desert and punishment, virtue and reward, in the
circumstances of human life, never even mentions the belief in a
final balance and recompense after death. (He only mentions among
other things the visiting of the sins of the father upon his
**descendants on earth--90 ff.--that old Greek belief [see above,
chap. xii, n. 65] which really excludes the idea of an after life.)
Between the days of Cic. and those of Celsus ideas had changed. We
know this from innumerable indications; even the next world was
looked at in quite a different light in the second century A.D. from
what it had been two centuries earlier.]
[97\15: ~timôri/ai aiônioi hupo\ gê=n kai\ kolasmoi\ phrikô/deis~
are expected after death by many (while others regard death as
merely an ~agathô=n ste/rêsis~): Plu., _Virt. Moral._ 10, 450 A.
Horrible tortures in the ~kolastê/rion~ in Hades, fire, scourging,
etc.: Luc., _Necyom._ 14 (carried still further in Plu.'s pictures
of Hades, _Gen. Soc._ and _Ser. NV._). Fire, pitch, and sulphur
belong to the regular apparatus of this place of torment; already in
_Axioch._ 372 A, sinners are scorched by burning torches ~aïdi/ois
timôri/ais~ (cf. Lehrs, _Popl. Aufs._ 308 ff.). How far such horrors
really represented popular belief it is difficult to say for certain
(they became quite familiar to Christian writers on Hell from
classical tradition: cf. Maury, _Magie et l'astrol. dans l'antiq._
166 ff.). But Celsus, for example, though he himself believes in the
punishments of Hell (Orig., _Cels._ 8, 49, p. 180) only appeals in
confirmation of his belief to the teaching of ~exêgêtai\ telestai/
te kai\ mustagôgoi/~ of certain (not precisely defined) ~hiera/~: 8,
48, p. 178; cf. above, chap. vii, § 2; chap. x, n. 62.]
[98\15: See above, chap. ii, § 1.]
[99\15: Peleus, Kadmos, Achilles in the Islands of the Blest: Pi.,
_O._ ii, 86 ff. (Peleus and Kadmos the supreme examples of
~eudaimoni/a~: _P._ iii, 86 ff.). In Eur., _Andr._ 1254 ff. Thetis
promises to Peleus immortal life ~Nêre/ôs en do/mois~. An ancient
poem must have spoken to this effect of Kadmos (and of Harmonia his
wife); both are transported ~maka/rôn es ai=an~ Eur., _Ba._ 1338 f.;
~poiêtai/~ and ~muthogra/phoi~ ap. Sch. Pi., _P._ iii, 153 (this
would be after their "death" in Illyria where their graves were
shown, and the snakes of stone into which they had been changed: see
Müller on Scylax, 24, p. 31). Achilles and Diomedes are ~nê/sois en
maka/rôn~ acc. to the _skolion_ on Harmodios: _Carm. pop. fr._ 10
Bgk. (Thus we often hear that Achilles is in the Is. of the Blest or
in the ~Êlu/sion pedi/on~ which was regularly identified with
them--cf. ~Êlu/sios leimô/n~ in the ~maka/rôn nê=sos~: Luc., _Jup.
Conf._ 17; _VH._ ii, 14--e.g. Pla. _Smp._ 199 E; A.R. iv, 811;
[Apollod.] _Epit._ v, 5. His special place of abode on the island of
Leuke is also a ~maka/rôn nê=sos~ and an older invention than the
common Is. of the Blest of which we first hear in Hes., _Op._ 159
ff. Diomedes in the same way after his ~_aphanismo/s_~ enjoyed
immortal life in the island named after him in the Adriatic: Ibyc.
ap. Sch. Pi., _N._ x, 12; _Str._ 283-4, etc.; but the _skolion_
transferred him to the common dwelling-place of the blessed Heroes.)
Achilles, sometimes in Leuke, sometimes on the Is. {565} of the
Blest, is accompanied by his wife Medea (in Elys.: Ibyc. Simon. Sch.
A.R. iv, 814; A.R. iv, 811 ff.) or Iphigeneia who had once been
betrothed to him (in Leuke: Ant. Lib. 27 after Nikand.; different
version by Lycophr. 183 ff.) or Helen (Paus. 3, 19, 11-13; Conon,
18; Sch. Pl., _Phdr._ 243 A; Philostr., _Her._ 211 ff.
Kays.).--Alkmene after her _body_ had vanished from the sight of
those who were bearing the coffin (cf. Plu., _Rom._ 28) was
translated to the ~maka/rôn nê=soi~: Ant. Lib 33 after
Pherecyd.--Neoptolemos is transported ~es êlu/sion pedi/on maka/rôn
epi\ gai=an~, Q.S. iii, 761 ff.--Among the other Heroes there
Agamemnon is also implied: Artemid. v, 16.--In all these fabulous
accounts the Is. of the Blest (Elysion) remain invariably the abode
of special and chosen Heroes (Harmodios' translation there in the
_skolion_ is no exception; nor is Lucian's jesting reference, _VH._
ii, 17). It was only later imagination that, under the influence of
theology, made this kingdom of bliss the common dwelling-place of
almost all the ~eusebei=s~.]
[100\15: Fortunatorum memorant insulas quo cuncti qui aetatem
egerint caste suam conveniant, Plaut., _Trin._ 549 f. Menand. Rh.,
_Encom._ 414, 16 ff. Sp., recommends the use in a ~paramuthêtiko\s
lo/gos~ of the words: ~pei/thomai to\n metasta/nta to\ êlu/sion
pedi/on oikei=n~ (--and even ~kai\ ta/cha pou ma=llon meta\ tô=n
theô=n diaita=tai nu=n~); cf. p. 421, 16-17 Sp. And much later,
~cha/rin amei/psasthai auto\n eu/chomai tou\s theou/s, en maka/rôn
nêsois ê/dê suzê=n êxiô/menon~, Suid. ~Antô/nios Alexandreu/s~ (410
B Gaisf.) from Damascius.]
[101\15: Sertorius: Plu., _Sert._ 8-9; Sall., _H._ 1, _fr._ 61, 62;
Flor. 2, 10 (Hor., _Epod._ 16, 39 ff.). Some even thought that they
had found (cf. Phoen. legends: _Gr. Roman_ 215) the ~mak. nê=s.~ off
the west coast of Africa: Str. i, p. 3; iii, 150; Mela, iii, 10;
Plin., _NH._ vi, 202 ff.; Marcellus, ~Aithiop.~ ap. Procl., _in
Tim._, p. 54 F, 55 A, 56 B, etc. Islands inhabited by spirits in the
north: Plu., _Def. Or._ 18, p. 419 F; _fr._ vol. v, 764 ff. Wytt.
Procop., _Goth._ iv, 20 (the ~maka/rôn nê=soi~ are in the middle of
the African continent acc. to Hdt. iii, 26; in Boeot. Thebes, Lyc.
1204 with Sch.). Ps. Callisth. makes Alex. the Great reach the land
of the Blest, ii, 39 ff. There may have been many such fables which
have been parodied by Lucian in _VH._ ii, 6 ff., where he and his
company ~e/ti zô=ntes hierou= chôri/ou epibai/nousin~ (ii, 10). It
was always natural to hope that at the _Antipodes_ (cf. Serv., _A._
vi, 532) such a land of the Souls and the Blest might some day be
discovered--as indeed many have thought they _had_ discovered it in
the progressive geographical discovery of the Middle Ages and modern
times.]
[102\15: Leuke, to which already in the _Aithiopis_ Achilles had
been translated, was originally a purely mythical place (see above,
p. 65), the island of the pallid shades (like the ~Leuka\s pe/trê~
of _Od._ ~ô~ 11, at the entrance of Hades; cf. ~k~ 515. It is the
same rock of Hades from which unhappy lovers cast themselves down to
death, ~arthei\s dêu=t' apo\ Leuka/dos pe/três ktl.~ Anacr. 17, etc.
[cf. Dieterich, _Nek._ 27 f.]. ~leu/kê~, the white poplar, as the
tree of Hades, was used to make the garlands of the Mystai at
Eleusis; cf. ~leukê\ kupa/rissos~ at the entrance of Hades, _Epigr.
Gr._ 1037, 2).--It was probably Milesian sailors who localized this
island of Achilles in the Black Sea (there was a cult of Ach. in
Olbia and in Miletos itself). Alc. already knows of the champion as
ruling over the country of the Scythians: _fr._ 48b, ~en Euxei/nô|
pela/gei phaenna\n Achileu\s na=son (e/chei)~, Pi. _N._ iv, 49. Then
Eur., _Andr._ 1259 ff.; _IT._ 436 ff.; finally Q.S. iii, 770 ff.
Leuke was particularly identified with an uninhabited islet rising
with its white limestone cliffs out of the sea at the mouth of the
Danube: {566} ~Ke/ltou pro\s ekbolai=si~, Lyc. 189 (probably the
Istros is meant but the latest editor simply substitutes ~I/strou
pro\s ek.--a far too facile conjecture).--It stood, more exactly,
before the ~psilo\n sto/ma~, i.e. the most northerly mouth of
the river (the Kilia mouth): Arrian, _Peripl._ 20, 3 H.: [Scylax]
_Peripl._ 68 prob. means the same island; cf. Leuke, ~euthu\
I/strou~, Max. Tyr. 15, 7. It has been proposed to identify it with
the "snake island" which lies more or less in the same
neighbourhood: see H. Koehler, _Mém. sur les îles et la course cons.
à Achille_, etc., Mém. acad. S. Petersb. 1826, iv, p. 599 ff. It was
only by a confusion that the long sandy beach at the mouth of the
Borysthenes, called ~Achille/ôs dro/mos~, was identified with Leuke
(e.g. by Mela, ii, 98; Plin., _NH._ iv, 93; D.P. 541 ff.); legends
of Achilles' epiphanies may have been current there too (as in other
islands of the same name: Dionys. of Olbia ap. Sch. A.R. ii, 658);
the Olbiopolitai offer a cult to ~Achilleu\s Ponta/rchês~ there:
_CIG._ 2076-7, 2080, 2096b-f (_IPE._ i, 77-83). But as a settled
abode of Achilles only Leuke was generally recognized (there was a
~dro/mos Achille/ôs~ there as well: Eur., _IT._ 437; Hesych.
~Achill. pla/ka~; Arr. 21--hence the confusion mentioned above).
Strabo's remarks on the subject are peculiar (vii, 306 f.). He
distinguishes the ~Ach. dro/mos~ (which had already been mentioned
by Hdt. iv, 55) from Leuke altogether; and he places that island not
at the mouth of the Istros but 500 stades away at the mouth of the
Tyras (Dniester). But the place where sacrifice and worship was made
to Achilles, as the abode of his spirit, was definitely fixed; and
this was, in fact, the island at the mouth of the Danube (~kata\
tou= I/strou ta\s ekbola/s~, Paus. 3, 19, 11), of which Arr. 23, 3,
gives an account based partially on the evidence of eye-witnesses
(p. 399, 12 Müll.). It was an uninhabited, thickly wooded island
only occupied by numerous birds; there was a temple and a statue of
Ach. on it, and also an oracle (Arr. 22, 3), which must have been an
oracle taken by casting or drawing lots (for there were no human
intermediaries) which those who landed on the island could make use
of for themselves. The birds--which were perhaps regarded as
incarnations of the Heroes, or as handmaidens of the "divinity of
light" which Achilles was, acc. to R. Holland, _Heroenvögel in d.
gr. Myth._ 7 ff., 1896--the birds purify the temple every morning
with their wings, which they have dipped in the water: Arr., p. 398,
18 ff. Philostr., _Her._ 746, p. 212, 24 Kays. (Cf. the comrades of
Diomedes changed into birds on his magic island: Iuba ap. Plin.,
_NH._ x, 127--another bird miracle: ib., x, 78). No human beings
dared to live on the island, though sailors often landed there; they
had to leave before nightfall (when spirits are abroad): Amm. Marc.
22, 8, 35; Philostr., _Her._ 747, p. 212, 30-213, 6. The temple
possessed many votive offerings and Greek and Latin inss. (_IPE._ i,
171-2). Those who landed there sacrificed the goats which had been
placed on the island and ran wild. Sometimes Ach. appeared to
visitors; at other times they heard him singing the Paian. In dreams
too he sometimes appeared (i.e. if a person happened to sleep--there
was no Dream-oracle there). To sailors he gave directions and
sometimes appeared like the Dioskouroi (as a flame?) on the top of
the ship's mast (see Arr., _Peripl._ 21-3; Scymn. 790-6; from both
these is derived Anon., _P. Pont. Eux._ 64-6; Max. Tyr. 15, 7, p.
281 f. R.; Paus. 3, 19, 11; Amm. Marc. 22, 8, 35). (The account in
Philostr., _Her._ 745, p. 211, 17-219, 6 Kays., is fantastic but
uses good material and is throughout quite in keeping with the true
legendary spirit--esp. in the story also of the girl torn to pieces
by ghosts: 215, 6-30. Nor is it likely that {567} Phil. himself
invented the marvellous tale laid precisely in the year 163-4 B.C.).
Achilles is not regarded as living quite alone here: Patroklos is
with him (Arr. 32, 34; Max. Tyr. 15, 7), and Helen or Iphigeneia is
given him as his wife (see above, n. 99). Leonymos of Kroton, sixth
century B.C., meets the two Aiantes and Antilochos there: Paus. 3,
19, 13; Conon 18; D.P. (time of Hadrian) says (545): ~kei=thi d'
Achillê=os kai\ hêrô/ôn pha/tis a/llôn psucha\s heili/ssesthai
erêmai/as ana\ bê/ssas~ (which Avien., _Des. Orb._, misunderstands
and improves on: 722 ff.). Thus the island, though in a limited
sense, became a true ~maka/rôn nê=sos~--insula Achillea eadem Leuce
et Macaron appelata, Plin., _NH._ iv, 93.]
[103\15: Cic., speaking of the "translations" of Herakles and
Romulus, says non corpora in caelum elata, non enim natura pateretur
. . . (ap. Aug., _CD._ 22, 4); only their animi remanserunt et
aeternitate fruuntur, _ND._ ii, 62; cf. iii, 12. Plu., _Rom._ 28,
speaks in the same way of the old translation stories (those of
Aristeas, Kleomedes, Alkmene, and finally Romulus)--it was not their
bodies which had disappeared together with their souls, for it would
be ~para\ to\ eiko/s, entheia/zein to\ thnêto\n tê=s phu/seôs hama\
toi=s thei/ois~ (cf. _Pelop._ 16 fin.); cf. also the Hymn
(represented as ancient) of Philostr. dealing with the translated
Achilles: _Her._ 741, p. 208, 24 ff. K.]
[104\15: Celsus and Plutarch both know and describe the ancient cult
and oracular power of Amphiaraos (only at Oropos now) as still in
existence; the same applies to that of Trophonios (like that of
Amphilochos also in Cilicia. An inscr. from Lebadeia (first half
third century A.D.) mentions a priestess ~tê=s Homonoi/as tô=n
Hellê/nôn para\ tô=| Trophôni/ô|~, _IG. Sept._ i, 3426.]
[105\15: ~Astaki/dên to\n Krê=ta, to\n aipo/lon, _hê/rpase_ nu/mphê
ex ore/ôn kai\ nu=n _hiero\s_ Astaki/dês~ (he has become divine,
i.e. immortal): Call., _Ep._ 24. Of a similar character is the
legend of Hylas: ~aphanê\s ege/neto~, Ant. Lib. 26; and of Bormos
among the Maryandynoi (~numpho/lêptos~ Hesych. ~Bô=rmon,
aphanisthê=nai~ Nymphis, _fr._ 9). The Daphnis legend is another
example, and even the story of Odysseus and Kalypso, who detains him
in her cave and would like to make him immortal and ageless for
ever, is in reality based on such legends of the Nymphs. (Even the
name of the Nymph in this case indicates her power: to ~kalu/ptein~
her mortal lover, i.e. ~aphanê= poiei=n~.) Only in this case the
spell is broken and the ~apathana/tisis~ of the translated lover is
never carried out. For other exx. of legends of the love of Nymphs
for a youth see _Griech. Roman_, 109, 1; a Homeric ex. in ~Z~ 21 of
the ~nêi\s Abarbare/ê~ and Boukolion the son of Laomedon. The idea
that a person translated by the nymphs did not die but lived on for
ever, remained current: cf. inscr. from Rome, _Epigr. Gr._ 570,
9-10: ~toi=s pa/ros ou=n mu/thois pisteu/sate; pai=da ga\r esthlê\n
hê/rpasen hôs terpnê\n Naï/des, ou tha/natos~. And again, n. 571:
~Nu/mphai krênai=ai/ me sunê/rpasan ek bio/toio, kai\ ta/cha pou
_timê=s_ hei/neka tou=t' e/pathon~.]
[106\15: In the extravagant and fanatical worship of Dionysos that
was transplanted from Greece to Italy and Rome in the year 186 B.C.
the miracle of translation was carried out in a very practical
fashion (belief in its possibility was evidently firmly
established). Machines were prepared upon which those whose
disappearance was to be effected were bound; they were then
transferred by the machine _in abditos specus_; whereupon the
miracle was announced: _raptos a dis homines istos_: Liv. 39, 13.
This only becomes intelligible in the light of such legends of the
translation of mortals, body and soul, to immortality, of which we
have been speaking.] {568}
[107\15: Plainly so in the case of Berenike the consort of Ptolemy
Soter: Theoc. 17, 46. Theocritus addresses Aphrodite: ~se/then d'
he/neken Bereni/ka eueidê\s Ache/ronta polu/stonon ouk epe/rasen,
alla/ min _harpa/xasa_ pa/roith' epi\ nê=a katelthei=n kuane/an kai\
stugno\n aei\ porthmê=a kamo/ntôn, es nao\n kate/thêkas, hea=s d'
apeda/ssao tima=s~ (as ~thea\ pa/redoros~ or ~su/nnaos~: cf. _Inscr.
Perg._ i, 246, 8). Cf. also Theoc. 15, 106 ff. As a rule, however,
this idea is not so definitely expressed (though it is plainly
implied that translation is the normal way in which deified princes
depart this life, in the story indignantly rejected by Arrian,
_Anab._ 7, 27, 3, that Alexander the Great wanted to throw himself
into the Euphrates ~hôs _aphanê\s_ ex anthrô/pôn geno/menos
pistote/ran tê\n do/xan para\ toi=s e/peita egkatalei/poi ho/ti ek
theou= te autô=| hê ge/nesis sune/bê kai\ _para\ theou\s hê
apochô/rêsis_~--which is the regular and ancient idea of
translation, exhibited e.g. in the story of Empedokles' end; see
above, chap. xi, n. 61: and Christian pamphleteers transferred the
fable to Julian and his end). The Roman Emperors also allowed such
conventional miracles to be told of themselves, in which at least
they were imitating the practice of the Hellenistic monarchs and the
"consecration" fables usual at their death (they do not die but
~methi/stantai ex anthrô/pôn, meth. eis theou/s~, _SIG_^1. 246, 16;
_Inscr. Perg._ i, 249, 4; inscr. from Hierapolis given by Fränkel,
ib. i, p. 39a). That the god is _translated_, his whole personality
_in caelum redit_, is implied as occurring at the death of an
Emperor on the coins of consecration, in which the translated is
represented as being carried up to heaven by a _Genius_ or a bird
(e.g. the eagle which was set free at the _rogus_ of the emperor:
D.C. 56, 42, 3; 74, 5, 5; Hdn. 4, 2 fin.): see Marquardt, _Röm.
Staatsverw._ 3, 447, 3. Nor were there lacking people who maintained
on oath that they had actually witnessed the translation of the
emperor body and soul to heaven, as had once happened to Julius
Proculus and Romulus. Thus at the end of Augustus' life: D.C. 56,
46, 2. and that of Drusilla: 59, 11, 4. Sen., _Apocol._ 1. It was
the official and only recognised manner in which a god can leave
this life.]
[108\15: _Phdr._ 246 CD. ~pla/ttomen . . . theo\n, atha/nato/n ti
zô=|on, e/chon me\n psuchê/n, e/chon de\ sô=ma, to\n aei\ de\
chro/non tau=ta xumpephuko/ta~. In acc. with the will of the
~dêmiourgo/s~ body and soul in the gods remain joined together
(though in itself ~to\ dethe\n pa=n luto/n~. It is to this that
Klearch. alludes ap. Ath. 15, 670 B, ~_ho/ti luto\n_ [lu/etai~ the
MSS.] ~me\n pa=n to\ dedeme/non~): hence they are ~atha/natoi~,
_Tim._ 41 AB.]
[109\15: Hasisatra, Enoch: see above, chap. ii, n. 18. Moses, too,
was translated acc. to later legend, and Elijah (cf. after the
battle of Panormos Hamilcar disappears and for that reason is
worshipped with sacrifice: Hdt. vii, 166-7). In Egypt too: D.S. 1,
25, 7, speaks of the ~ex anthrô/pôn meta/stasis~, i.e. translation,
of Osiris (for the expression cf. ~Ka/stôr kai\ Poludeu/kês ex
anthrô/pôn êphani/sthêsan~, Isoc., _Archid._ (6), 18, etc.,
frequently).]
[110\15: Stories of the disappearance (non comparuit, nusquam
apparuit = ~êphani/sthê~) of Aeneas and Turnus, King Latinus,
Romulus and others: Preller, _Röm. Myth._^2, pp. 84-5; 683, 2; 704.
Anchises: Procop., _Goth._ iv, 22 fin.]
[111\15: So too Caesar in deorum numerum relatus est non ore modo
decernentium sed et persuasione volgi, Suet., _Jul._ 88.]
[112\15: D.C. 79, 18.--It is natural to suppose that some prophecy
of the return of the great Macedonian was current and encouraged the
attempt to turn the prophecy into a reality and predisposed people
to believe in it. This at least is what happened in the case of Nero
{569} and the false Fredericks of the middle ages. This seems to
have been at the back of the superstitious cult of Alexander
particularly flourishing just at that time (cf. the story told of
the family of the Macriani by Treb. Poll. _xxx Tyr._ 14, 4-6).
Caracalla (Aur. Vict., _Epit._ 21; cf. Hdn. 4, 8; D.C. 77, 7-8) and
Alexander Severus actually regarded themselves as Avatars of
Alexander reborn and incarnated in themselves (the latter was first
called Alexander at his elevation to the principate, certainly
_ominis causa_, and was supposed to have been born, on the
anniversary of Alexander's death, in A.'s temple: Lamprid., _Al.
Sev._ 5, 1; 13, 1, 3, 4. He paid special honour to Alex., and as we
are expressly told by Lamp. 64, 3, se magnum Alexandrum videri
volebat).]
[113\15: The Christian anticipation of the return of Nero (as
Antichrist) is well known: he was supposed to have disappeared and
not to have died. They based their expectation, however, on a
widespread belief of the populace which the various ~Pseudone/rônes~
who actually appeared turned to their advantage (Suet., _Ner._ 57;
Tac., _H._ i, 2; ii, 8: Luc., _Indoct._ 20).]
[114\15: This was the idea lying behind the deification of Antinous
commanded by the Emperor; as may be seen from the connexion in which
Celsus speaks of the matter (ap. Orig., _Cels._ 3, 36, p. 296
Lomm.): he mentions the disappearance of Ant. in the same context as
the translation of Kleomedes, Amphiaraos, Amphilochos, etc. (c.
33-4).--The language in which the deification of Ant. is spoken of
on the obelisk at Rome gives no precise idea of what happened: see
Erman, _Mit. arch. Inst. röm. Abt._ 1896, p. 113 ff.--In this case,
then, we have a translation effected by a river-god: cf. the
water-nymphs mentioned above, n. 105. In the same way Aeneas
disappeared into the river Numicius: Serv., _Aen._ xii, 794; Sch.
Veron., _Aen._ i, 259; D.H. i, 64, 4; Arnob. i, 36; Ov., _M._ xiv,
598 ff.; Liv. i, 2, 6. cf. the fable of Alex. the Great's
translation into a river: n. 107. Euthymos in the same way vanished
into the river Kaikinos (supposed to be his real father: Paus. 6, 6,
4); see above, chap. iv, n. 116.]
[115\15: Philostr., _V. Ap._ viii, 29-30 (not indeed from Damis as
Ph. himself definitely asserts; but certainly from sincere accounts
derived from the various adherents of Apoll.--none of the facts in
the biography are Phil.'s own invention). Apoll. either died in
Ephesos or disappeared (~aphanisthê=nai~) in the temple of Athene at
Lindos or disappeared in the temple of Diktynna in Crete and
ascended to heaven ~autô=| sô/mati~ (as Eus. _adv. Hierocl._ 44,
408, 5 Ks. rightly understands it). This was the legend generally
preferred. His ~aphanismo/s~ was confirmed by the fact that no grave
or cenotaph of Apoll. was to be found: Philostr. viii, 31 fin. The
imitation of the legends about the disappearance of Empedokles is
obvious.]
[116\15: ~tou= Apollôni/ou ex **anthrô/pôn êdê o/ntos,
**thaumazome/nou de\ epi\ tê=| metabolê=| kai\ mêd' antile/xai
tharrou=ntos mêde/nos hôs ouk a tha/natos eiê~, Philostr. viii, 31.
Then follows a miracle vouchsafed to an unbelieving Thomas to whom
Apoll. himself appears.]
[117\15: Pre-existence of the soul, return of the souls of the good
to their home with God, punishment of the wicked, complete
~athanasi/a~ of all souls as such--all this belongs to the wisdom of
Solomon. The Essene doctrine of the soul as described by Jos., _BJ._
2, 8, 11, is also thoroughly Greek; it belongs to the
Stoico-Platonic teaching (i.e. the Neopythagorean variety); see
Schwally, _Leben n. Todt n. Vorst. alt. Israël_, p. 151 ff., 179 ff.
[1892]. The _carmen Phocylideum_ is the work of some Jewish author
who obscurely mixes up {570} Platonic ideas with those of Greek
theologians (cf. 104 where Bgk., _PLG._ ii, p. 95, rightly defends
the MSS. ~theoi/~ against Bernays), and of the Stoics (108)--adding
also ideas derived from the Jewish doctrine of the resurrection (115
at least is completely Greek: ~psuchê\ d' atha/natos kai\ agê/rôs
zê=| dia\ panto/s~). In Philo's doctrine of the soul everything
comes from Platonic or Stoic sources.]
[118\15: e.g. in Sikyon as it appears: Paus. 2, 7, 2.]
[119\15: Perhaps in _Epigr. Gr._ ed. Kaibel (which will be referred
to in this section as _Ep._), 35a, p. 517; but this belongs to the
fourth century B.C. A late example (in prose, _IG. Sic. et It._
1702.]
[120\15: ~gai=an e/chois elaphra/n~, _Ep._ 195, 4; cf. 103, 9; 538,
7; 551, 4; 559, 3; _IG. Sic. et It._ 229; Rhodian inscr., _IGM.
Aeg._ i, 151, 3-4 (first-second century A.D.); ~alla\ su/, dai=mon,
tê=| phthime/nê| kou/phên gai=an hu/perthen e/chois~.--Eur. already
has something similar: _Alc._ 463: see above, chap. xii, n. 121.]
[121\15: The confusion of ideas is evident, e.g. in _Ep._ 700,
~kou=phon e/chois gai/ês ba/ros eusebi/ês eni\ chô/rô|~, cf. 222b,
11-12.--The real meaning of such wishes is indicated by Luc.,
_Luct._ 18; the dead son says to his mourning father, ~de/dias mê/
soi apopnigô= katakleisthei\s en tô=| mnê/mati~.]
[122\15: ~Phersepho/nês tha/lamos, tha/lamoi~, _Ep._ 35, 4; 50, 2;
201, 4; 231, 2; _Anth. Pal._ vii, 507-8 "Simonides". ~phthime/nois
ae/naos tha/lamos~, _Ep._ 143, 2. ~do/mos Nukto/s~, _AP._ vii, 232.
(We need not hesitate to use the grave-epigrams in the _Anthology_
side by side with the actual sepulchral inss. The former are
sometimes the models of the latter, sometimes modelled upon actual
epitaphic inscriptions, but always closely related to the more
literary epitaphs.)]
[123\15: ~Lê/thês pausi/ponon po/ma~, _Ep._ 244, 10. ~ê\n katabê=|s
es pô=ma Lê/thês~, 261, 20. (~Nu/x, lê/thês dô=ra phe/rous' ep'
emoi/~, 312.) ~Moi=rai kai\ Lê/thê me katê/gagon eis Ai/dao~, 521.
(Cf. _AP._ vii, ~Lê/thês do/moi~, 25, 6; ~Lê/thês limê/n~, 498;
~Lê/thês pe/lagos~, 711, 716.) ~La/thas ê/luthon eis lime/as~,
Mysian inscr. _BCH._ xvii (1894), p. 532, n. 34.]
[124\15: ~hoi plei/ous~ = the dead (like the Latin _plures_: Plaut.,
_Trin._ 291, Petron. 42): ~es pleo/nôn~ in Hades, _Ep._ 373, 4;
_AP._ vii, 731, 6; xi, 42. Already in Ar., _Eccl._ 1073: ~grau=s
anastêkui=a para\ tô=n pleio/nôn~. Call., _Epigr._ 5 (cf. Boisson.
on Eunap., p. 309). Ancient oracle ap. Polyb. 8, 30, 7: ~meta\ tô=n
pleo/nôn = tô=n metêllacho/tôn (Tarentum). Even in the present day:
~'stou\s pollou\s~, Schmidt, _Volksl. d. Neugr._ i, 235.]
[125\15: _Ep._ 266, ~mê\ mu/rou, phi/l' a/ner, me; kai\ auto\s ekei=
ga\r hodeu/sas heurê/seis tê\n sê\n su/ggamon Eutuchi/ên~. Cf. 558,
5 ff.; 397, 5. Phrygian inscr., _Papers American School_, iii, 305
(n. 427): a father addressing his dead son ~kai\ polu\ tersane/ô
to/te da/kruon hê/nika sei=o psuchê\n athrê/sô gê=n
hupodusa/menos~.]
[126\15: ~ei de/ tis en phthime/nois kri/sis, hôs lo/gos amphi\
thano/ntôn~, _Ep._ 215, 5. A mother boasts of the piety of her son
to Rhadamanthys: 514, 5 (cf. 559, 3 f.). So too, in _AP._ vii there
is little mention of a judgment (596 Agathias).]
[127\15: The division of the dead into two classes is implied where
the pious departed is said to be about to dwell ~en maka/ressin~,
etc. But the distinct separation of the dead into two or three
classes [see above, chap. xii, n. 62] is rare in the sepulchral
inscr.: _Ep._ 650, 9 ff., is an exception (but there one company is
~epichthoni/ê~, the other in the _aither_--a Stoic idea.--A peculiar
arrangement, implying the three classes, is given in [Socr.]
_Epist._ 27, 1 (they are in the ~to/pos eus.~ and ~asebô=n~ in
Hades, and in the _aither_): ~tou= ei=te kata\ gê=n en eusebô=n
chô/rô| o/ntos {571} ei/te kat' a/stra (ho/per kai\ ma/la pei/thomai)
Sôkra/tous~.--The same again in _AP._ vii, 370 (Diodor.) ~en Dio\s~
(i.e. in Heaven) ~ê\ maka/rôn~.]
[128\15: There is perhaps no reference in the grave-inss. to the
punishment of the ~asebei=s~, and scarcely any in _AP._ vii (but cf.
377, 7 f. Erykios).]
[129\15: ~psuchê\ d' es to\ di/kaion e/bê~, _Ep._ 502, 13; i.e. to
the place to which it justly belongs.]
[130\15: ~nai/eis _maka/rôn nê/sous_ thali/ê| eni\ pollê=|~, _Ep._
649, 2; 366, 6; 648, 9. ~nê=son e/cheis maka/rôn~, 473, 2; 107, 2;
_AP._ vii, 690, 4. ~maka/rôn pedi/on~, _Ep._ 516, 1-2. ~_Êlu/sion_
pedi/on~ 414, 8; 150, 6. ~pedi/a Êlu/sia~, 338, 2; 649, 3. ~chô=ros
êlu/sios~ 618a, 8. ~met' eusebe/ôn esme\n en Êlusi/ô|~, 554,
4.--~nai/ô d' _hêrô/ôn_ hiero\n do/mon, ouk Ache/rontes; toi=on ga\r
bio/tou te/rma sophoi=sin e/ni~, _Ep._ 228, 7-8. ~hêrô/ôn chô=ron
e/chois phthi/menos~, 539, 4. ~Lêtogene/s, su\ de\ pai=das en
hêrô/essi phula/ssois, eusebe/ôn aei\ chô=ron epercho/menos~, 228b,
7 (p. 520). ~ô/|chet' es _hêmithe/ous_~, 699 (~soi\ me\n he/drê
thei/oisi par' andra/si~, _AP._ vii, 659, 3).]
[131\15: Description of the charms of the ~maka/rôn nê=soi~ and the
Elysian fields where ~oude\ potheino\s anthrô/pôn e/ti bi/otos~,
_Ep._ 649. More elaborate in the poem of Marcellus on Regilla the
wife of Herodes Att.: _Ep._ 1046 (she is ~meth' hêrô/|nêsin en
maka/rôn nê/soisin, hi/na Kro/nos embasileu/ei~, 8-9; Zeus had
dispatched her thither with soft breezes, ~es ôkeano/n~, 21 ff. Now
she is ~ou thnêtê/, ata\r oude\ the/aina~ but a Heroine, 42 ff. In
the ~choro\s protera/ôn hêmithea/ôn~ she serves as an ~opa/ôn
nu/mphê~ of Persephone, 51 ff.).]
[132\15: Clearly e.g. the place where Rhadamanthys holds sway in
Hades, _Ep._ 452, 18-19.]
[133\15: The ~chô=ros eusebe/ôn~ clearly indicates Hades: ~Ai/deô
nuchi/oio me/las hupede/xato ko/lpos, eusebe/ôn th' hosi/ên eu/nasen
es klisi/ên~, _Ep._ 27, 3-4; cf. inscr. from Rhodes, _IGM. Aeg._ i,
141, of an old schoolmaster--~eusebô=n chô=ros [sph' e/chei];
Plou/tôn ga\r auto\n kai\ Korê katô/|kisan, Hermê=s te kai\
da|dou=chos Heka/tê, prosph[ilê=] ha/pasin ei=nai, mustikô=n t'
epista/tên e/taxan auto\n pi/steôs pa/sês cha/rin~.--Not
infrequently Elysion and the place of the ~eusebe/es~ are
identified: e.g. _Ep._ 338, ~eusebe/es de\ psuchê\n~ (sc. ~e/chousi)
kai\ pedi/ôn te/rmones Êlusi/ôn. tou=to saophrosu/nês e/lachon
ge/ras, ambrosi/ên de\~ (the immortality of her soul) ~sô/matos
hubristê\s ouk epa/têse chro/nos. alla\ ne/ê nu/mphê|si~ (thus the
stone: _Ath. Mitt._ iv, 17) ~met' eusebe/essi kathê=tai~.--If there
is a judgment in Hades ~oikê/seis eis do/mon eusebe/ôn~, _Ep._ 215,
5-6. Kore conducts the dead ~chô=ron ep' eusebe/ôn~, 218, 15-16.
~ka/stin en eusebe/ôn hê\n dia\ sôphrosu/nên~, 569, 12. ~eusebe/ôn
chô=ros~, 296. ~eus. do/mos~, 222, 7-8. ~eusebe/ôn nai/ois hiero\n
do/mon~, _IPE._ ii, 298, 11. ~psuchê\ d' eusebe/ôn oi/chetai eis
tha/lamon~, _Ep._ 90 (_CIA._ ii, 3004). ~eus. eis hierou\s
thala/mous~, 222b, 12. ~eus. en skieroi=s thala/mois~, 253, 6.
~esthla\ de\ nai/ô dô/mata Phersepho/nas chô/rô| en eusebe/ôn~, 189,
5-6. ~met' eusebe/essi kei=sthai, ant' aretê=s~, 259. ~thê=k' Ai/dês
es mucho\n eusebe/ôn~, 241a, 18. ~eusebi/ês d' hei/neken eusebe/ôn
chô=ron e/bê phthi/menos~, _Ath. Mitt._ xi, 427 (Kolophon). Late
Roman inscr., _IG. Sic. et It._ 1660: a wife says of her dead
husband ~peri\ hou= de/omai tou\s katachthoni/ous theou/s, tê\n
psuchê\n eis tou\s eusebei=s katata/xai~.]
[134\15: The ~chô=ros maka/rôn~ in the sky: ~psuchê\ d' athana/tôn
boulai=s epidê/mio/s estin a/strois kai\ hiero\n chô=ron e/chei
maka/rôn~, _Ep._ 324, 3-4. ~kai\ nai/eis maka/rôn nê/sous . . .
augai=s en katharai=sin, Olumpou plêsi/on o/ntôs~, 649, 2, 8. The
~êlu/sion pedi/on~ outside the ~phthime/nôn do/moi~, 414, 8, 6.
Sometimes both the heavenly abode of the blessed and the Islands of
the Blest occur together: [Luc.] _Dem. Enc._ 50. {572} Demosth. is
after his death either in the ~maka/rôn nê/sois~ with the Heroes,
or else in the ~ourano/s~ as an attendant daimon on ~Zeu\s
Eleuthe/rios~.]
[135\15: ~psuchê\ pro\s _O/lumpon_ anê/llato~, _Ep._ 646a, 3.
~psuchê\ d' en Olu/mpô|~, 159, 261, 11. ~ê=lthen d' eis Aidao
de/mas, psuchê\ d' es O/lumpon~, _AP._ vii, 362, 3. (~Ai/dês~ here =
the grave as often; so too in _Ep._ 288, 4-5, ~psuchê\ . . . es
aithe/ra . . . oste/a eis Ai/dên a/tropos ei=le no/mos.) meta\
po/tmon horô= pha/os Oulu/mpoio~, _AP._ vii, 678, 5.--~psuchê\n d'
ek mele/ôn _ourano\s_ euru\s e/chei~, _Ep._ 104b, 4. ~ê=tor d'
ouranô=| meta/rsion~, 462, 6. ~psuchê\ moi nai/ei dô/mat'
epoura/nia~, 261, 10 (and frequently in this poem in various forms).
~es ourani/as atarpou\s psuchê\ paptai/nei sô=m' apodusame/nê~,
_AP._ vii, 337, 7; cf. also 363, 3; 587, 2; 672, 1 and ix, 207-8.
~_aithê\r_ me\n psucha\s hupede/xato~, _Ep._ 21 (fifth century B.C.,
see above, chap. xii, n. 149). ~Euruma/chou psuchê\n kai\
huperphia/lous dianoi/as aithê\r hugro\s e/chei~, 41 (fourth century
B.C. but the ~aithê/r~ is not "moist"--~aithê\r lampro\s e/chei~ is
the more primitive version of the phrase given in the corresponding
epigr. of the ~Pe/plos.~ The ~aê/r~ would be ~hugro/s~: ~tên
psuchê\n ape/dôken es ae/ra~, _Ep._ 642, 7). ~psuchê\n me\n es
aithe/ra kai\ Dio\s aula/s~, 288, 4. ~psuchê\ d' aithe/rion
kate/chei po/lon~, 225, 3. ~es ai/thrên psuchê\ e/bê eme/then~, 325,
5.--~psuchê\ d' athana/tôn boulai=s epidê/mio/s estin _a/strois_~,
Ep. 324, 3. From Thyatira, _BCH._ 1887, p. 461: ~tha/psen d'
adelpho\s Arche/laos sô=m' emo/n, psucha\ de/ meu pro\s a/stra kai\
theou\s ESI~ (read ~e/bê~). One company of the souls ~tei/ressi su\n
aitheri/oisi choreu/ei; hê=s stratiê=s hei=s eimi~, _Ep._ 650, 11-12
(Diogenes) ~nu=n de thanô\n aste/ras oi=kon e/chei~, _AP._ vii, 64,
4.]
[136\15: ~psuchê\ d' ek rhethe/ôn ptame/nê meta\ dai/monas a/llous
ê/luthe sê/, nai/es d' en maka/rôn dape/dô|~, _Ep._ 243, 5-6. ~kai/
me theô=n maka/rôn kate/chei do/mos a=sson io/nta, ourani/ois te
do/moisi ble/pô pha/os Êrigenei/ês~, 312, 6.--~tê\n su/neton
psuchê\n maka/rôn eis ae/ra dou=sa, pro/sthen me\n thnêtê/, nu=n de\
theô= me/tochos~, 654, 4-5.--~alla\ nu=n eis tou\s theou/s~ _IG.
Sic. et It._ 1420. ~hôs de\ phu/sis me\n e/lusen apo\ chthono/s,
atha/natoi me\n auto\n e/chousi theoi\ sô=ma de\ sêko\s ho/de~,
_AP._ vii, 570; 61, 2; 573, 3-4.]
[137\15: See above, chap. xii, p. 436 ff.]
[138\15: See above, p. 500 f. ~pneu=ma~, _Ep._ 250, 6; 613, 6;
~pneu=ma labô\n da/nos ourano/then tele/sas chro/non antape/dôka~
(cf. ~pneu=ma ga/r esti theou= chrê=sis thnêtoi=si~, _Carm. Phoc._
106). 156, 2: ~pnoiê\n aithê\r e/laben pa/lin, ho/sper e/dôken~
(third century B.C.; see Köhler on _CIA._ ii, 4135).--This
conception having become popular frequently occurs in the
theological poetry of later times: e.g. ~chrêsmo/s~ ap. Stob.,
_Ecl._ 1, 49, 46, i, p. 414 W.: ~to\ me\n (to\ sô=ma) luthe/n esti
ko/nis, psuchê\ de\ pro\s ai/thrên ski/dnatai, hoppo/then ê=lthe,
metê/oros eis aithe/r' haplou=n~ (read ~aithe/r' es _hagno/_~).
Oracle of Apoll. Tyan. ap. Philostr., _VA._ viii, 31: ~atha/natos
psuchê\ . . . meta\ sô=ma maranthe\n . . . rhêidi/ôs prothorou=sa
kera/nnutai êe/ri kou/phô|~.]
[139\15: ~psuchê\n d' _atha/naton_ koino\s e/chei tha/natos~, _Ep._
35, 6 (_CIA._ ii, 3620, fourth century B.C.). _IG. Sic. et It._ 940,
3-4: ~athana/tê psuchê\ me\n es aithe/ri kai\ Dio\s augai=s
pôta=tai~. ib. 942: ~. . . entha/de kei=mai, _ouchi\ thanô/n_;
thnê/skein mê\ le/ge tou\s agathou/s~ (from Call., _Epigr._ 11,
~ta=|de Sa/ôn . . . hiero\n hu/pnon koima=tai. thna/skein mê\ le/ge
tou\s agathou/s).--_ouk e/thanes_, Prô/tê, mete/bês d' es amei/nona
chô=ron~ _Ep._ 649.]
[140\15: This retains its full and original meaning (as in Call.,
Epigr. 11); cf. _Ep._ 559, 7, ~le/ge Popili/ên heu/dein a/ner; ou
themito\n thnê/skein tou\s agathou/s, all' hu/pnon hêdu\n e/chein~.
More often as a mere conventional phrase: 433; 101, 4; 202, 1; 204,
7; ~s' ekoi/misen hu/pnos ho lê/thês~, 223, 3; 502, 2; _AP._ vii,
29, 1; 30, 2, 260.]
[141\15: _Ep._ 651: ~thnêto\n sô=ma . . . to\ d' atha/naton es
maka/rôn ano/rouse {573} ke/ar; psuchê\ ga\r aei/zôs hê\ to\ zê=n
pare/chei kai\ theo/phin kate/bê . . . sô=ma chitô\n psuchê=s~ (cf.
Emp. 414 M. = _fr._ 126 D., ~sarkô=n periste/llousa chitô=ni~ sc.
~tê\n psuchê/n); to\n de\ theo\n se/be mou~ (the god in me, my
~psuchê/~). 261, 6, ~tê\n psuchê\n d' athana/tên e/lachon; en gai/ê|
me\n sô=ma to\ suggene/s oura/nios de\ ê/luthen hê psuchê\ dô=ma
kat' ou phthi/menon ktl.~; cf. 320, 6 ff.--594 (late epitaph of a
doctor with philosophic leanings; found in Rome, 7 ff.: ~oud' a/ra
thnêto\s e/ên, hup' ana/gkês hupsime/dontos tu/mbô| einale/ô|
pepedême/nos ê/nusen oi=mon. ek rhethe/ôn d' a/ma steichôn semno\n
e/bê Dio\s oi=kon~. No sense can be made of the passage if ~tu/mbô|~
is understood as the real grave and this has led to altering or
straining the sense of ~einale/ô|~ (~einali/ô|~ Franz, ~sigale/ô|~
Jacobs). But the poet means: the dead man was (in his real nature,
his soul) immortal, only the will of the gods had caused him (his
soul) to be bound to the body and to complete his course of life in
the body, after the end of which he will rise immediately (and
return) to the realm of the gods. Read therefore ~tu/mbô| _ein
alaô=|_ pepedême/nos~, fettered in the "dark grave" of the body:
~sô=ma = sê=ma~. (Exactly as in Verg., _A._ vi, 734, the animae:
clausae tenebris et carcere caeco.)--603: he who lies buried here
~thnêtoi=s psuchê\n pei/sas epi\ sô/masin elthei=n tê\n hautou=,
me/leos, ouk ane/peise me/nein~. That is: he has persuaded his
(previously living and bodiless) soul to enter into the realm of
mortal bodies (to occupy a body), but could not persuade it to
remain there long--in this earthly life.]
[142\15: Once at the most: ~_ei_ pa/lin e/sti gene/sthai . . . _ei_
d' ouk e/stin pa/lin elthei=n~--_Ep._ 304 (cf. above, chap. xii, n.
138).]
[143\15: The epitaphs quoted in n. 141 have a theological meaning
but do not allude to any specifically Platonic opinion or doctrines.
There is no need to see Platonic influence (as Lehrs would: _Pop.
Aufs._^2, p. 339 f.) in the numerous epitaphs that speak of the
ascent of the soul into the _aither_, the stars, etc. (notes 135,
136). It is true that Alexis 158 K. inquires whether the view that
the body decays after death--~to\ d' atha/naton exê=re pro\s to\n
ae/ra~--is not Platonic doctrine (~tau=t' ou scholê\ Pla/tônos~).
But he has no real knowledge of Platonic teaching and calls Platonic
that idea of the ascent of the souls of the dead into the upper
regions which had long been popular in Athens--even before Plato's
time. In fact Plato's doctrine has only the most distant resemblance
to the popular one, and the latter originated and persisted without
being influenced at all by Plato or his school.]
[144\15: _Ep._ 650, 12. I belong to the company of the blessed which
~tei/ressi su\n aitheri/oisi choreu/ei, lachô\n theo\n hêgemonê=a~.
These last words must refer to a special relation of a pious kind to
some god. We may note the conclusion of the _Caesares_ of Julian
(336 C): Hermes addresses the Emperor: follow the ~entolai/~ of
~patê\r Mi/thras~ in life, ~kai\ hêni/ka a\n enthe/nde apie/nai
de/ê|, meta\ tê=s agathê=s elpi/dos _hêgemo/na theo\n eumenê=_
kathista\s seautô=|~. Cf. also the promise made in an Egyptian magic
papyrus ed, Parthey, _Abh. Berl. Ak._ 1865, p. 125, l. 178 ff.: the
ghost thus conjured up will after your death ~sou= to\ pneu=ma
basta/xas eis ae/ra a/xei su\n hautô=|, eis ga\r a/|dên ou chôrê/sei
ae/rion pneu=ma _sustathe\n_~ (i.e. commended) ~_krataiô=|
pare/drô|_~. Cf. Pl., _Phd._ 107 D ff.: the souls of the dead are
conducted each by the ~dai/môn ho/sper zô=nta eilê/chei~ to the
judgment place: thence they go ~eis ha=|dou meta\ hêgemo/nos
ekei/nou hou= dê\ proste/taktai tou\s enthe/nde ekei=se poreu=sai~.
Afterwards yet another, ~a/llos hêgemô/n~ as it appears, leads them
back again. A blessed abode hereafter is found by ~hê katharô=s te
kai\ metri/ôs to\n bi/on diexelthou=sa kai\ xunempo/rôn kai\
_hêgemo/nôn theô=n tuchou=sa_~, 108 C. The same idea occurs on the
monument of Vibia (in the Catacombs of Praetextatus in Rome):
_Mercurius nuntius_ {574} conducts her (and Alcestis) before
Dispater and Aeracura to be tried: after that a special _bonus
angelus_ leads her to the banquet of the blessed (_CIL._ vi, 142).
There is nothing Christian in this, any more than in the whole
monument or its inscriptions. (The "angel" as an intermediate being
between gods and men had long been taken from Jewish religion by
heathen belief and philosophy: they were sometimes identified with
the Platonic ~dai/mones~: see R. Heinze, _Xenokrat._ 112 f. These
intermediate natures, the ~a/ggeloi~, have nothing to do with the
old Greek conception of certain gods as "Messengers" or of the Hero
~Eua/ggelos~, etc. [cf. Usener, _Götternamen_, 268 ff.].) With the
fanciful picture of Vibia we may compare (besides the Platonic
passages mentioned above) what Luc., _Philops._ 25, has to say of the
~neani/as pa/gkalos~ who leads the souls into the underworld (~hoi
agago/ntes auto/n~ less precisely in the parallel narrative of
Plutarch, _de An. fr._ 1, ap. Eus., _PE._ 11, 36, p. 563 D).]
[145\15: Hermes the conductor of the souls as ~a/ggelos
Phersepho/nês~ _Ep._ 575, 1. Hermes brings the souls to Eubouleus
and Persephone, _Ep._ 272, 9.--He leads the souls to the ~maka/rôn
êlu/sion pedi/on~, 414, 9; 411; to the Islands of the Blest, 107, 2.
He leads them by the hand to heaven, to the blessed gods, 312, 8
ff.]
[146\15: _Ep._ 218, 15, ~alla\ su/, pambasi/leia thea/, poluô/nume
koura/, tê/nd' a/g' ep' eusebe/ôn chô=ron, e/chousa chero/s~. 452,
17 ff. Of the souls of the dead man, his wife and children it is
said: ~de/cheo es Ha/idou~ (Hades does not admit everyone: cf. the
dead man who prays ~hoi\ stu/gion chô=ron huponai/ete dai/mones
esthloi/, de/xasth' eis Aï/dên kame\ to\n oiktro/taton~, 624),
~po/tnia nu/mphê, ki\ psucha\s prou/pempe, hi/na xantho\s
Rhada/manthus~. To be thus received and conducted by a god or
goddess is evidently regarded as a special favour. The abode of the
~eusebei=s~ is reached by those who have honoured Persephone before
all other deities: _IG. Sic. et It._ 1561. Zeus too conducts the
souls, _Ep._ 511, 1: ~anti/ se kudali/mas areta=s, poluê/rate
kou=re, hê=xen es Êlu/sion auto\s a/nax Kroni/dês (theo/s~, 516,
1-2). Speaking of a Ptolemy who has died young, Antipater Sid. says
(_AP._ vii, 241, 11 ff.) ~ou de/ se nu\x ek nukto\s ede/xato; dê\
ga\r a/naktas toi/ous ouk Aï/das, Zeu\s d' es o/lumpon a/gei~.
Apollo also: Parmenis buried by her parents says ~[nu=n mega/l]ou~
(to be restored in some such fashion) ~de/ m' e/chei te/menos Dio/s,
ho/rra/ t' _Apo/llôn_ [loig]ou=~ (doubtful completion) ~a/meipsen,
_helô\n ek puro\s_ atha/naton~, _IGM. Aeg._ i, 142
(Rhodos).--Tibull. is clearly imitating Greek poetry when he says
(1, 3, 57) sed me quod facilis tenero sum semper Amori ipsa Venus
campos ducet ad Elysios (the poet himself explains why it should be
Venus: he has specially honoured her. There is no need to imagine a
Venus Libitina). Phleg., _Mirab._ 3, p. 130, 16 ff. West. [73, 1
Kell.]: ~Phoi=bos Apo/llôn Pu/thios . . . moi heo\n kratero\n
thera/pont'~ (the daimonic wolf) ~epipe/mpsas ê/gagen eis maka/rôn
te do/mous kai\ Persephonei/ês~.]
[147\15: Isidote, hierophantis in Eleusis (grand-daughter of the
famous sophist Isaios) is called by her epitaph (~Eph. Arch.~ 1885,
p. 149, l. 8 ff.) ~e/xochon e/n t' aretai=s e/n te saophrosu/nais;
hê\n kai\ ameibome/nê Dêô\ maka/rôn epi\ nê/ssous ê/gage, pantoi/ês
ekto\s epôduni/ês~. (l. 20 ~hê=n kai\ Dêmê/têr ô/pasen
athana/tois~.)]
[148\15: By their noble death the gods show ~hôs a/meinon ei/ê
anthrô/pô| tethna/nai ma=llon ê\ zô/ein~, Hdt. i, 31; cf. [Pl.]
_Axioch._ 367 C; Cic., _TD._ i, 113; Plu., _Cons. ad Apoll._ 13, 108
E; cf. Amm. Marc. 25, 3, 15.--The epitaph of Isidote alludes to the
legend, l. 11: ~dô=ke~ (Demeter) ~de/ hoi tha/naton glukerô/teron
hêde/os hu/pnou pa/gchu kai\ Argei/ôn phe/rteron êïthe/ôn.~] {575}
[149\15: ~Gêrale/ên psuchê\n ep' akmai/ô| sô/mati Glau=kos kai\
ka/llei kera/sas krei/ttona sôphrosu/nên, o/rgia pa=sin e/phaine
brotoi=s phaesi/mbrota Dêou=s einaete/s, deka/tô| d' ê=lthe par'
athana/tous. ê= kalo\n ek maka/rôn mustê/rion, ou mo/non ei=nai to\n
tha/naton thnêtoi=s ou kako/n, all' agatho\n~, ~Eph. Arch.~ 1883,
pp. 81-2 (third century A.D.). Below the statue of a daughter of
this Glaukos, at Eleusis, there is an inscr., ~Glau/kou de\ gnôtê\
theoeide/os, ho/s te kai\ auto\s _hierophantê/sas ô/|chet' es
athana/tous_~, ~Eph. Arch.~ 1894, p. 205, n. 26, l. 11 ff.]
[150\15: As a conventional formula; [D.H.] _Rhet._ 6, 5: ~epi\
te/lei~ (of the funeral oration) ~peri\ psuchê=s anagkai=on eipei=n,
ho/ti atha/natos, kai\ ho/ti tou\s toiou/tous, en theoi=s o/ntas,
amei=non i/sôs apalla/ttein~.]
[151\15: ~--to\n atha/natoi phile/eskon; tou/neka kai\ pêgai=s
lou=san en athana/tois~ (we are reminded of the ~atha/natos pêgê/~
out of which Glaukos drew ~athanasi/a~: Sch. Pl., _Rp._ 611 C),
~kai\ maka/rôn nê/sous ba/llon es athana/tôn~, _Ep._ 366, 4 ff.
There are two fountains in Hades, that (to the left) of Lethe, and
(to the right) of Mnemosyne, from which cold water flows (l. 5):
from the latter the guardians will give the suppliant soul water to
drink ~kai\ to/t' e/peit' a/lloisi meth' hêrô/essin ana/xei~:
sepulchral tablet from Petelia (about third century B.C.), _IG. Sic.
et It._ 638 (_Ep._ 1037; Harrison, _Proleg._ 661 ff.). Mutilated
copies of the same original have been found at Eleuthernai in Crete,
_BCH._ 1893-4, p. 126, 629; cf. above, chap. xii, n. 62.--This, in
fact, is the "water of life" so often mentioned in the folk-lore of
many countries; cf. Grimm, _D. Märchen_, n. 97, with _Notes_ iii, p.
178, 328; Dieterich, _Abraxas_, 97 f.; _Nekyia_, 94, 99. This is the
fountain from which Psyche also has to bring water to Venus (Apul.,
_M._ vi, 13-14); and it is certain that in the original Psyche-story
it was not the water of the Styx that was intended (as Apul.
supposes, but of what use would that be?), but the water of the
fountain of life in Hades. It is a _speaking_ fountain, _vocales
aquae_ (Apul. vi, 14), and, in fact, precisely the same as that
mentioned in a unique legend of Herakles given in [Justin.] ~pro\s
He/llênas~ 3 (p. 636, 7, ed. Harnack, _Ber. Berl. Ak._ 1896);
Herakles is called ~ho o/rê pêdê/sas~ (? ~_pidu/sas_~, "making it
gush forth," would be more acceptable) ~hi/na la/bê| hu/dôr
_e/narthron phônê\n apodido/n_~. Herakles makes the mountain gush
forth by striking the speaking water out of the rock. This is
exactly paralleled in the modern Greek stories given by Hahn, _Gr.
u. alb. Märchen_, ii, p. 234; the Lamia who guards the water of life
(~to\ atha/nato nero/~, the phrase often appears in these stories;
cf. also Schmidt, _Griech. Märchen_, p. 233) "strikes with a hammer
on the rock till it opens and she can draw the water of life". This
is the same ancient fairy tale motif. The proper home of this water
of life is probably the lower world, the world of either death or
immortality, though this is not expressly stated in the Herakles
legend nor in the fairy tale of Glaukos who discovered the
~atha/natos pêgê/~ (but probably also in the magic country of the
West. Thus Alexander the Great finds the ~atha/natos pêgê/~ at the
entrance to the ~maka/rôn chô/ra~ acc. to Ps.-Callisth. ii, 39 ff.;
his story shows clear reminiscences of the Glaukos tale, its
prototype, in c. 39 fin., 41, 2).--The Orphic (and Pythagorean)
mythology of Hades (see above: chap. xi, n. 96; chap. xii, nn. 37-8;
chap. vii, n. 21) then proceeded to make use of the folk-tale for
their own purposes. In _Ep._ 658 the prayer also refers to the
Orphic fable (_CIG._ 5772) ~psuchro\n hu/dôr doi/ê soi a/nax
ene/rôn Aïdôneu/s~, and 719, 11, ~psuchê=| dipsô/sê| psuchro\n
hu/dôr metado/s~. They mean: may you live on in complete
consciousness. (The same thing in the negative: the dead man dwells
~ha/ma paisi\ theô=n kai\ lê/thês ouk e/pien liba/da~, 414, 10:
{576} ~ouk e/pion Lê/thês Aïdôni/dos e/schaton hu/dôr~, so that I
can perceive the mourning of the living for my loss, 204, 11. ~kai\
thnê/skôn ga\r e/chô no/on ou/tina baio/n~, 334, 5.--Poetical
allusion in _AP._ vii, 346: ~su\ d' ei the/mis, en phthime/noisi
tou= Lê/thês ep' emoi\ mê/ ti pi/ê|s hu/datos~.--Perhaps something
of the sort already occurs in Pindar; see above, chap. xii, n. 37.)]
[152\15: ~eupsu/chei kuri/a kai\ doi/ê soi ho O/siris to\ psuchro\n
hu/dôr~, _IG. Sic. et It._ 1488; 1705; 1782; _Rev. Arch._ 1887, p.
201. (And once the line ~soi\ de\ Osei/ridos hagno\n hu/dôr Ei=sis
chari/saito~, inscr. from Alexandria: _Rev. Arch._ 1887, p. 199.)
~eupsu/chei meta\ tou= Osei/ridos~, _I. Sic. et It._ 2098. The dead
man is with Osiris, _Ep._ 414, 5. Osiris as lord in the world of the
blessed: _defixio_ from Rome, _I. Sic. et It._ 1047; ~ho me/gas
O/seiris ho e/chôn tê\n katexousi/an kai\ to\ basi/leion tô=n
nerte/rôn theô=n~.--It appears that the legend of the fountain of
Mnemosyne and its cold water was independently developed by the
Greeks and then associated subsequently with the analogous Egyptian
idea or brought into harmony with it (certainly not as e.g.
Böttiger, _Kl. Schr._, thinks, originally belonging to the Egyptians
alone and thence imported into Greece from Egypt). Egyptian Books of
the dead often speak of the cool water that the dead enjoy (cf.
Maspero, _Ét. de mythol. et d'arch. égypt._ 1893, 1, 366 f.), as
well as of the water drawn from the Nile and preserving the youth of
the dead man: Maspero, _Notices et Extraits_, 24, 1883, pp. 99-100.
The formula, "may Osiris give you the cold water" (everlasting life),
does not seem to occur on original Egyptian monuments. It is prob.
therefore modelled by Egyptian Greeks on their own ancient Greek
formula.--On Christian inss. we often have the formula: _spiritum
tuum dominus_ (or _deus Christus_, or a holy martyr) _refrigeret_:
see Kraus, _Realencykl. d. christl. Alterth._ s.v. _refrigerium_.
This is probably, as has been frequently suggested, an imitation of
the heathen formula, like so many features of early Christian burial
usage.]
[153\15: On sarcophagi in Isauria the lion is sometimes represented
on the lid with the inscr. describing the contents: ~ho dei=na zô=n
kai\ phronô=n ane/thêken _heauto\n le/onta_ kai\ tê\n gunai=ka
autou= prote/ran~, etc. On another sarcophagus: ~Lou/kios ane/stêse~
(three names) ~kai\ _heauto\n aeto\n_ kai\ A/mmoukin Babo/ou to\n
pate/ra _aeto\n_ teimê=s cha/rin~, _American School at Athens_, iii,
p. 26, 91-2. These expressions must refer to something quite
different from the otherwise not uncommon practice of representing
lions or eagles on graves. I can only explain them on the
supposition that the dead persons represent themselves and the
relatives named in the forms which had belonged to them in the
mysteries of Mithras, in which lions and lionesses formed the fourth
grade, and eagles, ~aetoi/~ (or ~hie/rakes~) the seventh (cf.
Porph., _Abst._ iv, 16); these are elsewhere called ~pate/res~.]
[154\15: The soul of a dead son (who as it appears from ll. 1, 2, 6
ff. had been killed by a flash of lightning and therefore removed to
a higher state of being [see Append. i]) appears by night to his
mother and confirms her own assertion, ~ouk ê/mên broto/s~, _Ep._
320. The soul of their daughter who has died ~a/ôros~ and
~athala/meutos~ appears to her parents on the ninth day (l. 35)
after death, 372, 31 ff. (The ninth day marks the end of the first
offerings to the dead: see above, chap. v, n. 84; cf. "Apparitions
of the deceased occur most frequently on the ninth day after death":
a German superstition mentioned by Grimm, 1812, n. 856.) It is
significant that the daughter who thus appears in a vision has died
unmarried. The ~a/gamoi~, like the ~a/ôroi~, do not find rest after
death: see Append. vii and iii. The {577} soul of another unmarried
maiden says distinctly that those like herself are especially able
to appear in dreams: ~_êïthe/ois_ ga\r e/dôke theo\s meta\ moi=ran
ole/thron hôs zô/ousi lalei=n pa=sin epichthoni/ois~, _Ep._ 325,
7-8.--It becomes more general, however, in 522, 12-13: ~sô/mata
ga\r kate/luse Di/kê, psuchê\ de\ propa=sa atha/natos di' ho/lou~
(thus the stone, _Ath. Mitt._ xiv, 193) ~pôtôme/nê pa/nt' epakou/ei~
(cf. Eur., _Orest._ 667 ff.).]
[155\15: ~psuchê\ de\~--says his son and pupil to the dead physician
Philadelphos--~ek rhethe/ôn ptame/nê meta\ dai/monas a/llous ê/luthe
sê/, nai/es d' en maka/rôn dape/dô|, hi/lathi kai/ moi o/paze no/sôn
a/kos, hôs to\ pa/roithen, nu=n ga\r theiote/rên moi=ran e/cheis
bio/tou~, _Ep._ 243, 5 ff. (_Inscr. Perg._ ii, 576).]
[156\15: There is a striking conjunction of the most exalted hope
and the most utter unbelief on a single stone: _Ep._ 261.]
[157\15: ~ei/ ge/ ti e/sti (este/) ka/tô~, _CIG._ 6442.--~kata\ gê=s
ei/per chrêstoi=s ge/ras esti/n~, _Ep._ 48, 6; 63, 3. ~ei/ g' en
phthime/noisi/ tis ai/sthêsis, te/knon, esti/n~--_Ep._ 700, 4. ~ei
de/ ti/s esti no/os para\ Tarta/rô| ê\ para\ Lê/thê|~, 722, 5. ~ei
ge/nos eusebe/ôn zô/ei meta\ te/rma bi/oio~, _AP._ vii, 673.--Cf.
above, chap. xii, n. 17.]
[158\15: Call., _Epigr._ 15; _Ep._ 646; 646a (p. xv); 372, 1 ff.]
[159\15: ~hêmei=s de\ pa/ntes hoi ka/tô, tethnêko/tes, oste/a,
te/phra gego/namen, a/llo d' oude\ he/n~, _Ep._ 646, 5 f.; cf. 298,
3-4. ~ek gai/as blastô\n gai=a pa/lin ge/gona~, 75 (third century
B.C.); cf. 438; 311, 5: ~tou=th' ho/ pot' ô/n~ (the I that was once
living has now become these things, viz.), ~stê/lê, tu/mbos,
li/thos, eikô/n~. 513, 2, ~kei=tai anai/sthêtos hô/sper li/thos~
(cf. Thgn. 567 f.) ~êe\ si/dêros~. 551, 3, ~kei=tai li/thos hô/s, hê
pa/nsophos, hê peri/bôtos~.]
[160\15: ~He/stêken me\n He/rôs~ (prob. on the monument) ~heu/dôn
hu/pnon, en phthime/nois de\ ou po/thos, ou philo/tês e/sti
katoichome/nois. all' ho thanô\n kei=tai pedi/ô| li/thos hoi=a
pepêgô/s, eichô/rôn apalô=n sa/rkas aposkeda/sas--ex hu/datos kai\
gê=s kai\ pneu/matos~ (here evidently not in the Stoic sense, but
simply = ~aê/r~) ~êa pa/roithen; alla\ thanô\n kei=mai pa=si~ (all
the elements) ~ta\ pa/nt' apodou/s. pa=sin tou=to me/nei; ti/ de\
to\ ple/on? hoppo/then ê=lthen, eis tou=t' au=t' elu/thê sô=ma
maraino/menon~ (inscr. in Bucharest; Gomperz, _Arch. epigr. Mitt. a.
Oest._ vi, 30).]
[161\15: ~pneu=ma labô\n da/nos ourano/then tele/sas chro/non
antape/dôka~, _Ep._ 613, 6. (This is a commonplace of popular
philosophy: "life is only lent to man"; see Wyttenbach on Plu.,
_Cons. ad Apoll._ 106 F; Upton on Epict. 1, 1, 32 Schw.; cf. usura
vitae _Anth. Lat. Ep._ ed. Bücheler, i, p. 90, n. 183.)]
[162\15: Epitaph from Amorgos: _Ath. Mitt._ 1891, p. 176, which
ends: ~to\ te/los ape/dôka~.]
[163\15: ~dai/môn ho pikro\s ktl.~, _Ep._ 127, 3 (cf. 59).
~asto/rgou moi=ra ki/chen thana/tou~, 146, 6. ~di/ssa de\ te/kna
lipou=san ha pantoba/rês la/be m' Ha/idês, a/kriton a/storgon
thêro\s e/chôn kradi/ên~ (Tyrrheion in Akarnania, _BCH._ 1886, p.
178).]
[164\15: ~pau/sasthai deinou= pe/nthous deinou= te kudoimou=; oude\n
ga\r ple/on (PACIN~ the stone as stated) ~esti/, thano/nta ga\r
oude/na~ (read ~oude\n~) ~egei/rei ktl.~, ins. from Larisa, _Ath.
Mitt._ xi, 451. ~ei d' ê=n tou\s agathou\s ana/gein pa/lin~, ins.
from Pherai, _BCH._ 1889, p. 404.]
[165\15: ~ou kako/s est' Ai/dês~--comfort being derived from the
fact that death is "common". _Ep._ 256, 9-10; 282; 292, 6; 298.]
[166\15: ~eupsu/chei, te/knon, oudei\s atha/natos~, _IG. Sic. et
It._ 1531; 1536 (cf. 1743 ad fin.); 1997 and frequent; _CIG._ 4463;
4467 (Syria), ~eupsu/chei Atala/ntê, ho/sa genna=tai teleuta=|~, _IG.
Sic. et It._ 1832. ~kai\ ho Hêraklê=s ape/thanen~, 1806.--Even on
Christian graves the formula is frequent: ~eupsu/chei (hê dei=na),
oudei\s atha/natos~ (see Schultze, _Die Katakomben_, 251).] {578}
[167\15: ~ouk ê/mên, geno/mên, ouk e/som' ou me/kei moi; ho bi/os
tau=ta~. _IG. Sic. et It._ 2190 (the original form of the ending is
probably ~ouk e/somai; ti/ ple/on~; see Gomperz, _Arch. ep. Mitt.
Oesterr._ vii, 149; _Ztschr. f. öst. Gymn._ 1879, p. 437); cf. _Ep._
1117, ~ouk ê/mên, geno/mên, ê/mên, ouk eimi/; tosau=ta;~ (this
_~tosau=ta~_, or more commonly _~tau=ta~_, is frequent in epitaphs
as a formula of resignation--a summary of existence: "all life comes
to nothing but this." See Loch, _Zu d. griech. Grabschr._
289-95)--~ei de/ tis a/llo here/ei, pseu/setai; ouk e/somai~. _CIG._
6265: ~eupsuchô=, ho/stis ouk ê/mên kai\ egeno/mên, ou/k eimi kai\
ou lupou=mai~ (cf. also _Ep._ 502, 15; 646, 14; _AP._ vii, 339, 5-6;
x, 118, 3-4). Frequent also in a Latin form: Non eris, nec fuisti,
Sen., _Epist._ 77, 11 (see above, chap. xiv, pt. i, n. 68).
Ausonius, p. 252, ed. Schenkl (ex sepulchro latinae viae): nec sum
nec fueram; genitus tamen e nihilo sum. mitte nec explores singula,
talis eris (probably this is how it should be read); cf. _CIL._ ii,
1434; v, 1813, 1939, 2893; viii, 2885, etc.; Bücheler, _Carm. lat.
epigr._ i, p. 116.]
[168\15: ~gnou\s hôs thnatoi=s oude\n glukerô/teron auga=s zê=thi~,
_Ep._ 560, 7. Coarser admonitions to enjoy the passing hour, _CIG._
3846 (iii, p. 1070). _Ep._ 362, 5. ~pai=son, tru/phêson, zê=son;
apothanei=n se dei=~, 439, 480a, 7. An ins. from Saloniki, second
century A.D., _Ath. Mitt._ 1896, p. 99, concludes--~ho bi/os
hou=tos. ti/ stê/hkeis anthrôpe? tau=ta ble/pôn UPALOUSOU
(_apo/lauson_~? Or ~_apolau/ou_~?).]
[169\15: ~ei kai\ . . . phrou=don sô=ma . . . all' areta\ biota=s
aie\n zôoi=si me/testi, psucha=s manu/ous' eukle/a sôphrosu/nên~,
_Ep._ 560, 10 ff. ~sô=ma me\n entha/d' e/chei so/n, Di/phile, gai=a
thano/ntos, mnê=ma de\ sê=s e/lipes pa=si dikaiosu/nês~ (and
elsewhere with variations): _Ep._ 56-8. Or only: . . ~te/lesen de\
kai\ essome/noisi noê=sai stê/lên~, _Ath. Mitt._ 1891, p. 263, 3
(Thessaly). Homeric: see above, chap. i, n. 88, and cf. ~sa=ma toz'
Idameneu\s poi/êsa hi/na kle/ôs ei/ê . . .~ ancient inscr. from
Rhodos: _Ath. Mitt._ 1891, p. 112, 243 (_IGM. Aeg._ i, n. 737).]
[170\15: From an earlier period (_ca._ third century B.C.), _Ep._
44: ~ê\n ho su/neunos e/sterxen me\n zô=san epe/nthêsen de\
thanou=san. phô=s d' e/lip' eudai/môn, pai=das pai/dôn epidou=sa~.
Fine also are 67 and 81b. But something like them appears even late:
647, 5-10; 556: a priestess of Zeus congratulates herself ~eu/teknon
astona/chêton e/chei ta/phos; ou ga\r amaurô=s dai/mones hêmete/rên
e/blepon eusebi/ên~.--To recover for a moment the taste of the old
robust spirit we may remind ourselves of Herodotos' story of Tellos
the Athenian, the happiest of mankind. He was born in a prosperous
city, had fine children and saw the children of all these children,
none of whom died. And his happy life was crowned by a noble end. In
a battle of the Athenians against their neighbours he was successful
in putting the foe to rout and then he himself fell while fighting,
so that his country buried him in the place where he fell and
honoured him greatly. (Hdt. i, 30. Herodotos' Solon does indeed
assign the second prize of happiness to Kleobis and Biton and their
fortunate end: c. 31. A changed attitude to life makes itself felt
in their story.)]
[171\15: Mundus senescens, Cyprian, _ad Demetr._ 3 ff. The
Christians lay the blame for the impoverishment and decay of life on
the heathen. The latter in turn blame the recently arrived and now
dominant Christianity for the unhappiness of the time: Tertull.,
_Apol._ 40 ff.; Arnob. 1; Aug., _CD._ It was already a vulgare
proverbium--Pluvia defit, causa Christiani sunt, _CD._ ii, 3. The
Emp. Julian found ~tê\n oikoume/nên hô/sper lipopsuchou=san~ and
wished ~tê\n phthora\n tê=s oikoume/nês stê=sai~, Liban., _Or._ i,
p. 617, 10; 529, 4.--The Christians returned the compliment: the
reason why everything in nature and the life {579} of men was going
awry is simply paganorum exacerbata perfidia (_Leg. Novell. Theodos.
ii_, i, 3, p. 10 Ritt.).]
[172\15: We know of a certain Nikagoras Minuc. f. (significantly
enough an ardent admirer of Plato) temp. Const. ~da|dou=chos tô=n
hagiôta/tôn Eleusi=ni mustêri/ôn~, _CIG._ 4770. Julian, even as a
boy, was initiated at Eleusis: Eunap., _V. Soph._, p. 53 (Boiss.).
At that time, however, in miserandam ruinam conciderat Eleusina,
Mamert., _Act. Jul._ 9. Here again Julian seems to have restored the
cult. Valentinian I, on the point of abolishing all nocturnal
festivals (see _Cod. Theod. iii_, 9, 16, 7), allowed them to
continue when Praetextatus Procons. of Achaea represented to him
that for the Greeks ~ho bi/os~ would be ~abi/ôtos, ei me/lloien
kôlu/esthai ta\ sune/chonta to\ anthrô/peion ge/nos hagiô/tata
mustê/ria kata\ thesmo\n ektelei=n~, Zosim. iv, 3. (Praetext. was a
friend of Symmachus and, like him, one of the last pillars of Roman
orthodoxy: _princeps religiosorum_, Macr., _S._ i, 11, 1. He was
himself _sacratus Eleusiniis_, and _hierophanta_ there: _CIL._ vi,
1779; probably the ~Praite/xtatos ho hieropha/ntês~ of Lyd., _Mens._
4, 2, p. 148 R. [p. 65 W.], is the same person.) In 375 A.D. we hear
of a Nestorius (probably the father of the Neoplatonic Plutarch) as
~hierophantei=n tetagme/nos~ at the time (Zos. iv, 18). In 396
during the _hierophantia_ of a ~patê\r tê=s Mithriakê=s teletê=s~
(whose oath should have excluded him from that office) the temple of
Eleusis was destroyed by Alaric, incited thereto by the monks who
accompanied him (Eunap., _VS._, p. 52-3). The regular holding of the
festival must then have come to an end.--Evidence of later
celebration of the Eleusinia is not forthcoming. The expressions of
Proclus, which Maass regards as "certainly" proving that the
festival was still being held in the fifth century (_Orpheus_, 15),
are quite insufficient to the purpose. Proclus speaks of various
sacred ceremonies of initiation from which we ~memathê/kamen~
something: of a ~phê/mê~, i.e. written tradition, of certain
unspecified Eleusinian ~theolo/goi~; of what the Eleus. mysteries
~hupischnou=ntai~ to the _mystai_ (just as we might speak in the
present tense of the permanent content of Greek religion). These
passages prove nothing: whereas the imperfects which he uses
elsewhere clearly show that neither temple nor festival existed any
longer in his time. (He speaks, _in Alc._, p. 5 Crz., of what used
to be in the temple of Eleusis and still more of what formerly
occurred ~en toi=s Eleusini/ois hieroi=s--ebo/ôn ktl.~, _in Ti._ 293
C.) The festival moreover cannot have gone on without the temple and
its apparatus.]
[173\15: The Orphic hymns in the form in which we have them all
belong as it seems to one period, and that can hardly have been
earlier than the third century A.D. They are all composed for
practical use in the cult, and that presupposes the existence of
Orphic communities (see Schöll, _Commun. et coll. quib. Graec._
[_Sat. Saupp._], p. 14 ff.; Dieterich, _de H. Orph._).--It must be
admitted that they were not purely and exclusively Orphic
communities for which the poems were written. These hymns, called
"Orphic" a potiori, make use in parts of older Orphic poetry (cf.
_H._ 62, 2 f., with [Dem.] 25, 11).]
[174\15: Probably all these cults promised immortality to their
_mystai_. This is certain in the worship of Isis (cf. Burckhardt,
_Zeit Constantins d. G._^2, p. 195 ff.). Apul., _M._ xi, 21-3,
alludes to symbolic death and reawakening to everlasting life as the
subject of the ~drô/mena~ in the Isis mysteries. The initiated is
thus _renatus_ (21). In the same way the mystai of Mithras are said
to be _in aeternum renati_: _CIL._ vi, 510; 736. Immortality must
certainly have been promised. Acc. to Tert., _Pr. Haer._ 40, the
mysteries of Mithras {580} included an _imago resurrectionis_. By
this the Christian author can only understand a real ~ana/stasis
tê=s sarko/s~. Did these mysteries promise to their ~ho/sioi~ a
resurrection of the body and everlasting life? This belief in the
~ana/stasis nekrô=n~ (always a difficulty for the Greeks: _Act Ap._
xvii, 18; 32; Plotin. 3, 6, 6 fin.) is in fact ancient Persian
(Theopomp. _fr._ 71-2; Hübschmann, _Jb. Prot. Theol._ v, p. 222
ff.), and probably came to the Jews from Persia. It is possible then
that it may have been the essential idea of the Mithras
mysteries.--Hopes of immortality as they appeared to the _mystai_ of
Sabazios are illustrated by the sculptures of the monument of Vibia
(in the Catac. of Praetextatus), and of Vincentius: numinis antistes
Sabazis Vincentius hic est. Qui sacra sancta deum mente pia coluit
(Garrucci, _Tre Sepolcri_, etc., tab. i-iii, Nap. 1852).--It is
difficult to see why Christian archeologists should regard this
Vincentius as a Christian. He calls himself a worshipper of "the
gods" and an _antistes Sabazii_ (there cannot be the slightest
objection to giving this meaning to numinis antistes Sabazis. The
difficulties raised by Schultze, _Katakomben_, 44, are groundless:
Sabazis = Sabazii is no more objectionable or doubtful than the
**genitives Clodis, Helis: see Ritschl, _Opusc._ iv, 454-6. The
arrangement of words, _n. a. Sab._, is due to the exigencies of
metre.]
[175\15: ~hê o/rexis tou= agathou= eis he\n o/ntôs a/gei kai\ epi\
tou=to speu/dei pa=sa phu/sis~, Plot. 6, 5, 1. ~pa/nta ore/getai
ekei/nou kai\ ephi/etai autou= phu/seôs ana/gkê| . . . hôs a/neu
autou= ou du/natai ei=nai~, 5, 5, 12; 1, 8, 2. ~pothei= de\ pa=n to\
gennê=san~ (the ~nou=s~ desires the ~prô=ton~, the ~psuchê/~ the
~nou=s~): 5, 1, 6.]
[176\15: ~hai e/xô tou= aisthêtou= geno/menai (psuchai/)~, Plot. 3,
4, 6. In death ~ana/gein to\ en hêmi=n thei=on pro\s to\ en tô=|
pa/nti thei=on~, Porph., _V. Plot._ 2. Return ~eis patri/da~, Plot.,
5, 9, 1.]
[177\15: 2, 9, esp. § 16 ff.]
[178\15: ~to\ me\n ga\r aischro\n enanti/on kai\ tê=| phu/sei kai\
tô=| theô=|~, 3, 5, 1.]
[179\15: Flight from the ~en sô/mati ka/llos~ to the ~tê=s psuchê=s
ka/llê~, etc., 5, 9, 2. And again in the fine treatise, ~p. tou=
kalou=~, 1, 6, 8. Though even here it is in a different sense from
that in which Plato speaks in the _Symp._ of the ascent from ~kala\
sô/mata~ to ~kala\ epitêdeu/mata~, etc. Plotinos protests
energetically against the idea that his own sense of beauty makes
him any the less ~pheu/gein to\ sô=ma~ than the hatred of beauty
cultivated by the Gnostics: 2, 9, 18. He too waits here below, only
a little less impatiently, for the time when he will be able to say
farewell to every earthly habitation: ib.]
[180\15: ~. . . kai\ hou/tô theô=n kai\ anthrô/pôn thei/ôn kai\
eudaimo/nôn bi/os apallagê\ tô=n tê=|de, bi/os anê/donos tô=n
tê=|de, phugê\ mo/nou pro\s mo/non~, 6, 9, 11 fin.]
{{581}}
APPENDIX I
In many legends death by _lightning_ makes the victim holy and
raises him to godlike (everlasting) life. We need only remember the
story of Semele who now ~zô/ei en Olumpi/ois apothanoi=sa bro/mô|
keraunou=~ (Pi., _O._ ii, 27), or that of Herakles and his vanishing
from the pyre of wood lighted by Zeus' flash of lightning (see
partic. D.S. 4, 38, 4-5), or the parallel accounts of the
translation or death by lightning of Erechtheus (above, chap. iii,
n. 39). The primitive, popular belief finds unusually clear
expression in the words of Charax ap. Anon. _de Incred._ xvi, p.
325, 5 ff. West., who says of Semele, ~keraunou= kataskê/psantos
êphani/sthê; ekei/nên me\n ou=n, _hopoi=a epi\ toi=s dioblê/tois
le/getai, thei/as moi/ras lachei=n ô|ê/thêsan_~. (In this account
Semele is _immediately_ raised to heaven by the flash of
lightning--a version of the story frequently given by later authors:
~Zeu\s tê\n Seme/lên ek tê=s gê=s eis to\n O/lumpon komi/zei dia\
puro/s~, Aristid. 1, p. 47 Dind. [_O._ 41, 3 K.]. Cf. Philostr.,
_Imag._ i, 14; Nonnus, _D._ viii, 409 ff. The passage of Pindar
quoted above would also admit of a similar interpretation.)
Generally speaking, ~ho keraunôthei\s hôs theo\s tima=tai~ (Artem.
2, 9, p. 94, 26) as one ~hupo\ Dio\s tetimême/nos~ (ib. 93, 24). The
belief in such elevation of a mortal through the disruption and
purification of his body by the sacred fire of lightning (a ~pu=r
katha/rsion~ of the highest kind--see chap. i, n. 41) need not be of
late origin simply because it so happens that only late authorities
speak of it in unmistakable terms (as Wilamowitz thinks, _Ind.
Schol. Götting. hib._ 1895, pp. 12-13). Such lofty conceptions were
by this time no longer the product of popular imagination. Besides,
it is quite clearly referred to in the above-mentioned story of
Semele (see esp. D.S. 5, 52, 2) and in those of Herakles,
Erechtheus, Asklepios. In the same way lightning struck the tomb of
Lykourgos (as afterwards that of Euripides) as ~theophile/statos
kai\ hosiô/tatos~ (Plu., _Lyc._ 31). When the statues of the Olympic
victor Euthymos at Locri and Olympia are struck by lightning it
shows that he has become a Hero: Pliny, _NH._ vii, 152. The body of
the person struck by lightning remains uncorruptible: dogs and birds
of prey dare not touch it: Plu., _Smp._ 4, 2, 3, p. 665 B; it must
be buried in the place where the lightning struck it (Artem., p. 95,
6; cf. Fest., p. 178b, 21 ff.; Plin., _NH._ ii, 145). Every detail
shows plainly that the ~dio/blêtos~ was regarded as holy. This,
however, does not prevent death by lightning from being regarded on
other occasions as the punishment of crime--as in the cases of
Salmoneus, Kapaneus, etc.; though in some even of these cases the
idea is occasionally present that the lightning's victim is raised
to a higher existence. This is distinctly so when Euripides in
_Suppl._ makes a character call Kapaneus, who has been killed by
lightning, a ~_hiero\s_ nekro/s~ (935) and his ~tu/mbos~ (_rogus_)
~hiero/s~ too (981). ~hiero/s~ never means {582} "accursed" like the
Lat. _sacer_: it is invariably a title of honour. Kapaneus is here
called "holy" just as Astakides, on his translation to everlasting
life, is ~hiero/s~ in Kallimachos; and as Hesiod speaks of the
~hiero\n ge/nos athana/tôn~ (with ~tu/mbos hiero/s~ cf. S., _OC._
1545, 1763). We must not fail to observe that in this passage, where
a friend of Kap. is supposed to be speaking, the latter is certainly
not regarded by Eurip. as an impious person (as he is generally in
Tragedy, and by Eurip. himself in _Phoen._, and even in _Suppl._ the
enemy so regards him (496 ff.), though acc. to this speaker
Amphiaraos too is snatched away in atonement for his crime).
Euripides in fact makes him highly praised by Adrastos (861 ff.) as
the very opposite of a ~hubristê/s~; and it is obvious that Euadne's
sacrifice of her life which immediately follows is not intended to
be offered for the benefit of a criminal and enemy of the gods. For
these reasons Euripides ennobles the character of Kapaneus and,
consequently, the death of the Hero by lightning can no longer stand
for his punishment, but is on the contrary a distinction. He becomes
a ~_hiero\s_ nekro/s~. This, however, could not have been done by
Eurip. unless the view that such a death might in certain
circumstances bring honour on the victim and elevate him to a higher
plane of being, had been at that time widespread and generally
recognized. Eurip. therefore provides the most distinct evidence for
the existence of such a belief in his time. (As one of the exalted
dead Kapaneus is to be separated from the rest of the dead and burnt
~par' oi/kous tou/sde~: 935, 936, 1009--i.e. before the ~ana/ktoron~
of the Goddesses at Eleusis: 88, 290.)--Finally Asklepios, in all
the stories that are told of his death by lightning (and already in
Hes. _fr._ 109 Rz.), is never regarded as entirely removed from this
life: he lives on as Hero or god for all time, dispensing blessings.
Zeus allows him to live on for ever immortal (Luc., _DD._ 13), and
acc. to later versions of the story, in the constellation Ophiuchus
(Eratosth. ~katast.~ 6; Hygin., _Astron_, ii, 14); the real and
primitive conception evidently being that he was transported to
everlasting life by Zeus' lightning-flash. So Min. Fel. 22, 7, says
quite rightly: Aesculapius, ut in deum surgat, fulminatur.
APPENDIX II
~_maschalismo/s_~
~emaschali/sthê~ is the word used by Aesch., _Cho._ 439, of the
murdered Agamemnon. Soph., _El._ 445, says ~huph' hê=s
(Klutaimnê/stras) thanô\n a/timos hô/ste dusmenê\s
emaschali/sthê~--also of Agamemnon. What particular abomination was
meant by this brief statement must have been immediately understood
by the Athenian public of the day. A more detailed account is given
by Phot. and Suid. ~maschali/smata~ (cf. Hesych. s.v.; Apostol.,
_Pr._ xi, 4), and they give Aristophanes of Byzantium as their
authority. (Not from Aristophanes--for they differ in many
particulars--but from a closely related source come the two versions
{583} of the Scholion to Soph., _El._ 446 and _EM._ 118, 22 f.)
According to their authority ~maschalismo/s~ is something done by
the murderer (~hoi phoneu/santes ex epiboulê=s~--Aristoph.) to the
corpse of the murdered man. He cuts off the extremities of his
victim, strings the severed parts on a chain and puts them on.--On
whom? on himself? or the murdered man? Aristophanes' words are
undecisive: the Schol. Soph., _El._ 445, speaks in the first version
of "himself" (~heautoi=s~, p. 123, 17 Papag.) and in the second of
"him", i.e. the murdered man: ~peri\ tê\n mascha/lên autou=
ekre/mazon auta/ [ta\ a/kra]~, p. 123, 23; cf. 124, 5. This too is
probably the meaning of Schol. Ap. Rh. iv, 477; _EM._ 118, 28-9,
speaks distinctly of hanging the chain round the neck of the dead
man. This is, in fact, the most probable version. The murderer hung
the limbs, strung together on a rope, round the neck of his victim
and then drew the rope under the armpits (~mascha/lai~): a
proceeding which is far from being "impossible" (as has been said),
as anyone may discover by trying it for himself. The murderer then
crossed the ends of the rope over the breast of his victim and after
drawing them under the armpits fastened them behind his back. From
this process of drawing under the armpits the whole procedure is
called ~maschalismo/s~, and the ~mo/ria~ of the dead man thus
fastened to his body are his ~maschali/smata~ (Aristoph.).
Anyone who wishes to reject this description of ~maschalismo/s~ (as
some have done recently) must first of all show from what source
Aristophanes of Byzantium--whom no one who knows him would accuse of
improvizing such details or of concealing his ignorance by
invention--can have got his information if not from actual report
and historical tradition. The possibility that he arrived at it by
straining the meaning and giving a private interpretation of his own
to the words ~maschali/zein~ and ~maschalismo/s~ is excluded by the
nature of these words. They offer no hint whatever in the direction
of the special meaning suggested by his account. We cannot indeed
say (as Wilamowitz does on A., _Cho._ 439) that "grammar" forbids us
to accept the explanation of what happened in ~maschali/zein~ given
by Aristoph. To say: ~emaschali/sthê~, "he had to suffer
~maschali/zein, maschalismo/s~," is equally correct whatever sense
we give to the process of ~maschalismo/s~. But the word itself does
not testify, by its mere form, to the absolute or exclusive
correctness of Aristophanes' interpretation: it denotes without
distinction absolutely any proceeding in which the ~mascha/lai~
figure at all. Verbs in ~-izein~, derived from the names of parts of
the body, can denote according to the circumstances the utmost
variety of actions done to or with the part of the body concerned:
cf. ~kephali/zein, aucheni/zein, trachêli/zein, laimi/zein,
ômi/zein, rhachi/zein, cheiri/zein, daktuli/zein, gastri/zein,
skeli/zein~ (and even ~pugi/zein~). What particular sort of activity
applied to the ~mascha/lai~ is indicated by the verb ~maschali/zein~
cannot be decided from the mere form of the verb. This only makes it
the more necessary to adhere to Aristophanes' interpretation, which
must have been derived from some other source, i.e. from actual
knowledge. It may be true that ~maschali/zein~, considered simply
from {584} the point of view of its form, might conceivably mean to
tear the arm from the shoulder at the armpits (as Benndorf suggests,
_Monument von Adamklissi_, p. 132 A)--though such an ~ekmochleu/ein
to\n brachi/ona ek tê=s mascha/lês~ should rather be
~apomaschali/zein~ or ~ekmaschali/zein~. But that out of its many
possible meanings the verb should have just this particular one is
not suggested by anything: least of all by the sculptured relief on
which the gods appear to be tearing out the right arms of their
defeated enemies. Such scenes according to Benndorf represent
~maschalismo/s~. But can the Greeks really have attributed to the
gods this much execrated practice of cowardly murderers? We are not
told by anyone that this scene represents ~maschalismo/s~--that is
only a conclusion drawn from an apparent agreement between the
representation and the view (itself as yet unproved) of what
happened in ~maschali/zein~. Is the correctness of the meaning
assigned to the word to be proved in its turn from its agreement
with the representation? A most palpable argument in a circle!
There is no valid reason for rejecting the statement of
Aristophanes; and there must be very good reason indeed for so doing
before we may discredit such an authority. He gives his information
with no uncertain voice and no suggestion of hesitation, and it must
be regarded as the simple account of well-established facts. It
would receive additional confirmation--if it needed any--from the
very meaning and conception of the word _~mascha/lisma~_.
~maschali/smata~ must be the product of ~maschalismo/s~; they are,
in fact, the severed ~mo/ria~ of the murdered man, with which too
Aristophanes identifies them. ~Sophoklê=s en **Trôï/lô| plê/rê
maschalisma/tôn ei/rêke to\n maschalismo/n~ (probably a mere
oversight for ~to\n tra/chêlon~): Suid. s.v. ~emaschali/sthê~ (Soph.
_fr._ 566 = 623 P.). If ~maschali/zein~ had consisted in the
dislocation of the arm from its socket, it would be impossible to
say what such ~maschali/smata~ might be. They are without doubt
identical with what are otherwise called, in descriptions of
mutilations of the corpse of a murdered man, ~apa/rgmata~ (Jason
after the murder of Apsyrtos ~apa/rgmata ta/mne thano/ntos~, A.R.
iv, 477; cf. Schol. and _EM._ 118, 22 ff.), ~akrôtêria/smata, to/mia
(ta\ apotmê/mata kai\ akrôtêria/smata tou= nekrou=~, Hesych.). These
expressions allow us to conclude that the whole procedure is
intended to offer the murdered man as a sacrifice to some sort of
~apotro/paioi~. The ~maschali/smata~ are the ~aparchai/~ of this
sacrificial victim. Indeed, Aristoph. of Byzantium, ap. Phot.
[Suid.] ~maschali/smata~, definitely states that ~maschali/smata~
was the name given to ~ta\ toi=s mêroi=s epitithe/mena apo\ tô=n
ômô=n~ (not ~ô/môn~ as the edd. give; as also Nauck, _Arist. Byz._,
p. 221) ~kre/a en tai=s tô=n theô=n thusi/ais~. This refers--though
it does not seem to have been remarked by those who have hitherto
dealt with the passage--to the parts of the body which were cut off
from the raw flesh of the ~hierei=on~ before the sacrifice, laid on
the severed ~mêroi/~ of the victim, and burnt up completely with
these: the _~ômothetei=n~_ in fact so often mentioned in Homer (~A~
460 i.; ~B~ 423 f.; ~g~ 456 ff.; ~m~ 360 f.; ~x~ 427 f.). If these
~ômothetou/mena~ could also be called (in {585} a comparison)
~maschali/smata~, that again shows that at the ~maschalismo/s~ there
was no tearing out of an arm from its socket, but that in reality
the extremities of the murdered man (~--akrôtêria/santes mo/ria
tou/tou~) were hewn off and a piece cut off ~ek panto\s me/rous tou=
sô/matos~ as the grammarians following Aristophanes say. Only in
this case is the proceeding like that which took place at the
~ômothetei=n~ when the sacrificers ~e/kopsan mikro\n apo\ panto\s
**me/lous~ (Aristonic. in Schol. ~A~ 461; Apollon., _Lex. Hom._ 171,
8; _lex. Rhet._ ap. Eust. ~A~ 461, p. 134, 36: ~ômothe/têsan; to\
aph' heka/stou me/lous tou= hierei/ou apete/monto kai\ apê/rxanto
ap' _ômou=~ [so the last word should be written here too, though
Eustath. found--and was surprised--~ô/mou~] ~kai\ ene/balon eis ta\
mêri/a kata\ tê\n thusia/n~). So too it is said of Eumaios: ~ho d'
ômothetei=to subô/tês, pa/ntôn arxa/menos mele/ôn~, ~x~ 427 f. (this
is the passage in which ~hêrmê/neuse [ho poiêtê/s], ti/ esti to\
ômothetei=n~: Schol., B.L. ~A~ 461; it is this passage, and not ~A~
461, which is meant by Hesych. too s.v. ~ômothetei=n~, when he says
~exêgei=tai d' auto\s Ho/mêros~; cf. also Dion. Hal. 7, 72, 15).
~maschalismo/s~ was then essentially an offering intended to avert
evil or, what comes to the same thing, a kathartic offering (i.e. a
symbol indicating such an offering). It was consummated by murderers
~epi\ tai=s katha/rsesin~ (Sch. S., _El._ 445); ~hupe\r tou= tê\n
mê=nin ekkli/nein~ as Aristoph. Byz. says (p. 221 N.); ~to\ e/rgon
aphosiou/menoi~ as we are told by Apostolius, _Prov._ xi, 4. All
these mean the same thing. But besides these there may still have
been another intention present in the minds of the superstitious.
The mutilation of the murdered man took place according to Sch. S.,
_El._ 445 (in the second version; there is something similar even in
the first, p. 123, 18 f.) ~hi/na, phasi/n, asthenê\s ge/noito pro\s
to\ antiti/sasthai to\n phone/a~. The mutilation of the corpse was
transferred to the ~psuchê/~ that was leaving the body--such is the
ancient conception to which Homer too is not a stranger (cf. e.g.
~l~ 40 ff.). If the dead man is mutilated he will not, for example,
be able to hold or throw the spear which in Athens was borne before
the murdered man at his funeral (if he left no kinsman as avenger
behind him) and was then set up beside his grave ([D.] 47, 69: Eur.,
_Tro._ 1147 f.: Poll. viii, 65; Ister ap., _EM._ 354, 33 ff.; _AB._
237, 30 f.)--certainly for no other purpose than that of supplying
the dead man himself with a weapon with which to take vengeance on
his own account since no one else would ~boêthei=~ him. (Thus among
the Tasmanians a spear was planted on the grave of the dead that he
might have a weapon ready for fighting: Quatrefages, _Hommes
fossiles et hommes sauvages_, p. 346.) Probably the Greek murderer
when he ~emascha/lizen~, calculated in exactly the same fashion as
the Australian negro who cuts off the thumb from the right hand of
his fallen foe in order that his soul may no longer be able to hold
a spear (Spencer, _Princ. of Sociol._ i, p. 212).
In Soph., _El._ 446, the murderer after the ~maschalismo/s~ also
wipes the bloody instrument of death on the head of the murdered
man. Murderers did this ~hô/sper apotropiazo/menoi to\ mu/sos to\ en
tô=| pho/nô|~ {586} (Schol.). There are passages in the Odyssey
which allude to the custom (~me/ga e/rgon, ho\ sê=| kephalê=|
anama/xeis~, ~t~ 92) as well as in Herodotos and Demosthenes (see
Schneidewin on _Electra_). Their meaning is quite correctly given in
Eust. on _Od._ ~t~ 92: ~hôs eis kephalê\n dê=then ekei/nois (toi=s
pephoneume/nois) trepome/nou tou= kakou=~. Evidently a mimic version
of ~eis kephalê\n soi/~. Something similar is intended when the
murderer sucks the blood of the murdered man three times and spits
it out again three times. Ap. Rh. describes such a scene (iv, 477
f.); and something similar occurred in Aesch. (_fr._ 354; _EM._
refers to this in immediate connexion with ~maschalismo/s~). Here
too the object is the ~ka/tharsis~ of the murderer, the expiation of
the impious deed. (~hê\ the/mis authe/ntê|si doloktasi/as
_hile/asthai_~, A.R.; ~apoptu/sai dei= kai\ _kathê/rasthai_ sto/ma~,
A.) Spitting three times is a regular feature in magic charms and
counter-charms: in this case the blood of the murdered man and with
it the power of vengeance that rises up out of the blood, is
averted, (despuimus comitiales morbos, hoc est, contagia regerimus,
Plin., _NH._ 28, 35.)--What "savage" tribe ever had more primitive
ideas or a more realistic symbolism than the Greek populace--and
perhaps not populace only--of classical times in the sinister
backwaters of their life into which we have here for a moment
descended?
APPENDIX III
~_amu/êtoi, a/gamoi_~ AND DANAÏDES IN THE UNDERWORLD
In Polygnotos' picture of the underworld were to be seen the figures
~tô=n ou memuême/ôn, tô=n ta\ drô/mena Eleusi=ni en oudeno\s
theme/nôn lo/gô|~--an old man, a ~pai=s~, a young and an old woman,
who bear water to a ~pi/thos~ in broken pitchers: Paus. 10, 31,
9-11. The myth is evidently founded upon an etymological play on
words--those who have neglected the "completion" of the holy ~te/lê~
and are ~atelei=s hierô=n~ (_h. Cer._ 482) must perform the vain
labour in the realm of Persephone of carrying water in broken
vessels: the ~Danaï/dôn hudrei/as _atelei=s_~ (_Axioch._ 371 E). It
can only have been an oversight that made Pausanias forget to say
that the ~pi/thos~ is ~_tetrême/nos_~, for this is essential to the
story (see Pl., _Gor._ 493 BC; Philetair. ap. Ath. 633 F, 18 [2, p.
235 K.]; Zenob., _Prov._ ii, 6, etc.), and certainly cannot, as
Dieterich, _Nekyia_, 70, imagined, be replaced by the ~kateago/ta
o/straka~. That the ~ou memuême/noi~, the ~amu/êtoi~, as the
inscription on the picture called them (Paus. § 9), were in fact
those who had neglected the Eleusinian mysteries is only a
conclusion of Pausanias' (or of his authority), as we see from the
way he speaks in § 11; but it is probably the right conclusion. The
Orphics took over the Eleusinian fable, but exaggerated it to the
point of absurdity: they ~tou\s anosi/ous kai\ adi/kous koski/nô|
hu/dôr anagka/zousi phe/rein~ in Hades (Pl., _Rp._ 363 D; _Gor._ 493
BC). In this they followed a hint given by a popular
proverb--representing one of the ~adu/nata--koski/nô| hu/dôr
phe/rein~ (which is also Roman: cf. Plaut., {587} _Pseud._ 102; as
an "ordeal": Plin., _NH._ 28, 12). It is not until later (nor in
surviving literature before the _Axiochus_, 371 E: though perhaps a
little earlier on vase paintings from South Italy) that the story
occurs in which it is the _daughters of Danaos_ who are punished in
Hades by having to fill the leaking vessel. The reason given for
this punishment is their murder of the sons of Aigyptos in the
marriage bed: but why did the punishment take this particular form?
Clearly in the case of the Danaides their non-fulfilment of an
important ~te/los~ is requited in the ever ~atelei=s hudrei=ai~.
Their marriage union was uncompleted through their own choice (thus
marriage itself was often called a ~te/los~ and the wedding was
preceded by ~prote/leia~ and compared with the ~te/lê~ of the
mysteries). In this it is certainly implied that their deed had not
been expiated, and they themselves had not found other husbands, but
had as it were immediately after their impious deed been sent down
to Hades (cf. Sch. Eur., _Hec._ 886, p. 436, 14 Dind.). The
daughters of Danaos came to the underworld as ~a/gamoi~. To die
before marriage was regarded as the height of ill-luck by the common
people (cf. Welcker, _Syll. ep._, p. 49): the essential reason being
that those who die thus leave behind them nobody who is called upon
to keep up the cult of their souls (E. _Tro._ 380). Other ideas may
have been vaguely combined with this. Thus, on the graves of
~a/gamoi~ a ~loutropho/ros~ was set up--a figure of a ~pai=s~ or a
~ko/rê loutropho/ros~, or a vessel called the ~loutropho/ros~ which
has been identified with certain _bottomless_ vases (see
Furtwängler, _Samml. Sabouroff_, on Pl. lviii-lix; cf. Wolters,
_Ath. Mitth._ xvi, 378 ff.). Can this have referred to a similar
fate awaiting the ~a/gamoi~ after their death, a fate such as was
imputed to the Danaides in particular as mythical types of those who
are ~a/gamoi~ by their own fault?--an ever unsuccessful carrying of
water for the ~loutro/n~ of the bridal bath. (Dieterich, _Nekyia_,
76, with some probability takes this as the reason for the
water-carrying.)
Of these two myths, was the one which appears later in order of
time--the story of the Danaids--merely a subsequent development out
of the earlier one (even said to occur on a black-figured vase),
which told of the vain water-carrying of the _~amu/êtoi~_? I cannot
be so sure of this as I once was. I cannot indeed admit (with
Dümmler, _Delphica_, 18 ff., who, however, fails to prove an
earlier date for the story of the Danaids' jar) that it would be
difficult to imagine how a special class of human beings came to be
replaced later on by certain mythical representatives such as the
Danaids were. But it is a very suspicious fact that the Danaids do
_not_ as a matter of fact represent the particular class of
mankind--the ~amu/êtoi~--whose place they are supposed to have taken
as their mythological representatives. They are not ~amu/êtoi~ at
all, but _~a/gamoi~_. The ~a/gamoi~ and their ~atelei=s hudrei=ai~
in Hades must have been familiar in popular belief: in addition to
this the mystical fable of the similar behaviour of those who had
neglected the ~te/los~ of initiation may have sprung up, but
certainly not as the model of the ~a/gamoi~ story, more probably as
a subsequent {588} rehandling of it for the purposes of mystical
edification. (The story of the ~a/gamoi~ has a much more primitive
and popular flavour; and it alone gives a definite relation between
the special labour of water-carrying in Hades and the nature of
their default on earth.) The mythical fate of the ~a/gamoi~ was then
forgotten owing to the competing interest of the story of the
**~amu/êtoi~, which, in fact, absorbed it, when a poet--for a poet
it must have been--took up what still-surviving custom and its
accompanying legend applied to the ~a/g.~ in general and transferred
it to the _Danaides_. This version of the myth was then victorious
in the general consciousness both over the popular tradition about
the ~a/gamoi~ and the mystery-fable of the **~amu/êtoi~.--It remains
to be said that the Danaids (and the **~amu/êtoi~ too in a lesser
degree) were supposed to be _punished_ by their ~atelei=s hudrei=ai~,
This, so long as it was a matter of the ~a/gamoi~ simply, cannot
have been the meaning of that fate of purposeless toil in their case
any more than it was in the case of Oknos. Even Xenophon, _Oec._
vii, 40, lets us see that the vain toilers are not as a matter of
fact intended to inspire horror, as sinners, but rather pity. His
words are: ~ouch hora=|s, hoi eis to\n tetrême/non pi/thon antlei=n
lego/menoi hôs _oikti/rontai_, ho/ti ma/tên ponei=n dokou=si? nê\
Di/', e/phê hê gunê/, kai\ ga\r tlê/mone/s eisin, ei tou=to/ ge
poiou=sin~. This gives us the attitude of mind from which the whole
story originally grew up.
APPENDIX IV
THE TETRALOGIES OF ANTIPHON
I ought not to have admitted the doubt suggested in chap. v, n. 176,
as to the genuineness of the Tetralogies traditionally ascribed to
Antiphon. I have examined more carefully the well-known linguistic
variations between the Tetralogies and speeches i, v, and vi of
Antiphon, and also the recently noticed divergences (see
Dittenberger, _Hermes_, 31; 32) of the Tetralogies from Athenian law
(for which the author, like the declamation-writers of later times,
substitutes occasionally a "_ius scholasticum_"--a purely fanciful
creation but one more suited to pleading _in utramque partem_). All
these objections seem to me, on maturer consideration, insufficient
to make us reject the identity--otherwise so well established--of
the author of the Tetralogies with the author of the Speeches.
APPENDIX V
RITUAL PURIFICATION EFFECTED BY RUNNING WATER, RUBBING WITH ANIMAL
OR VEGETABLE SUBSTANCES (~ski/lla~, FIGS), ABSORPTION OF THE
_materia peccans_ INTO EGGS.
For the purpose of ritual purification it is necessary to have water
drawn from running springs or streams, or from the sea: ~tha/lassa
klu/xei pa/nta tanthrô/pôn kaka/~, Eur., _IT._ 1193. (Hence in the
exalted {589} semi-oracular language of bardic poetry ~hê ami/antos
= tha/lassa~, Aesch., _P._ 578. At a sacrifice ~ho hiareu\s
aporrai/netai thala/ssa|~, sacrificial calendar from Kos: _Inscr.
Cos_, 38, 23.) Various details on this point in Lomeier, _De
lustrat._ c. 17. In the water thus drawn from running sources the
power of washing off and carrying away the evil still seemed to be
inherent. When the pollution is unusually severe it has to be purged
by the water from several running springs: ~krêna/ôn apo\ pe/nte~,
Emped. 452 M. = 143 D.; ~apo\ krênô=n triô=n~, Menand., ~Deis.~ 530,
22 K.; Orestes se apud tria flumina circum Hebrum ex response
purificavit (from the stain of matricide), Lamprid., _Heliog._ vii,
7--or else at Rhegion in the seven streams which combine to form one
river: Varro ap. Prob., _ad Verg._, p. 3, 4 Keil; Sch. Theoc.,
prol., p. 1, 3 ff. Düb. (and cf. Hermann, _Opusc._ ii, 71 ff.). Even
water from fourteen different springs might be used at a
purification of murder: Suid. 476 BC Gaisf. (~apo\ di\s hepta
kuma/tôn~, conclusion of an iambic or trochaic line). In all this the
remarkable persistence of Greek ritual performances is shown once
more. Even in a late period the same kathartic rules prevail. An
order of the Klarian oracle of about the third century A.D. (ap.
Buresch, _Klaros_, p. 9) commands those who seek its aid ~apo\
Naïa/dôn hepta mateu/ein katharo\n po/ton entu/nesthai, ho/n
theiô=sai pro/sothen~ (taken from _Il._ ~Ps~ 533, but understood in
a temporal sense) ~echrê=n kai\ epessume/nôs aphu/sasthai rhê=nai/ te
do/mous ktl.~ And in a magical papyrus (about fourth century), ap.
Parthey, _Abh. Berl. Ak._ 1865, p. 126, l. 234-5, instructions are
given to collect ~hu/dôr pêgai=on apo\ z' pêgô=n~ for magic
purposes. (Then again in mediæval superstition: for the purposes of
_hydromantia_ "water must be taken from three running streams, a
little from each", etc.--Hartlieb ap. Grimm, p. 1770--probably a
survival from classical antiquity: cf. Plin., _NH._ 28, 46, _e
tribus puteis_, etc.) Cf. also and in general the completely
analogous use of water in old Indian ceremonies of purification:
Oldenberg, _Rel. Veda_, 423 ff.; 489.--~_perima/ttein,
apoma/ttein_~: wiping-off of the uncleanness: see Wyttenb. ad Plu.,
_Mor._ vi, pp. 1006-7. In this use _~peripsê=n~_ also occurs: in a
transferred sense a ~pharmako/s~ is called a ~peri/psêma =
perika/tharma~, _Ep. ad Cor._ 1, 4, 13. Washing-off with bran,
earth, etc., is often mentioned. Otherwise the _~ski/lla~_ is used
or the bodies of sacrificed dogs: ~eka/thêre/ te/ me kai\ _ape/maxe_
kai\ periê/gnise da|di/ois~ (with ~periê/gn.~) ~kai\ _ski/llê|_~,
Luc., _Necyom._ 7. The Superstitious Man is accustomed ~hierei/as
kale/sas ski/llê| ê\ _sku/laki_ keleu=sai hauto\n perikatha=rai~,
Thphr., _Ch._ 28 (16) fin. All sorts of medicinal properties were
attributed to the ~ski/lla~. (The idea is elaborated farcically in
the pamphlet of "Pythagoras" ~peri\ ski/llês~ [D.L. viii, 47?
~kê/lês~ Cobet], an extract of which is given by Galen ~p.
eupori/st.~ 3, vol. xiv, **576-9 K.) But above all it is regarded as
~katha/rsios~: Artem. iii, 50; ~kathartikê\ pa/sês kaki/as~, Sch.
Theoc. v, 121, and cf. Cratin., ~Chei/r.~ 232 K. Hence it is also
~alexipha/rmakon, ho/lê pro\ tô=n thurô=n kremame/nê~, Diosc. ii,
202 fin. (see _Hermes_, 51, 628); such also was the teaching of
"Pythagoras": Plin., _NH._ 20, 101; **or it may be buried at the
threshold: Ar. ~Danaï/d.~ _fr._ 8 [255 H.-G.]. {590} It is also
~lu/kôn phthartikê/~: Artem. iii, 50 (cf. _Gp._ 15, 1, 6, with notes
of Niclas). As being able to keep off daimones (in wolf-form) it was
then used in religious "purification".--Figs are also used for the
purpose of religious cleansing and scouring (_black_ figs
particularly inferum deorum et avertentium in tutela sunt, Macr. 3,
20, 2-3). Figs used ~en katharmoi=s~: Eustath., _Od._, p. 1572, 57
(? is this the meaning of the ~perima/ttein~ of the eyes with figs
in Pherecr. ap. Ath. 3, 78 D [132 K.]). Hence ~Zeu\s suka/sios =
katha/rsios~ (Eustath.). Figs the best ~alexipha/rmakon~: Arist. ap.
Jul., _Ep._ 24, p. 505, 7 ff. From the specially magic properties of
the fig comes the idea that fig-trees are never struck by lightning:
Plu., _Smp._ 5, 9, p. 684 C; _Gp._ 11, 2, 7; Theoph. Nonn. 260, 288
(and cf. _Rh. Mus._ 50, 584); Lyd., _Mens. fr. fals._ 1, p. 181 W.;
4, 4, p. 69 W. The ~pharmakoi/~ at the Thargelia (above, chap. ix,
n. 26) wear strings of figs round their necks (Hellad. ap. Phot.,
_Bibl._, p. 534a, 5 ff.), and are beaten with branches of the
fig-tree (~kra/dai~) and with ~ski/llai~ (Hippon. _frr._ 4, 5, 8;
Hsch. ~kradi/ês no/mos~): here again the figs have a kathartic
purpose (Müller mistakes this, _Dorians_, i, 346), as is shown also
by the presence of ~ski/llai~ as well (cf. in general Theoc. vii,
107; v, 121). Before the ~pharmakoi/~ were driven out of the city as
scapegoats they were thus "purified" with the above-mentioned
~kra/dai~ and ~ski/llai~. The same thing is said in the story of the
ravens which parodies this expiatory rite. The ravens are offered up
to ~Loimo/s~ as a sort of ~pharmakoi/--_perikathai/rontas_ epô|dai=s
aphie/nai zô=ntas, kai\ epile/gein tô=| Loimô|; pheu=g' es ko/rakas~
(Arist. _fr._ 454 [496 Tbn.]; for a similar ~apotropiasmo/s (eis
ai=gas agri/as)~ see the commentators on Macar. iii, 59, Diogen. v,
49; cf. ~tê\n _no/son_~ (regarded as a daimon), ~phasi/n, es ai=gas
tre/psai~, Philostr., _Her._ 179, 8 Kays.).--Rubbing-off of the
"impurity" was effected also with the dead bodies of puppies
(~ski/llê ê\ sku/laki~, Thphr., _Ch._ 28 [16]). Those ~hagnismou=
deo/menoi~ were rubbed down with the bodies of puppies (which had
been sacrificed to Hekate): ~perima/ttontai~, and this is
~periskulakismo/s~, Plu., _Q. Rom._ 68, p. 280 C.
It was believed that these materials (wool and the skins of animals
were also employed) received into themselves the harmful and
polluting substance. This is why _eggs_ are also used as
~katha/rsia~: e.g. in _P. Mag. Lond._, n. 121, l. 522 ap. Kenyon,
_Greek papyri in BM._ i, p. 101 (1893): ~gra/phe to\ o/noma eis ô|a\
du/o arrenika\ kai\ tô=| heni\ _perikathai/reis_~ (sic) ~seauto\n
ktl.~ More in Lomeier, _Lustr._ (ed. 2 Zutph. 1700), p. 258 f. They
were meant to absorb the impurity. ~anela/mbanon ta\ tou=
perikatharthe/ntos kaka/~, Auct. ~p. deisid.~ ap. Clem., _Str._ vii,
p. 844 P.
APPENDIX VI
HEKATE AND THE ~Hekatika\ pha/smata~, GORGYRA, GORGO, MORMOLYKE,
MORMO, BAUBO, GELLO, EMPOUSA, ETC.
Hekate herself is addressed as ~Gorgô\ kai\ Mormô\ kai\ Mê/nê kai\
polu/morphe~: _Hymn._ ap. Hipp., _RH._ iv, 35, p. 102, 67 D.-S. Sch.
A.R. {591} iii, 861, says of Hek. ~le/getai kai\ _pha/smata_
epipe/mpein~ (cf. Eur., _Hel._ 569; D. Chr. iv, p. 73 M. [i, p. 70
Arn.]; Hsch. ~antai/a), ta\ kalou/mena _Heka/taia_ (pha/smata
Hekatika/~, Marin., _V. Procl_. 28) ~kai\ polla/kis _autê\
metaba/llein to\ ei=dos_ dio\ kai\ _E/mpousan_ kalei=sthai~.
Hekate-Empousa also in Ar. _Tagen. fr._ 500-1: Sch. Ar., _Ran_, 293;
Hesych. ~E/mpousa~. Thus Hekate is the same as Gorgo, Mormo, and
Empousa. Baubo also is one of her names: _H. Mag._, p. 289 Abel.
(Baubo probably identical with the _~Babô/~_ mentioned among other
~chtho/nioi~ in an inscr. from Paros: ~Athê/naion~, v, 15; cf. the
male personal names ~Babô/, Babei/s~. ~Baubô/~ can hardly be
etymologically connected with ~baubô/n~ unpleasantly familiar in
Herond. (though the mistake has been repeated in Roscher, _Myth.
Lex._ ii, 3025); one does not see how a female daimon could be named
after a male _~o/lisbos~_. The nature of Hekate makes its more
probable that she got her name from _~bau/~_ the noise of the baying
hound: cf. ~bauku/ôn~, _P. Mag. Par._ 1911.) Baubo, too, is
elsewhere the name of a gigantic nocturnal spectre: Orph. _fr._ 216
Ab.; Lob., _Agl._ 823.--Elsewhere these ~epiklê/seis~, or forms in
which Hekate, Gorgo, Mormo, etc., appear, are found as the names of
separate infernal spirits. ~_Gorgu/ra_; Ache/rontos gunê/~ Apollod.
~p. theô=n~ ap. Stob., _Ecl._ i, 49, p. 419, 15 W.; cf. [Apollod.]
1, 5, 3. ~Gorgô/~ is probably only the shortened form of this daimon
(she is alluded to as an inhabitant of Hades as early as _Od._ ~l~
634; in the ~kata/basis~ of Herakles [Apollod.] 2, 5, 12; ~chthoni/a
Gorgô/~, Eur., _Ion_, 1053). Acheron, whose consort she is, must
have been regarded as the lord of the underworld. We also hear of a
mother of the underworld god: in Aesch., _Ag._ 1235, Kassandra calls
Klytaimnestra _~thu/ousan Ha/idou mête/ra~_. In this very striking
phrase it is impossible to take ~ha/|dou~ in its generalized sense
(as Lob. does: _Aj._^3, p. 292), and the whole phrase as merely
metaphorical = ~ainomê/tora~. Why ~mête/ra~ in particular? And,
above all, what would be the point of ~thu/ousan~? Klytaimnestra, of
course, it goes without saying, is only metaphorically called the
"raging mother of Hades", i.e. a true she-devil; but the thing with
which she is compared, from which the metaphor is taken, must have
been a real figure of legend. In exactly the same way, in Byz.
Greek, _~tô=n daimo/nôn mê/têr~_ is a figurative expression for a
wicked woman: see ~Kalli/m. kai\ Chrusorro/ê~ 2579 ed. Lambros; cf.
ib., 1306, ~tô=n Nêrêi/dôn ma/mmê~. In German too "the **devil's
mother", or grandmother, or the devil's wife or bride, are of
frequent occurrence in a metaphorical sense: Grimm, p. 1007; 1607.
But in all these cases the comparison invariably implies the
existence of real legendary figures to which the comparison refers:
and often enough in mediæval and modern Greek folk-lore these
creatures actually occur. We may therefore conclude that the
~thu/ousa Ha/idou mê/têr~ was a real figure of Greek legend. "Hades"
in this connexion cannot be the god of the underworld, common in
Homer and a regular poetic character elsewhere, the brother of Zeus
and Poseidon. In that case his mother would be Rhea who certainly
cannot be identified with the ~thu/ousa Ha/idou mê/têr~. In local
mythology there were numerous other underworld {592} gods any of
whom might be loosely called ~Ha/idês~, the word being used as a
general name for such deities. But the "raging" mother of the
underworld god has the most unmistakable resemblance to Hekate who
flies about by night on the wind (see above, chap. ix, p. 297 f.;
below, App. vii) ~psuchai=s neku/ôn me/ta bakcheu/ousa~ (Reiss, _Rh.
Mus._ 49, 181 n., compares her less well with the "huntsman of
Hades"). It seems almost as if the two were identical: local legend
could quite well have made Hekate the mother of the underworld god
(just as she was the daughter of Admetos, or of Eubouleus, i.e. of
Hades). If she is the same as ~Mormô/~ (cf. the _Hymn._ ap. Hipp.,
_RH._ iv, 35) then she was also known to folk-lore as the
foster-mother of Acheron. This title is applied to ~_Mormolu/ka_;
tithê/nê~ of Acheron in Sophron _fr._ 9 Kaibel. But _~Mormô/~_ is
simply the abbreviated form of ~Mormolu/kê~ as ~Gorgô/~ is of
~Gorgu/ra~, and cf. also ~Mommô/~ Hsch., and with metathesis of ~r~,
~Mombrô/~ id. (~Mormol.~ is mentioned together with ~Lamia/, Gorgô/,
Ephia/ltês~ as a legendary creature in Str., p. 19, and see Ruhnken,
_Tim. Lex._, p. 179 ff., ~Mormolu/keion~.) ~Mormô/~ also in plural:
~hô/sper mormo/nas paida/ria (phobou=ntai)~, Xen., _HG._ 4, 4, 17;
Hsch. ~mormo/nas; pla/nêtas dai/monas~ (i.e. "wandering", as in
Hesiod, and like the Erinyes in the Pythagorean ~su/mbolon~, and the
~ala/stôr~, the unquiet and wandering soul whose name is derived
from ~ala=sthai~--so Lob., _Paralip._ 450). Besides this we have
~Heka/tas~ too in the plural: Luc., _Philops._ 39 fin. (perhaps only
generalizing); ~trissô=n Hekatô=n~, _P. Mag. Par._ 2825 f.;
~E/mpousai~ (with ~a/lla ei/dôla~), D.P. 725, etc., to say nothing
of ~Gorgo/nes~. ~Mormô/~ as a bogey to frighten children: ~Mormô\
da/knei~, Theoc. xv, 40 (cf. ~[ana/]klêsis Mormo[u=s]~, a theatrical
piece, probably a farce: _IGM. Aeg._ i, 125g). So too is the monster
~_La/mia_~ that kidnaps children: Duris, _fr._ 35 (2 _FHG_); D.S.
20, 41; Heraclit., _Incred._ 34, etc. Some details in Friedländer,
_Darstell. a. d. Sitteng._^4, i, 511 f. (as a nickname ~Lamô/~: Sch.
Ar., _Eq._ 62). Mormo herself is called Lamia, ~Mormou=s tê=s kai\
Lami/as~, Sch. Greg. Nz. ap. Ruhnken, _Tim. Lex._, p. 182a. With
Mormo and Lamia ~_Gellô/_~ is also identified (Sch. Theoc. xv, 40),
a ghost that kidnaps children mentioned already by Sappho, _fr._ 44;
Zenob. iii, 3, etc. _~Karkô/~_, too, is the same as ~La/mia~
(Hesych.). Lamia is evidently the general name (see above, chap. iv,
n. 115), while Mormo, Gello, Karko, and even Empousa, are particular
Lamiai, who also merge into one another. Just as Mormo and Gello
coincide, so also do Gello and Empousa: ~_Gellô\_ ei/dôlon
Empou/sês~, Hsch. (Empousai, Lamiai, and Mormolykai the same:
Philostr., _V. Ap._ 4, 25, p. 145, 16 K.). Empousa, who appears in
continually changing shapes (Ar., _Ran._ 289 ff.), is seen by human
beings at night (~nukterino\n pha/sma hê E/mpousa~, _V. Aeschin._
init.; Philostr. _V. Ap._ 2, 4), but even more commonly at midday
(like the Hekate of Lucian): ~mesêmbri/as ho/tan toi=s
katoichome/nois enagi/zôsin~, Sch. Ar., _Ran._ 293. She is, in fact,
the _daemonium meridianum_ known to Christian writers as Diana
(Lob., _Agl._ 1092; Grimm, 1162). For devils appearing at midday see
Rochholz, _Glaube u. Br._, i, 67 ff.; Mannhardt, _Ant._ {593} _Wald
u. Feldc._ ii, 135 f.; Haberland, _Ztschr. Völkerpsych._ xiii, 310
ff.; Drexler in _Myth. Lex._ ii, 2832 ff; Grimm, 1661. Hekate, in so
far as she appears as an ~ei/dôlon~ in the upper world is identical
with Emp. and with Borbo, Gorgo, Mormo, as well as Gello, Karko,
Lamia. (Acc. to Sch. A.R. iv, 828 Stesichoros, ~en tê=| Sku/llê|
_ei/dous_ [Eidou=s~ Bergk on Stes. _fr._ 13 quite unconvincingly]
~_tino\s Lami/as_ tê\n Sku/llan phêsi\ thugate/ra ei=nai~. Here Hek.
herself seems to be described as "a kind of Lamia", for she was
generally regarded as the mother of Skylla, e.g. by Akousilaos [73
B, 27 _Vors._], in the Hesiodic _Eoiai_, 172 Rz. [Sch. A.R.], and
even in A.R. himself who in iv, 829, explains the Homeric Krataiis
[~m~ 124] as merely a name of Hekate.)--The vagueness of feature and
confusion of personality is characteristic of these ghostly and
delusive apparitions. In reality the individual names (in some cases
onomatopoeic formations to suggest terror) were originally the
titles of local ghosts. In the long run they all come to suggest the
same general idea and are therefore confused with each other and are
identified with the best known of them, Hekate. The underworld and
the realm of ghosts is the proper home of these feminine daimones as
a whole and of Hekate too; most of them, with the possible exception
of Empousa, give way entirely to Hekate in importance and are
relegated to children's fairy-tales. In the case of Gorgyra (Gorgo)
and Mormolyke (Mormo) this fact is clearly attested. Lamia and Gello
carry off children and also ~aô/rous~ from this life, like other
daimones of the underworld, Keres, Harpies, Erinyes, and Thanatos
himself. The Lamiai rise to the light from their underground
lairs--~_lami/as_ tina\s historou=ntes~ (the oldest writers of
histories) ~en hu/lais kai\ na/pais _ek gê=s anieme/nas_~, D.H.,
_Thuc._ 6. Empousa appears on earth at midday because that was the
time when sacrifice was offered to the dead (Sch. Ar., _Ran._ 293;
sacrifice to Heroes at midday: above, chap. iv, n. 9). She
approaches the offerings to the creatures of the lower world because
she herself is one of their number. (In the same way the chthonic
character of the _Seirenes_--they are closely related to the
Harpies--is shown by the fact that they too appear like Empousa at
midday and oppress sleepers, etc., according to the popular
demonology. See Crusius, _Philol._ 50, 97 ff.)
APPENDIX VII
The _Hosts of Hekate_ cause fear and sickness at night: ~ei/t'
e/nupnon pha/ntasma phobê=| chthoni/as th' _Heka/tês kô=mon_
ede/xô~, Trag. Incert. _fr._ 375 (Porson suggested Aesch.). They
form the ~nukti/phantoi _pro/poloi_ Enodi/as~, Eur., _Hel._ 570.
(These ~pro/poloi ta=s theou=~ are probably also referred to in the
_defixio_ _CIG._ 5773; Wünsch, _Tab. Defix._, p. ixb.) They are
nothing else than the restless souls of the dead wandering in the
train of Hekate. Nocturnal terrors are produced by ~Heka/tês
epibolai\ kai\ hêrô/ôn e/phodoi~, Hp., _Morb. Sacr._ (vi, 362 L.).
Hence Orph., _H._ i, 1, calls Hekate ~psuchai=s neku/ôn me/ta
bakcheu/ousan~. The souls which thus wander about with Hekate are
{594} in part those of the _~a/ôroi~_, i.e. of those who have died
before the completion of their "destined" period of life, ~pri\n
moi=ran exê/kein bi/ou~, Soph., _Ant._ 896; cf. Phrynich. in _AB._
24, 22, and ~pro/moiros harpagê/~, _Inscr. Cos_, 322. Thanatos has
acted unjustly towards them ~en tachutê=ti bi/ou pau/ôn neoê/likas
akma/s~, Orph., _H._ 87, 5-6. The period of conscious existence on
earth which they had left incomplete they must now fulfil as
disembodied "souls": aiunt immatura morte praeventas (animas) eo
usque vagari istic, donec reliquatio compleatur aetatum quas tum
pervixissent si non intempestive obiissent, Tert., _An._ 56. (They
haunt the place of their burial: ~hê/rôes atuchei=s, hoi\ en tô=|
dei=ni to/pô| sune/chesthe~, _P. Mag. Par._ 1408; cf. _CIG._ 5858b.)
For this reason it is often mentioned on gravestones (and elsewhere:
Eur., _Alc._ 168 f.) as something specially to be lamented that the
person there buried had died ~a/ôros~--see _Epigr. Gr._ 12; 16; 193;
220, 1; 221, 2; 313, 2-3: ~a/teknos a/ôros~, **236, 2; and cf. 372,
32; 184, 3; _CIG._ 5574 (see also App. iii and chap. xiv, pt. ii, n.
155, ~a/gamoi~). Gello who herself ~parthe/nos aô/rôs eteleu/têse~
then becomes a ~pha/ntasma~, slays children and causes ~tou\s tô=n
aô/rôn thana/tous~, Zenob. iii, 3; Hsch. ~Gellô/~. The souls of the
~a/ôroi~ cannot rest but must continually wander: see Plaut.,
_Most._ 499. They (~ane/môn ei/dôlon e/chontes~, _H. Hec._, l. 15:
Orph., p. 290 Ab.) are the creatures which accompany Hekate in her
nocturnal wanderings. The _Hymn._ to Hekate, p. 289 Ab. (cf. _P.
Mag. Par._ 2727 ff.) addresses Hek. thus (10 ff.): ~deu=r' Heka/tê
triodi=ti, puri/pnoe, pha/smat' e/chousa (a/gousa~ Mein.)~, hê/ t'
e/laches deina\s me\n hodou\s (deina/s t' epho/dous~?) ~chalepa/s
t' epipompa/s, tê\n Heka/tên se kalô= su\n apophthime/noisin aô/rois
kei/ tines hêrô/ôn tha/non agnai=oi/ te (kai\~ Mein., but this
position of ~te/~ is a regular Hellenistic usage; occurs frequently
in _Orac. Sibyll._) ~a/paides ktl.~ Thus the ~a/ôroi~ became the
typical haunting spirits ~kat' exochê/n~. Just as in this _Hymn._
they are summoned (with Hek.) for unholy purposes of magic, so an
~a/ôros~ is sometimes expressly invoked in the _defixiones_ which
were placed in graves (esp. in those of ~a/ôroi~: see the
instructions given in _P. Mag. Par._ 332 ff., 2215, 2220 f.; _P.
Anastasy_, l. 336 ff.; 353): ~le/gô tô=| aô/rô| tô=| k[ata\ tou=ton
to\n to/pon~, etc.]: Roman _defixio_, _I. Sic. et It._ 1047;
~exorki/zô se, neku/daimon a/ôre~, leaden tablet from Carth., _BCH._
1888, p. 299 (_Tab. Defix._, p. xvi); cf. also _P. Mag. Par._ 342 f.;
1390 ff.; ~para/dote~ (the victim) ~aô/rois~, leaden tablet from
Alexandria, _Rh. Mus._ 9, 37, l. 22; a lead tablet from Phrygia
(_BCH._ 1893, p. 251) has: ~gra/phô pa/ntas tou\s emoi\ anti/a
poiou=ntas meta\ tô=n aô/rôn; Epa/gathon Sabi=nan~, etc. In the
curses of _Epigr. Gr._, p. 149, the ~Heka/tês melai/nês dai/mones~
alternate with ~a/ôroi sumphorai/~; see also Sterrett, _Amer. Sch.
Athens_, ii, 168.--Everything that has been said of the ~a/ôroi~
applies also to the _~biaiotha/natoi~_ (or ~bi/aioi~, a term found
in the magical papyri; cf. also ~biotha/naton pneu=ma~, _P. Mag.
Par._ 1950); they are a special kind of ~a/ôroi~: they find no rest,
see above, chap. v, n. 147; Tert., _An._ 56-7; Serv., _A._ iv, 386,
quoting the _physici_; cf. also Heliod., 2, 5, p. 42, 20 ff. Bk. A
~biaiotha/natos~, who has thus been deprived of his life, has to
make special supplication for admission {595} into Hades: _Epigr.
Gr._ 625; cf. Verg., _A._ iv, 696 ff. Such souls become
~_ala/stores_~, wandering spirits: see above, Append. vi, p. 592;
wandering of a ~biaiotha/natos~, Plu., _Cim._ 1.--Finally the souls
of unburied persons who have no share in the cult of the souls or
home in the grave are also condemned to wander (cf. Eur., _Hec._
31-50): see above, chap. v, p. 163. The ~a/taphos~ is detained
~entha/de~: Soph., _Ant._ 1070, and wanders about the earth:
~alai/nei~, Eur., _Tro._ 1083; cf. Tert., _An._ 56. Hence the souls
of these ~a/taphoi~ could be forced to appear and answer the
sorcerer: Heliod., p. 177, 15 ff. Bk.; _rite conditis Manibus_ the
wanderings of the soul cease: Plin., _Ep._ 7, 27, 11; Luc.,
_Philops._ 31 fin.--The art of the ~ma/ntis~ and of the ~kathartê/s~
(and of the ~apoma/ktria grau=s~, Plu., _Superst._ 3, p. 166 A) is
supposed to keep off such nocturnal terrors; it is "purification"
precisely because it drives away such unholy beings. It is also a
kind of ~katha/rsion~ that is employed when ~apomagdali/ai~ (instead
of to the dogs: Ath. 409 D) are thrown out ~en toi=s ampho/dois
ginome/nois nukterinoi=s pho/bois~ (Harmodios of Leprea ap. Ath. 149
C), i.e. to Hekate and her rout which also appears as a pack of
hounds.
APPENDIX VIII
DISINTEGRATION OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND REDUPLICATION OF PERSONALITY
In that period of extreme excitement the Greeks must have had
frequent experience of the abnormal but by no means unusual
psychical state in which a division of consciousness takes place and
becomes apparent. The single personality splits up into two (or more)
distinct centres of consciousness; and these give rise to two
personalities (succeeding each other, or contemporaneous), with a
double will and a double intellect appearing in one man. Even
unprejudiced psychological observers of our own time are unable to
describe such phenomena, which appear (spontaneously or produced
experimentally) in certain neuropathic conditions, except as a
reduplication or multiplication of personality. A second self comes
into being, a second centre of consciousness following or by the
side of the first and normal personality, which is generally unaware
of the existence of its rival. (Probably the most complete and
cautious account of these matters is that given by Pierre Janet in
_L'automatisme psychologique_, Paris, 1889.) When such phenomena
appear in conjunction with marked religious or spiritualistic
tendencies they are naturally explained in accordance with these
intellectual preconceptions. The appearance in a man or woman of an
intelligent will, unguided or unperceived by the normally dominant
personality, is conceived as the entrance of a foreign personality
into the individual; or as the expulsion of the real soul of the
individual by such a demonic or spiritual visitor. Nothing, however,
is commoner, in all ages, than the religious or spiritualist
preconceptions that lead to such an explanation; and so {596} what
the Greeks called ~e/kstasis~ or ~kate/chesthai ek theou=~ has been
a very frequent explanation of such mysterious occurrences from the
earliest times (and in the present day). It has appealed just as
much to the person affected by such "reduplication of personality"
as to those round about him (unless they have been scientifically
educated). The actual experience of such phenomena is generally a
fact; fancy begins only with the explanation offered. For the Greeks
the Pythia was always the best known example of such "possession" of
a human being by a foreign will or spirit which seemed to enter
violently and from outside into the human individual, having little
correspondence (as it usually happened) with the character or the
intellect of the "medium" in his or her normal state of
consciousness. The Sibyls, Bakides, ~Ba/kchoi~, the seers and
priests of purification, Epimenides, Aristeas, and so many others,
were further cases of the ascent of the soul to the divine or the
entrance of a god into the soul. It was inevitable that the idea of
an immediate relation between the soul and the divine, and of the
divine nature of the soul itself, should grow up in connexion with
such cases as these, and seem to be authenticated in them more than
in any other way. Greece is not the only place where this has
happened.
APPENDIX IX
THE GREAT ORPHIC THEOGONY
The information about a coherent Orphic Theogony and Anthropogony
which has come down to us from the statements of Neoplatonic
philosophers and their contemporaries, is derived, as Lobeck very
rightly concluded, from the ~en tai=s _rhapsô|di/ais_ Orphikai=s
theologi/a, hê\n kai\ hoi philo/sophoi diermêneu/ousin~ (Damasc.,
_Princ._, p. 380 K.). This last statement means that they were
explained in lectures given by the heads of the Platonic school
since the time of Syrianos (~Orphikai\ sunousi/ai~ of Syrian.:
Procl., _in Tim._ 96 B; Scholia of Proclus on Orpheus, ~ei kai\ mê\
eis pa/sas ta\s _rhapsô|di/as_~: Marin., _V. Procl._ 27). Written
commentaries were also published, more particularly in order to
prove the ~sumphôni/an Orphe/ôs, Puthago/rou kai\ Pla/tônos~
(Syrianos wrote a book with this title, wrongly ascribed to Proclus
by Suidas: see R. Schöll on Procl. _in Rp._, p. 5. Probably the work
of Syr. ~eis tê\n Orphe/ôs theologi/an~ is the source of Orph.,
_frr._ 123-4, which are traced back in the ~Theosophi/a~, § 50, to
~Suriano\s en toi=s heautou= ponê/masin~. From Syr. also probably
comes the citation from Orpheus ~en tê=| teta/rtê| rhapsô|di/a|~,
ib., § 61). The older Neoplatonists before Syrianos took little
notice of the Orphica. Plotinos gives no quotation at all (though
perhaps an allusion in 4, 3, 12; see Lob., p. 555), Iamblichos
quotes nothing from immediate acquaintance, Porphyrios, who read
everything, gives a little (_frr._ 114; 123 Euseb. from Porph.; 211)
and what he does give certainly comes from the Rhapsodiai. In fact,
{597} the Neoplatonics as a whole when they quote Orpheus from their
own knowledge (and do not, for example, simply write "Orpheus"
instead of "Pythagoras": see above, chap. x, n. 9) use the
Rhapsodiai _only_, as Lobeck rightly maintains, p. 466 (Abel did not
realize this, to the detriment of his collection of the _frr._). The
title of the poem they used can hardly have been ~Theogoni/a~. (This
seems to occur as a title in _fr._ 188 [Clem. Al. from auct. ~p.
klopê=s~]. In _fr._ 108 it is only a description of contents; _fr._
310 is spurious. In Suidas, Gaisford's MSS., we do indeed read of a
~theogoni/a, e/pê "as'"~: but the figure indicating the number of
lines corresponds most suspiciously with that of the previous
~onomastiko/n~, and in any case would be insufficient for the great
length of the ~rhapsô|di/ai~.) It seems extremely probable (as
Lobeck already suspected, p. 716, 726) that the simple description:
an Orphic poem divided into several Rhapsodiai, ~_hieroi\ lo/goi_ en
rhapsô|di/ais kd'~ (Suid.), was the real title of the poem, which
consisted of several ~rhapsô|di/ai~. This ~hiero\s lo/gos~ (the
plural only means that there were several books) is, however a
different one (Lobeck missed this, p. 716) from the ~hiero\s lo/gos~
which Epigenes (ap. Clem. Al., _Str._ i, 21, p. 144 P.) attributed
to the Pythagorean Kerkops. (And again when Suid. attributes the 24
Rhaps. to the Thessalian Theognetos or to Kerkops he also means the
_old_ ~hiero\s lo/gos~ not divided into Rhaps., and confuses this
with the later and much extended ~hiero\s lo/gos~.) The older
~hiero\s lo/gos~ is that alluded to by Cic., _ND._ i, 107, and prob.
also by Plu., _Smp._ 2, 3, 2, p. 636 D (_fr._ 42); the quotation in
_EM._ (_fr._ 44) from the 8th Bk. refers to the later ~hiero\s
lo/gos~. But it is certain that the ~hiero\s lo/gos~ in 24 Bks., the
poem possessed by the Neoplatonists, from which by far the greater
number of our fragments are taken, was not a work of the sixth
century, written for instance (as Lobeck was inclined to think, 683
f.) by Onomakritos. It is even untrue--regrettably enough we might
add--that as the Neoplatonists presumed (and Lobeck believed in
consequence: p. 508, 529 f., 602, 613) Plato knew and made use of
the "Rhapsodies". (This emerges with particular plainness from
Gruppe's study of the question in _Jb. Philol. Supp._ xvii, 689
ff.). And when this is gone no other evidence for the earlier date
of the Orphic Theogony in this form is left. And in the very few
passages in which a real coincidence (and not a doubtfully assumed
one) exists between the Rhapsodies and Pherekydes, Herakleitos,
Parmenides (see Lob., p. 532; Kern, _Theogon._, p. 52; Gruppe, p.
708) or Empedokles, the poet of the Rhapsodies is the borrower not
the creditor. The age in which he lived cannot be precisely
determined; the fact that Neoplatonic writers are the first to quote
him does not settle the question; it is uncertain whether he lived
after (as I think) or before the (otherwise unknown) Hieronymos
whose statement about an Orphic Theogony is quoted by Damasc.,
_Princ._ 381 f. K. In any case Gruppe (p. 742) has correctly
appreciated the character of the bulky poem (equalling or even
surpassing the length of the Iliad), when he says that it consists
in the main of a loosely connected patchwork of older Orphic
tradition. {598} There are many points in which agreement between
the Rhapsodies and older Orphic teaching and poetry is still
demonstrable; lines from older Orphic poems were taken over
unaltered; subjects from older Orphic Theogonies were combined,
sometimes without regard for their divergent character; different
versions of the same motif occur together. Thus we have the
~kata/posis~ (modelled eventually upon Hesiod) twice over: in the
first version Zeus swallows Phanes, in the second the heart of
Zagreus. Both mean the same thing; the devouring of the heart of
Zagreus may perhaps belong to the older Orphic legendary material,
the devouring of Phanes to the later. The personality of ~Pha/nês~,
however, cannot have been unknown even to the older stratum of
Orphic poetry. D.S. 1, 11, 3, quotes a line of "Orpheus", which
certainly was not taken from the Rhaps., in which ~Pha/nês~ is
mentioned (and identified with Dionysos). And in a gold tablet,
folded up with the tablet bearing an inscription of Orphic
character, _I. Sic. et It._ 642, and found in the same grave near
Sybaris, there occurs in addition to other (illegible) matter a list
of divine names which includes that of _~Pha/nês~_ (and also
~Prôto/gonous~ here apparently distinguished from ~Pha/nês~ with
whom this figure of Orphic theology is generally identified): see
Comparetti, _Notizie degli scavi di antichità_, 1879, p. 157; 1880,
p. 156. This establishes the existence of this figure of Orphic
mythology as early as the third cent. B.C. (the prob. date of these
tablets).--We may therefore employ the facts derived from the
Rhapsodies with some confidence for the reconstruction of Orphic
poetry and doctrine at those points at least in which coincidence
with older Orphic teaching and the fantastic creatures of Orphic
theology can still be proved. [I leave these remarks exactly as they
stood in the first edition of this book, for they still fully
correspond to my own opinion. Others in the meanwhile have expressed
divergent views, esp. Gomperz, _Greek Thinkers_, i, p. 539. But that
Gruppe's proof of the fact that Plato did not know the Rhapsodist
Theogony is "wholly unsuccessful", is something which no one has yet
sought to show upon intelligible _grounds_. Until such a disproof is
forthcoming the belief in the early date of the Rhapsodies has no
real ground on which to stand.]
APPENDIX X
PREVIOUS LIVES OF PYTHAGORAS. HIS DESCENT TO HADES
Pythagoras' miraculous power of remembering what had happened long
ago in previous lives seems to be already alluded to in the lines of
Empedokles, 430 ff. M. = _fr._ 129 D. The legend in which it was
related how Pythag. showed that he had once been **Euphorbos the son
of Panthous who had been slain by Menelaos in the Trojan war, must,
at any rate, have been put forward at an early period. The story is
often told or alluded to: D.S. 10, 6, 1-3; Sch. V. {599} on ~R~ 28:
Max. Tyr. 16 (i, 287 f. R.); Porph., _VP._ 26-7; Iambl., _VP._ 63;
Philostr., _V. AP._ 1, 1, 1; 8, 7, 4; _Her._ 17, p. 192, 23 ff. Ks.;
Tatian, _Gr._ 25; Hor., _C._ 1, 28, 10; Ov., _M._ 15, 160 ff.;
Hygin. 112; Lact., _Inst._ 3, 18, 15; cf. also Call., _fr._ 83a
(completely misunderstood by Schneider) who even calls Pythag.
"Euphorbos", as Hor. does and Luc., _DM._ 20, 3. The story is always
told in such a way as to imply that no intermediate **~ensômatô/sis~
of his soul had taken place between Pythag. himself and Euphorbos
(they are definitely excluded in Luc., _Gall._ 17).--Why was
Euphorbos in particular selected? The fact that through his father
Panthous he had a special connexion with Apollo, like Pythagoras (a
true ~psuchê\ Apollôniakê/~: cf. also Luc., _Gall._ 16), can hardly
have been sufficient reason (as Göttling, _Opusc._ 210; Krische,
_Soc. Pythag._ 67 f. suggest).--Euphorbos was taken up and made one
of a whole series of previous incarnations
(Aithalides--Euphorbos--Hermotimos--Pyrrhos the Delian
fisherman--Pythagoras) by Herakleides Pont.: D.L. viii, 4-5 (with
which agree Hippol., _RH._ 1, 2, p. 12, 54 f. D.-S.; Porph., _VP._
45; Tert., _An._ 28, 31; Sch. Soph., _El._ 62). Starting with
Aithalides (to whom Herakleides was perhaps the first to ascribe the
gift of miraculous memory in addition to other miraculous powers)
the power of ~ana/mnêsis~ in life and death was transmitted through
all the links in the chain down to Pythag. himself. (The story of
the shield of Euphorbos was now transferred to Hermotimos for
obvious reasons.) According to D.L. Herakleides ~phêsi\n peri\
hautou= ta/de le/gein (to\n Puthago/ran)~. It is very possible that
the language is here inexact and Herakleides did not (as the words
of D.L. would strictly suggest) appeal to a statement of Pythagoras
(in a book) but represented him as saying all this (in a dialogue).
If this is correct, apart from the incarnation as Euphorbos which he
took over from the tradition, Herakleides invented all the rest,
according to his own fancy. The fable was then taken up with
variations by others: in Sch. A.R. i, 645, two versions derived from
the fiction of Herakl. but diverging in some points are mentioned
(one being supported by ~hoi Puthagorikoi/~, the other by Pythagoras
himself--in a book? ~Puthago/ras phêsi/n~ are the actual words).
What Gellius 4, 11, 14, has to say on the authority of Klearchos and
Dikaiarchos differs (except in the matter of Euphorbos) entirely
from Herakleides (and the names given should not be altered). But it
may, nevertheless, be essentially the same fable over again, this
time in the form of a parody of Herakl. (which is not very likely in
the case of Klearchos but suits Dikaiarch. very well). Encouraged by
these predecessors Lucian in the _Cock_ (19-20) carried still
further the parody of the fabulous tale. The story of Herakleides
seems to be seriously used in the ~graphê/~ in which Pythagoras
~auto/s phêsi di' hepta\ kai\ diêkosi/ôn etô=n ex ai/deô
paragegenê=sthai es anthrô/pous~, D.L. viii, 14. As Diels, _Archiv.
f. Gesch. Philos._ iii, 468 f., shows to be very probable, this was
in the ps.-Pythagorean book written in the Ionic dialect, not before
the third century and divided into three parts, which D.L. quotes
and makes use of (viii, 6; 9; 14; cf. also Sch. Pl., _Rp._ 600 B).
{600} Pyth. here states that he appears on earth from the underworld
"every 207 years", and the calculation may possibly be based on the
series of lives invented by Herakleides and the Chronology of
Apollodoros (in which case it could not be before the last century
B.C.), thus: Pythag. born 572, Pyrrhos 779, Hermotimos 986,
Euphorbos 1193 (in the first year of the ~Trôika/~ acc. to
Eratosthenes and Apollodor.), Aithalides 1490. It must indeed be
admitted that this method of reckoning makes the gross error of
calculating from birth to birth instead of from the death of A to
the birth of B. (Other intervals are given in _Theologum. Arithm._,
p. 40 Ast [216 = 6^3: D.L. viii, 14, should not be altered to suit
this as I once proposed]; Sch. Bern. Lucan, ix, 1, p. 289, 12 Us.
[462, ? an error for 432 = 2 x 216; cf. _Theol. Arith._, p. 40,
30])--The existence of a Pythagorean writing belonging to the period
before Herakleides, in which these previous lives of Pythag. were
mentioned cannot be certainly proved. It might be supposed (as I
once supposed: _Rh. Mus._ 26, 558) that the conjunction of the
legend of Pythagoras' previous lives with the descent of P. to
Hades, which appears in Sch. Soph., _El._ 62, and Tert., _An._ 28,
is ancient and original; in which case the previous lives would have
been described in a Pythagorean ~kata/basis eis ha/|dou~. But the
conjunction is quite arbitrary and is not such as would be likely in
a Pythagorean book on the descent: the descent is, in fact, told as
a parody, the form which had been given to it by Hermippos, and with
the implication that it is untrue. Nor is it very likely that the
previous lives would be described in connexion with a descent to
Hades, considering that Pyth. remembered them while alive on earth
and not in a condition of ecstasy, and did not learn of them in
Hades. It would be more natural that, vice versa, an account of the
previous lives should also include something about ~ta\ en
ha/|dou~--the ~ana/mnêsis~ included that also: cf. D.L. viii, 4 fin.
(see the decisive objections to my previous view raised by G. Ettig,
_Acheruntica_, Leipz. Stud. 13, 289 f.). This applies equally to the
view of Diels[1\A10] (_Archiv_, p. 469) that Herakleides (in his
work ~p. tô=n en ha/|dou~) told of the previous lives of P. in
connexion with the descent of P. to Hades and that Herakl. was the
first to make P. go down to Hades. There is nothing to prove that
Herakl. did this or to make it even probable. Without any {601}
grounds for doing so Diels supposes that what Pythagoras (acc. to
Sch. Ambros. on ~a~ 371) ~"phêsi/n"; e/xô geno/menos tou= sô/matos
akê/koa emme/lous harmoni/as~, was said by Pythag., not in a book
going under his name, but in a dialogue by Herakleides (who is not
even mentioned in that Schol.). There is no reason at all to doubt
that these words (as Lobeck supposed, 944) came from a book ascribed
to Pythagoras himself, in which he described his ekstasis and
ecstatic visions (cf. Sch. Arist. 496b, 1 f., 13 ff. Br.). There is
no further definite evidence for the existence of such a Pythagorean
~Kata/basis eis ha/|dou~ (for the ~graphê/~ of D.L. viii, 21, has
another and better interpretation, as already remarked). But a
fairly early date for the origin of at least a legend about a
descent of P. to Hades (and of quite definite statements about it
with a propagandist aim) is attested by Hieronymos of Rhodos ap.
D.L. viii, 21. (But we should not without more definite reason
ascribe the invention of the fable itself to Hieron., as is done by
Hiller, _Hier. Rh. frag._, p. 25. What reason could Hieron. have had
for inventing anything of the kind?) Further, the lines of the comic
poet Aristophon ap. D.L. viii, 38 [_fr._ 12 K.], already suggest
that such legends were in existence in the third century B.C.
Whether the work on the subject of Pythagoras' descent to Hades
called forth the legend or whether the legend was already current
and called forth the book, must remain undecided. But in any case
the book included no account of the previous lives of Pythagoras:
these (apart from the older legend of P. and Euphorbos) were first
put forward by Herakleides Pont. (but not the Descent of P. to
Hades).
[1\A10: What Diels, _Parmenides_, p. 15 (1897) says in support of
his view might stand if we were willing to ignore the fact that
Pythag., as has already been remarked, remembered his previous lives
while he was still alive, and not in the ecstatic condition--not
~e/xô geno/menos tou= sô/matos~. But this is a fact, so that Diels'
view remains untenable.--I cannot see what there is of a
"rationalist" character (Diels) in the fact that Pyth. saw Hesiod
and Homer in Hades undergoing punishment ~anth' hô=n ei=pon peri\
theô=n~ (D.L. viii, 21). This is, in fact, an anti-rationalist,
priestly invention (and so I see Dieterich also understands it,
_Nekyia_, 130). This fact certainly does not tell against the view
that the Hades poem had its origin in the sixth (or the first half
of the fifth) century B.C.]
APPENDIX XI
INITIATION CONSIDERED AS ADOPTION BY THE GOD
The Mystes whose soul is speaking in the first of the gold tablets
found at Sybaris (Diels, No. 18) says, l. 7-8: ~himertou= d' epe/ban
stephanou= posi\ karpali/moisi, _despoi/nas d' hupo\ ko/lpon e/dun
chthoni/as basilei/as_~. This ~hupo\ ko/lpon e/dun . . .~ can hardly
mean anything else than: I seek (as ~hike/tês~) the protection of
her maternal bosom (or lap). It would certainly be attractive to
take this (with Dieterich, _de hymn. Orph._, p. 38) as referring to
a symbolical act, corresponding to the ceremony in which in Greece
and elsewhere, the adoption of a boy, his reception into a new
~ge/nos~, was symbolically represented. (D.S. 4, 39, 2, in
particular records the process: see Wesseling's learned note there;
cf. also Preller, _Gr. Mythol._^4 i, 702.) But such a _symbolical_
proceeding if it was to bring about the association of the ~mu/stês~
with the goddess must have taken place already in the ~o/rgia~ once
held upon earth--here we are in Hades, and it is to say the least of
it difficult to believe that this ~die/lkesthai tou= ko/lpou~ can
have been supposed to occur in Hades in the neighbourhood of the
goddess herself (a fact which made a merely symbolical act of the
kind supposed quite {602} unnecessary).--Apart from this the views
of Dieterich are quite sound: the ceremony was essentially regarded
as an _adoption_ of the ~mu/stês~ by the goddess or the god, as a
reception of the initiated into the divine ~ge/nos~. The ~dra/kôn~
(who represents the god himself) ~dielko/menos tou= ko/lpou~ in the
Sabazia seems actually to have had this meaning. Further the
~mu/stês~ is sometimes called _renatus_, or _in aeternum renatus_
(Apul., _M._ xi, 21; _CIL._ vi, 510; 736); the day of his initiation
is his _natalis sacer_ (Apul., _M._ xi, 24, where _natalem sacrum_
should be read): in these circumstances we may venture to recall
that the above-mentioned solemn rites of adoption also represented a
_new birth_ of the ~theto\s huio/s~ from the womb of his new mother
(see D.S. l.c. Hence Hera is called the _~deute/ra tekou=sa~_ of
Herakles whom she adopted: Lycophr. 39; and hence also the adopted
is called _~deutero/potmos~_, i.e. reborn: Hsch. s.v. ad fin.) This
conception also provides the simplest explanation of the fact that
the ~_muô=n_~, who has received the ~ne/os mu/stês~ into the divine
~ge/nos~ to which he himself already belongs, can be called the
_pater_ or _parens_ of the ~mu/stês~ (Apul., _M._ xi, 25; Tert.,
_Apol._ 8; _ad Nat._ i, 7)--he effects the entrance of the new
member into his own family. (In Greek the name for such a mystic
"father" seems to have been ~patromu/stês~, _CIG._ 3173,
3195.)--This conception of a _new birth_ by initiation reminds us of
the Christian idea of _rebirth_ by baptism (which in its turn is
developed from older Jewish ideas: see Anrich, _Ant.
Mysterienwesen_, p. 111, n.). It is nevertheless one which the
Greeks themselves had at an early date. The ~mu/stai~ of the
Eleusinia seem to have been not far from regarding initiation as an
adoption into the divine ~ge/nos~.
In the ps.-Platonic _Axiochus_, p. 371 D, we read in the description
of the ~chô=ros eusebô=n: entau=tha toi=s memuême/nois esti/ tis
proedri/a kai\ ta\s hosi/ous hagistei/as kakei=se suntelou=si; pô=s
ou=n ou soi\ prô/tô| me/testi tê=s timê=s, _o/nti gennê/tê|_ tô=n
theô=n? kai\ tou\s peri\ Hêrakle/a te~ (perhaps ~de/~ would be
better) ~kai\ Dio/nuson katio/ntas eis Ha/idou pro/teron lo/gos
entha/de~ (i.e. at Athens) ~_muêthê=nai_ kai\ to\ tha/rsos tê=s
ekei=se porei/as para\ tê=s Eleusini/as enau/sasthai~.--Here
Axiochos (for it is to him that Sokrates is speaking) is plainly
described as ~gennê/tês tô=n theô=n~ simply and solely because he
belongs to the ~memuême/noi~. According to Wilamowitz (Gött. Gel.
Anz._, 1896, p. 984) he is called ~gennê/tês tô=n theô=n~ only as a
member of the ~ge/nos~ of the ~Eupatri/dai~ to which he apparently
belonged. But that anyone just on the strength of the by no means
uncommon fact that he belonged to a ~ge/nos~ that happened to trace
its earliest origin from a god (nor is it certain even that the
~Eupatri/dai~ did this)--that anyone on this account should have
dared to call himself a "member of the same family as the gods" is
to say the least of it difficult to parallel. In this case at any
rate nothing of the kind can be meant. From the general principle
that the initiated have a ~proedri/a~ in Hades it is deduced, simply
as conclusion from premiss, with a "surely then"--(~pô=s _ou=n_
ou--~), that Axiochos too may hope to enjoy this same honour
(~_tê=s_ timê=s--~). It is then entirely impossible that, to account
for this hope, a reason {603} should be implied and expressed which,
like the supposed descent of Axiochos from the gods, had nothing to
do with the mysteries and the privileges of the ~mu/stai~. If it was
the (alleged) descent of Axiochos from the gods which secured him
~timê/~ in Hades it would be quite meaningless to accompany the
mention of the ~timê/~ thus secured to Axiochos with an allusion to
the ~timê/~ obtained on quite different grounds by the ~memuême/noi~
(which yet is mysteriously equivalent to that obtained by right of
birth). This allusion, moreover, is put in such a way that it quite
unambiguously includes the special case of Axiochos in the common
denomination of the ~memuême/noi~ of whom he is said to be one. The
fact, indeed, that the privileges of the ~memuême/noi~ is the only
subject alluded to throughout is shown also by the third and last
sentence: the famous cases of the initiation of Herakles and
Dionysos are only mentioned as emphasizing still further the
importance of _~muêthê=nai~_ for those ~eis ha/|dou katio/ntas~.
Here then Axiochos can only be called ~gennê/tês tô=n theô=n~ in so
far as he is ~memuême/nos~. Why, indeed, he ~prô=tos~, before other
~memuême/noi~, should have a claim to the honour of ~proedri/a~ is
something that our text does not say and that can hardly be
extracted from it. It certainly appears that Axiochos has a special
privilege beyond that of other Mystai. Had he reached a specially
high stage of the ~te/lê~ which was not open to everyone and at
which kinship with the gods was first fully assured? Did the family
of the ~Eupatri/dai~ undertake some active part in the ~mu/êsis~
which gave them a closer relation to the gods? In any case his claim
to be regarded as ~gennê/tês tô=n theô=n~ must have depended on his
having been initiated at Eleusis.
Now this kinship with the gods to which he thus attains can only be
made intelligible, if, in accordance with the analogies adduced
above, we regard the ~mu/êsis~ (or perhaps only its highest stages)
as a symbolic adoption by the divinities, suggesting or representing
entrance into the divine ~ge/nos~. No one will maintain that
~gennê/tês tô=n theô=n~ is a "very unnatural phrase" (Wil.) for one
who has been "adopted" by the gods, who will recall the fact that at
Athens the adopted person was inscribed ~eis tou\s _gennê/tas_~ of
the adopter (Is. 7, 13; 15; 17; 43), or, which is precisely the same
thing, ~eis tou\s suggenei=s~ of the adopter (Is. 7, 27; 1).
Thereby he becomes himself ~gennê/tês~ of the members of the
~ge/nos~ into which he thus enters; he is now their ~gennê/tês~, or,
as it is once expressed in an absolutely equivalent phrase, their
~_suggenê\s_ kata\ tê\n poi/êsin~ ([Dem.] 44, 32).
Thus the fully initiated is ~gennê/tês~ of the divine family, ~kata\
tê\n poi/êsin~.
APPENDIX XII
MAGICAL EXORCISMS OF THE DEAD ON LATE _~kata/desmoi, phimôtika/~_,
ETC.
Invocations and conjurings of ~a/ôroi~ and other ~nekudai/mones~ of
an earlier period are mentioned above (p. 594 f.). To a later period
belong {604} the _defixiones_ found at Cyprus (Kurion) and edited in
the _Proc. of the Soc. of Bibl. Archaeology_, p. 174 ff. The
_defixiones_ are there called ~parathê=kai, _phimôtikai\_ tou=
antidi/kou~ (i, 39, and frequently), or ~phimôtika\ katathe/mata~
(iv, 15, etc.). _~phimou=n~_ and _~phimôtiko/n~_ in this rude
Egypto-Syrian Greek are equivalent to the terms, otherwise usual for
such magic charms, _~katadei=n, kata/desmos~_ (see above, chap. ix,
n. 107). See also _P. Mag. Lond._ (Kenyon, _Greek Pap. in BM._, p.
114), l. 967 ff.: in an appeal to a god (~deu=ro/ moi kai\)
_phi/môson_, hupo/taxon, katadou/lôson to\n dei=na tô=| dei=ni
ktl.~--ib., p. 97, l. 396 ff.: ~_phimôtiko\n_ kai\ hupotaktiko\n
gennai=on kai\ ka/tochos; labô\n mo/lubon apo\ psuchropho/rou
sôlê=nos poi/êson la/mnan kai\ epi/graphe chalkô=| graphei/ô|~
(bronze is a magic metal), ~hôs hupokei=tai, kai\ the\s para\
a/ôron~ (see above, p. 594 f.) here follows the rest of the
barbarous text.--On these Cypriote _defixiones_ among the other
invocations regularly appear those addressed to the souls of the
unquiet dead, to the ~dai/mones polua/ndrioi~ (vi, 17. adds
~pepelekisme/noi kai\ es[taurôme/noi~ or ~eskolopisme/noi~? cf.
Luc., _Philops._ 29]) ~kai\ biotha/natoi kai\ a/ôroi kai\ a/poroi
taphê=s (tê=s hiera=s taphê=s~ iv, 18): thus i, 30 f., and
frequently. The ~dai/mones _polua/ndrioi_~ were probably the souls
of executed criminals whose bodies were thrown out into the common
burial grounds--as at Melite in Athens: Plu., _Themist._ 22--the
~polua/ndria~ (cf. Perizon. on Ael., _VH._ 12, 21). ~biotha/natoi
ei/te xe/noi ei/te ento/pioi~ are invoked, iv, 4. Invocation is made
in common to: ~tu/mbe panda/krute kai\ chtho/nioi theoi\ kai\
Heka/tê chthoni/a kai\ Hermê= chtho/nie kai\ Plou/tôn kai\ Erinu/es
hupochtho/nioi kai\ humei=s hoi hô=de katô|kême/noi a/ôroi kai\
anô/numoi~ (see _Rh. Mus._ 50, 20, 3): i, 35, and frequently
repeated with the same formula. What we have here is of frequent
occurrence: a dead person is called upon to carry out a curse. An
early example is _CIG._ 539: ~katadô= autou\s~ (the persons to be
cursed) ~soi/, Onê/sime~ (Attica, fourth century B.C.). The tablet
in Böckh, i, p. 487, admits the reading ~Onê/sime~ as well as
~Onê/simê~. The latter (as a nominative is preferred by Wünsch,
_Tab. Defix._, p. ivb, p. 25 (n. 100), simply in order to expel
every example of the invocation of a dead person to carry out a
curse. But this is only a petitio principii; and if we accepted
~Onêsi/mê~ (as the name of the curser) at least the addition of some
word like ~egô/~ after ~autou\s soi/~ would be necessary--for which
there is no room on the tablet. It will be necessary to retain the
generally accepted vocative ~Onê/sime~ (to which the coming ~pa/ntas
. . . têrei=n~, l. 5-8, is much better suited than to the following
~Hermê=~, l. 8, as in Wünsch's version). There is nothing remarkable
in the invocation here of the individual ~nekudai/môn~ by name (thus
doubling the force of compulsion exerted; cf. Kroll, _Rh. Mus._, 52,
345 f.) to complete and carry out the curse: parallels are given
above, p. 594 ff., and in the above-mentioned Cypriote ~phimôtika/~:
cf. also _CIG._ 5858b, ~dai/mones kai\ pneu/mata~ (i.e. "souls") ~en
tô=| to/pô| tou/tô| thêlukô=n kai\ arrenikô=n, exorki/zô huma=s~.
The custom of burying such magic defixions was astonishingly
widespread. Defigi diris deprecationibus nemo non metuit, Plin.,
_NH._ 28, 19. In the places where Latin was spoken such abominations
were {605} indeed even more common than in Greek-speaking countries.
(The Latin _defixiones_ are collected now by Wünsch, _Tab. Defix._
xxv f.) The practice had a long life and is not quite dead even
to-day. On the Roman side examples from the seventh and eighth
centuries are by no means rare: see e.g. [Aug.] _Hom. de Sacrileg._,
§ 20. For a Greek example see e.g. the story ap. Sophronius, _SS.
Cyri et Ioannis Miracula_ (saec. vi), chap. 55, p. 3625 Migne:
magical objects were buried under the doorstep of the victim's
house; were discovered and dug up; whereupon the death immediately
followed of--not the victim but--the magician.
12_th August_, 1897 (= 2nd German Ed.).
INDEX
_The figures indicate pages, except where they follow a Roman
numeral, in which case they refer to the numbered notes._
Abarbareë and Boukolion, xiv, ii, 105.
Abaris, 300.
Abioi, 63.
Abipones in Paraguay, i, 30; viii, 28.
Academy, its doctrine of the Soul, xiv, 1.
Acheron, ~Acherousia\s li/mên~, i, 67; v, 25; 241.
Acheron, god of Hades, 591.
Achilles, i, 41; in Hades, 39; translated, 64 f.; on the ~maka/rôn
nê=sos~, xiv, ii, 99; on Leuke, xiv, ii, 102; as Hero or God, 66;
126; iv, 3, 87, 137; xiv, ii, 42.
Admetos, xii, 40; ix, 90.
Adonis, iii, 30.
Adoption, 172; Ritual Act of Adoption in the Mysteries, 601 f.
Aeneas translated, xiv, ii, 110, 114 (ii, **3).
Aeracura, xiv, ii, 144.
Aeschylus, 157; vii, 12; 422 f.; _Agam._ 1235, 591 f.
Aether, the element of the Souls, 435 f.; dwelling place of Souls,
170-1; x, 45; xiv, 53, 69; 541.
Aethiopians, 63.
Ages, different, of Mankind (Hesiod), 67 f.; Golden Ages, ii, 49;
vii, 18.
Agamemnon translated, xiv, ii, 99.
~a/gamoi~ after death, 586; xiv, ii, 154.
Agathos daimon, v, 133.
Agides in Sparta, iv, 53.
Agon, see _Funeral Games_.
Agriania, viii, 28; ix, 11-12.
Agrianios, name of a month in **Boeotia, v, 92.
Aiaia, ii, 14.
Aiakos, vii, 13.
Aias, Hero, 126; 137; xiv, ii, 55, 102; Sophokles' Aias, xii, 88.
~ai/desis~, v, 151.
~Ha/idês = tha/natos, Tha/natos~, xii, 4; = the grave, xiv, ii,
135; confusion of the two ideas, ib., 92; cf. _Hades_.
~eis Ai/dao, A/ïdo/sde~, i, 32.
~Ha/idou mê/têr~, 591 f.
~haimakouri/a~, iv, 13.
Aipytos, 123; iv, 53.
Air, see _Aether_.
Aithalides, xi, 51; 599.
Aithiopis, 64; v, 166; xiv, ii, 102.
Akrisios, iii, 43.
Aktaion, 134.
Akousilaos, 593.
Alabandos, iv, 138.
Alaric, xiv, ii, 172.
~ala/stôr~, v, 148, 178; xii, 73; 592, 595.
Albanians in the Caucasus, i, 30.
Aletes, ix, 66.
Alexander the Great reaches the land of the Blest, xiv, ii, 101;
translated, ib., 107; Return of, and false Alexanders, ib., 112.
Alexander of Aphrodisias, xiv, 34.
Alexis, comic poet, xiv, ii, 143.
~alitê/rios~, v, 176, 178.
Alkandros, iii, 56.
Alkmaion Hero, iv, 105, 136; Physician, xi, 28, 35, 40, 55; xii,
150; xiii, 22.
_Alkmaionis_, v, 17, 40.
Alkmene, iv, 134; translated, xiv, ii, 99.
Alkon, iii, 56.
~allathea/des~, v, 88.
Allegorical interpretation of myths, vi, 23.
Althaimenes, iii, 4.
Ambrosia, 58.
Ameinias (Pythagorean), xi, 30.
Amelesagoras, ix, 58.
~ametastrepti/~, ix, 104.
Ampelius, _Lib. Mem._, viii, 3; iii, 12. {608}
Amphiaraos, translated, 89 f., 92-3; (Zeus Amph.), 94, 101, 159; (not
originally a god), iii, 57; (later cult of), xiv, ii, 104.
~amphidro/mia~, ix, 72.
Amphilochos translated, iii, 5, 13, 56; 133; iv, 105; xiv, ii, 104,
114.
Amphilytos, ix, 59.
Amphion, 238.
~amu/êtoi~, 586 f.
Amyklai, 99 f.
~anabiô/seis~, xi, 103.
Anæsthesia, see _Insensibility_.
Anagyros, Hero, 134.
~ana/mnêsis~ as taught by Pythagoras, Empedokles, Plato, xi, 96; 598
f.
Anaxagoras, vi, 23; 386; 432; xii, 143; fr. 6 [12], xi, 110-11.
Anaximander, x, 38; 366; xi, 98.
Anaximenes, 366; xi, 98.
Ancestor-cult, 10 f.; 27 f.; 77 f. (Hesiod); Ancestors in the cult
of Heroes, 119 f., 527 f.; of the ~ge/nê~, etc., 124 f. (with nn.).
Anchises translated, xiv, ii, 110.
~agchistei/a~ (in the cult of souls), v, 42, 141; 176; xiv, ii, 10.
~anie/nai (ta\ kala/~, etc.), v, 120.
Anima and animus in Lucretius, xiv, 74.
Animals in cult of the dead, v, 105; care of animals enjoined, vi,
35 (and see _Food_); skin of, apotropaic use of, xi, 58 (v, 167);
souls of, x, 45; xiii, 40.
Andronikos (Peripatetic), 512.
~a/nemoi~, x, 45.
~anemokoi=tai~, ix, 107.
Angekoks, of Greenland, 262; ix, 117.
Angels, xiv, ii, 144.
Anthropogony (Orphic), 341 f., (Hesiodic) 67 f.
Anios, iv, 102.
Anthesteria, 168; ix, 11.
_Anthologia Palatina_, xiv, ii, 122.
~anthrôpodai/môn~, ii, 43.
Antichrist, xiv, ii, 113.
Antigone, 163; 426; xii, 94.
Antilochos translated, xiv, ii, 102 (p. 567).
Antinous translated, xiv, ii, 114.
Antiochos of Kommagene, his tomb, xiv, ii, 13 (p. 554).
Antiphon (of Rhamnous, the orator), v, 176; 588.
Antipodes, xiv, ii, 101.
~aôrotha/natoi~, 594 (add Phryn. App. Soph. in Bekk. Anecd., 24,
22).
~a/ôroi~, xiii, 36; 533; 553; 594; 604; xiv, ii, 154.
~aôrobo/ros~ Hekate, ix, 92.
Apis, ix, 68.
~apokata/stasis~, x, 47; 519.
Apollo, 97 f.; 130; xii, 40; god of expiation, 180 f.; as leader of
the Souls, xiv, ii, 146; and Dionysos, 287 f.; supplants Gaia, 290;
Hyakinthos, 99 f.; ~Atu/mnios~, etc., iv, 99.
Apolline _mantiké_, 289 f.
Apollonia in Chalkidike, v, 92.
Apollonios of Tyana, ii, 18; xiv, ii, 115.
~apomagdali/ai~, 595.
~apoma/ttein~, **589, 590.
~apo/nimma~, ix, 88.
~apopompê/ (daimo/nôn)~, v, 168.
~apo/taphoi~, **xiv, ii, 20.
~apotropai=oi (theoi/)~, v, 168.
Apparitions of the departed, xiv, ii, 154; see _Ghosts_.
~a/psucha~ trial held over, iv, 118.
~arai=os (ne/kus, dai/môn)~, v, 148; xii, 107.
Aratos as Hero, xiv, ii, 57 f.
~archêgoi/, archêge/tai~, iv, 51, 55; 527.
Archelaos, the philosopher, 432; xii, 152.
Archemoros Vase, v, 40.
Archilochos, v, 173.
Archon Basileus at Athens, 178.
Areopagos, 162; v, 145; 178.
Argeios and Herakles, i, 35.
Argimpaioi, x, 78.
Arginousai, battle of, 162.
Aristaios, iii, 6.
Aristeas of Prokonnesos, 300, 596.
Aristogeiton and Harmodios in Hades, 237.
Aristogeiton, Speech against, vii, 15.
Aristomenes as Hero, 528.
Aristophanes _Frogs_, 240.
Aristophon, comic poet, 601.
Aristotle, 383; xiv, 1; 493 f. (_An._ 408_b_, 18; xiv, 27).
Aristoxenos, xi, 47, 52; 512.
Aristophanes of Byzantium, 583.
Arkesilaos, xiv, 1.
Art of the Greeks, 157; Cult of Souls as represented in, v, 105.
{609}
Askesis (Asceticism), vi, 35; 302, 338; Orphic, 343; Thracian, x,
78; Pythagorean, xi, 47; Empedokles, 381; practised in foreign
mystery-religions, 546.
Asklepiades, doctor, xi, 69.
Asklepios, iii, 13; chthonic, mantic, 100 f.; his death by
lightning, 582; Asklepiadai, iv, 92 f.
Asphalt (bitumen), apotropaic virtue of, v, 95.
~aspho/delos~ sacred to the ~chtho/nioi~, ix, 115.
Associations: burial, xiv, ii, 4; religious, xiv, ii, 53.
Astakides, xiv, ii, 105; 582.
Astarte, iii, 30.
Astrabakos, 137.
~a/taphoi~, restless wandering of, 163; v, **147; 595 (i, 33).
~ate/lestoi~, uninitiated, lying in mud in the underworld, vii, 15;
586 f.
~atha/natos pêgê/~ (in the underworld), xiv, ii, 151.
Athenaeus (139 E), iii, 48.
Athenaïs, ix, 59.
Athene ~apotropai/a~, v, 168.
Athenodoros, philosopher and Hero, 530.
Athens, 98; A. and Eleusis, 219 f.
Atlantes, x, 78.
Atomists, 385 f.; 506.
Atonement in Plato (Purgation), xiii, 36.
Attis, iii, 30; viii, 55, 546.
Augustine, xiv, ii, 87.
Augustus, ascent to Heaven, of, xiv, ii, 107.
Aurelius, M. Antoninus, xiv, 44, 63, 69; 504.
Ausonius, xiv, ii, 167.
Australian natives, religious dances of, viii, 55; 585.
Autolykos, iv, 101; xiv, ii, 43.
Authority, later Antiquity's need of, 545.
_Axiochos_, the pseudo-Platonic dialogue, vii, 15; xii, 120; 602 f.
Avenging spirit, v, 148, 176; cf. ~ala/stôr~.
Averting the eves from the sight of spirits, ix, 104.
Avoiding the sight of spirits, iv, 84; ix, 104.
Baal, ecstatic prophets of, viii, 43.
Babo, v, 19; 591.
Babylonia, i, 44.
Bacchanalia in Rome, xiv, ii, 106; viii, 54.
Bakchiadai, iv, 46, 47.
~Ba/kchos~, viii, 10, 35; 335; cf. _Dionysos_.
~Ba/kchoi~, viii, 31 f.
Bakis, Bakides, 292; ix, 58, 63, 66; 595.
Banishment, 163; in expiation of murder, 175 f. (v, 142 f.).
Banquet of the Pure (Orphic doctrine of), in the other world, vii,
18; x, 70.
Barathron at Athens, v, 32.
Barbarossa, legend of, iii, 16.
~Basili/dai~, iv, 47.
~Bassareu/s~ (Bassarides), viii, 10 f.
Batloka, viii, 30.
Baubo, 591 f.
Beans, see _Food, prohibition of_.
Beer known to the Thracians, viii, 38.
Bendis, Bendideia at Athens, x, 4.
Berenike, translated, xiv, ii, 107.
Bessoi in Thrace, 260; viii, 53-4.
~biaiotha/natoi (biotha/natoi, bi/aioi~), 175 f.; v, 148, 176; 594
f.; 604.
Birds (incarnations of Heroes), xiv, ii, 102.
Birth, pollution of, 295.
Birthday as day of remembrance of the dead, v, 89; xiv, ii, 18, 45.
Biton and Kleobis, xiv, ii, 148, 170.
Black objects (trees, fruit, etc.) sacred to ~chtho/nioi~, and hence
have kathartic properties, v, 61; ix, 81; cf. ix, 26; 590.
_Blest_, of the dead, 171; vii, 10; xiv, ii, 31; 541 (cf.
~makari/tês~ and _Islands of the Blest_).
Blindness follows the sight of a deity, xiv, ii, 41.
Bliss, life of, in Hades; see _Utopia_.
Blood = thought, 380.
Boccaccio, iv, 134.
Boëthos, xiv, 34 (fin.), 57.
Bones of Heroes, cult paid to, 122.
Born, better not to be, xii, 10.
Boukolion, xiv, ii, 105.
~Bouko/loi~, Dionysiac, viii, 35.
Bouselidai, v, 69, 129.
Brahminism, 302; x, 83.
Brasidas, as Hero, iv, 20; 128.
Breathing out the soul, i, 25; 30.
Bride, contests for the hand of a, i, 19.
Bronze: see _Noise_, etc.
Brotinos (Pythagorean), x, 7. {610}
Brutus, 515; xiv, ii, 88.
Buddhism, viii, 60; x, 83; xi, 54, 96.
Burial, i, 34; oldest customs of, 22 f.; coffinless, v, 61, 62;
inhumation and burning in Attica, v, 58; within the house, at the
hearth, v, 66; xiv, ii, 9; within the city, v, 68; xiv, ii, 8.
Burial societies, xiv, ii, 4.
Burning and inhumation, 19 f.; burning the possessions of the dead,
i, 30, 51; burning the dead; see _Cremation_.
Butios of Antilles, 262.
Cæsar, deification of, xiv, ii, 111.
Calling home the Souls, 42.
Canosa, vase from, vii, 27.
Cannibalism, x, 54.
Caracalla as an avatar of Alexander, xiv, ii, 112.
Cato of Utica, xiv, 64.
Cave of Zeus in Crete, 96 f.
Cave-deities, 89 f.; viii, 68.
Caves, sleep in, ix, 116.
Catacombs, xiv, ii, 144, 166, 174.
Celsus, xiv, ii, 96.
Celts, x, 81.
Cenotaph, i, 88.
Ceremonial of funerals restricted, 165, 167; v, 135; 540.
Cities, Founders of, 127 f.; cf. ~archêgoi/~.
Chains attached to a sacred statue, iv, 108.
~chai=re~ on tombstones, 526 f.
Chalkis, criminal law of, v, 145.
~cha/risma~, 292.
Charon, 237.
~Charô/nion~, v, 23.
Charon's fare given to the dead, 18; 162; vii, 9.
Children, importance of, 172; xii, 7.
China, ancestor-worship in, v, 129.
~choai/~, for the dead, v, 106, 120.
Choes, v, 95; ix, 11.
~chrêstoi/~ of the dead, xiv, ii, 29 f. (vii, 10).
Christianity; ascetics and exorcists, 292, xiv, ii, 171, 179; use of
word ~hê/rôs~, xiv, ii, 82; violation of graves by, xiv, ii, 11;
Hell, 242; future rewards and punishments, xiv, ii, 96; rebirth,
602; Antichrist, xiv, ii, 113.
Christi, Russian sect of, viii, 57.
Chrysippos, xiv, 40, 47, 60-1; xiv, ii, 87.
Chthonic deities, 158 f., 218 f.; vi, 29; groups of ~chtho/nioi~, v,
19; invoked at marriage and birth, 171; ix, 91.
Chytroi, festival at Athens, 168; ix, 11.
Cicero, vi, 22, 23; xiv, 54; 519; xiv, ii, 71, 96.
Cliff of Leukas, xiv, ii, 102.
Closing the eyes of the dead, i, 25.
Coffin-burial, v, 60.
Collegia funeraticia, xiv, ii, 4.
Colonies, Greek, 27; 156.
Comedy, Descents to Hades in, 240.
Conscience, 294, 384.
Consciousness division of, 595; see ~e/kstasis~.
_Consolationes_, xiv, ii, 6, 100.
Corinth, criminal law of, v, 145.
Cornutus, 504.
Corpes devoured by a daimon (Eurynomos), vii, 25; (Hekate), ix, 92.
Cosmopolitanism, v, 34; 499 f.
Cosmos, 29.
Costume, see _Dress_.
Coulanges, Fustel de, iv, 48; v, 131.
Cremation, 8, 19 f., 28; i, 66; iv, 38; v, 33, 58; and burial in
later period, v, 58.
Crete, cult of Zeus in, 96 f.; v, 167; ix, 113-14 (mantic and
kathartic reputation).
Creuzer, 223.
Crossways, 216; ix, 88.
Crowning the dead body with garlands, v, 40.
Crowns (of flowers) for the dead, v, 40.
Crumbs, etc., left on the ground for the Souls, v, 114.
Cult-societies, 221.
Cure of diseases by prophets, 294 f.
Curses against tomb-violators, 526 f.
Curse-tablets; see _Defixiones_.
Cycle, Epic, 34, 64 f., 75, 90.
Cyclic poetry, editing of, x, 17.
Cynics, v, 34; 499.
Cypress at funerals, v, 39.
Daeira, Daira, ~Daeiri/tês~ at Eleusis, vi, 8.
_daemonium meridianum_, ix, 96; 592.
Daimones, deities of second rank, i, 56; distinct from Heroes, iv,
23; xii, 121; in Hesiod, 70 f.; Empedokles, 381; Stoics, 500. {611}
~dai/môn~, personal, of individual men, xiv, 44; (= ~po/tmos~),
xii, 26; xiv, 44; ~agatho\s d.~, v, 133; cf. xiv, 44; ~dai/môn
thnêto/s (anthrôpodai/môn, nekudai/môn)~, ii, 43.
~dai/mones apotro/paioi~, v, 168; ~arai=oi~, v, 148; ~meili/chioi~,
v, 168; ~pla/nêtes~, 592; ~prostro/paioi~, v, 148, 176; = Angel,
xiv, ii, 144; ~daimo/nôn mê/têr~, 591.
Daites, Trojan Hero, iv, 3.
Damon, ix, 19.
Danaides, 242; 587.
Dances, religious, 257; viii, 55; ix, 19.
Dance, circular, in cult of Dionysos, viii, 15.
Dante, 33, 242.
Danube, mouths of, xiv, ii, 102.
Daphne, 100.
~da/phnê~, v, 38, 95; ix, 46; xi, 85.
Daphnis, xiv, ii, 105.
Days, unlucky, v, 158.
Dea Syria, viii, 55.
Dead, offerings to, 18 f.; 165 f.; v, 105; dirge for the, 18, 164;
Banquet of, 168; sacrifices to (Patroklos), 12 f.; in Mycenean
graves, 22 f.; in Od. ~l~, 36 f.; elsewhere, 116, 164, 167 f.;
Oracles of the, 24; i, 73; Judges of the (Aesch. and Plato), 238 f.;
(Pindar), xii, 34 f.; (Aesch.), xii, 77; (later), 541; classes of
the, xii, 62; xiv, ii, 127; imagined as skeletons, xiv, 11, 92;
exorcism, conjuration of, see _Souls_ and _Ghosts_.
Death, **3; superior to life, 229, 542; causing pollution, 295; of
gods, iii, 30; Black Death, 284.
_Defixiones_, ix, 92, 107; 534, 594, 603 f.
Deification of Rulers, 537 f. (cf. 530 f.).
Delos, purification of, ix, 119.
Delphic Oracle, regulates expiatory rites, v, 167; 180 f.; authority
of, in the cult of Heroes, 128 f.; gives support to the cult of
Souls, 174; to the Eleusinian worship, vi, 5; to the worship of
Dionysos in Attica, vi, 9; sources of oracular inspiration, 289 f.;
importance of D. in religious life of Greece, 157; grave of Python
at D., 97; Delphic funeral ordinance, v, 45.
Delphinion at Athens, v, 172.
Demeter (and Kore), 160 f.; v, 168; 218 f.
Demetrios Poliorketes as Hero, xiv, ii, 69.
Demetrios, Cynic, xiv, 64.
Demigods (~hêmi/theoi~), iv, 23.
~dê=moi~ called after ~ge/nê~ in Attica, etc., iv, 52.
Demokritos, xi, 35; 385 f.; xii, 150; xiii, 27; ~peri\ tô=n en
ha/|dou~, xi, 103 (fragg. moral.).
Demonassa, vi, 35.
Demonology, 534.
Demophoön, i, 41.
De mortuis nil nisi bene, v, 81; 170.
Dervishes, viii, 15, 43; 262, 266.
Devil's Bride, ii, 7.
Devil's Mother, 591.
Dexikreon, ix, 111.
Dexion the Hero (Sophokles), iv, 71.
Diagoras of Melos, 240; xii, 65.
Diana = Empousa, 592; in the Middle Ages, ix, 101.
Diasia at Athens. v, 168.
Dies nefasti, v, 158.
Dikaiarchos, xi, 52; 512; 599.
Dikte, Mt. in Crete, 96.
Diochaites, Pythagorean, xi, 30.
Diogenes, of Apollonia, 432, 436.
Diogenes, Cynic, vi, 27; 239.
Diogenes Laertius (viii, 31), xi, 50.
Diomedes, 67; on the ~maka/rôn nê=sos~, xiv, ii, 99.
Dionysos, the Thracian, 256 f.; Greek god, 282 f.; Greek (not
Thracian) name, ix, 1; Orphic, 335 f.; 340 f.
~Dio/nusos maino/menos~, viii, 4; Lord of Souls, 168, 271; ix, 11;
at Delphi, 97, 287; Oracle of Dionysos, 260, 290; as Bull, viii, 19,
33, 35; x, 35; as ~bouko/los~, viii, 35; at Eleusis, vi, 9;
Epiphanies of, 258, 279, 285; Worship of, in Rome, viii, 54; xiv,
ii, 106.
Dioscuri, ~heterê/meroi~, xi, 51; translated, xiv, ii, 109.
Dipylon, cemetery at Athens, v, 58.
Dipylon vases, 165.
Dirge, 164.
Discovery, geographical, xiv, ii, 101.
Disease, origin of, in daimonic influence, 294 f.; ix, 81-2.
Division of consciousness, 595 f.
Dodona, iii, 14; ix, 42. {612}
Dogs sacrificed to Hekate, 298, 589-90; Hekate appears as a dog, ix,
99; 595; on grave reliefs, v, 105.
Dorians in the Peloponnese, 27.
Drakon, 115, 176.
Drama, 285, 421; in cult, 222, 258; mystic drama at Eleusis, 227.
Dreams, visions of the dead in, 7 (proving survival); xiv, ii, 154;
i, 55; see _Incubation_ and _Prophecy_.
Dress in Dionysiac worship, 257.
Drimakos (Hero), 530.
Driving out the souls, v, 99, 100.
Druids, x, 81.
Drusilla (ascent to heaven), xiv, ii, 107.
Dryopes, v, 18.
~Du/alos~, viii, 10.
Duty, as conceived by the Stoics, 498 f.
Earth = Hell, xi, 75.
Earth-deities; see _Chthonic_.
Earth, Oracle of, at Delphi, 97, 160; ix, 46.
Echetlos (Hero), 136.
Echidna, v, 23.
Eckhart, xiii, 75.
~egchutri/striai~, v, 77.
Eggs, kathartic use of, x, 55; 590.
Egypt, i, 5, 39; 242; 335; x, 8, 45; 346; xiv, ii, 109, 152-3, 144.
~ekphora/~ of the dead body, v, 46, 50, 60.
~e/kstasis~ (~enthousismo/s, katochê/~), 30, 255; viii, 24; 258 f.;
284 f.; 293; 300 f.; 384; 471; 547; 595 f.
Eleatics, 371 f.
Elements, the four, xi, 28; 379.
Eleusinian Mysteries, 218 f.; secrecy at, 222; promises made by,
223; modern interpretations of, 223 f.; symbolism at, 226; later
mention and end of (fourth century), 542; xiv, ii, 172; "Lesser
Mysteries" at Athens, 220; and Morality, 228.
Eleusis, v, 19, 21.
Elijah, **ii, 18; xiv, ii, 109.
~elle/boros~ kathartic effects of, ix, 26, 75.
Elpenor, 17; i, 29, 33; 19; 20; 36.
Elysium, 55 f., 59 f., 75 f.; xiv, ii, 99; 541.
Embalming in Egypt, i, 39; in Sparta, iv, 46.
Empedokles, 378 f.; x, 72; xi, 28, 34, 42, 50, 56 f.; xii, 41; xiii,
40, 68; xiv, ii, 107; 597.
Empedotimos, ix, 111-12; xii, 44; xiv, 53.
Empousa, vii, 25; 591.
~enagi/zein~, iv, 15, 86.
~e/nata~, an offering to the dead, v, 82-3.
Enemies of the gods in Hades, 238, 241.
~eniau/sia~ for the dead, v, 81, 90, 92.
~e/ntheos (enthousiasmo/s)~: see ~e/kstasis~.
~enthu/mion~, 216.
Enlightenment in Greece, 79, 115, 292.
~ennaetêri/s~ in expiation of murder, xi, 78; xii, 34, 40; 180.
Enoch, ii, 18; xiv, ii, 109.
Eoiai, Hesiodic, 593.
~epagôgê/ (daimo/nôn)~, ix, 106-7.
Ephialtes (daimon), ix, 102; xiv, ii, 86; 592.
Ephyrai in Thesprotia, v, 23.
Epicharmos, vi, 5; 436 f.; xii, 151; xiv, 53.
Epidauros, iii, 13, 54.
Epidemics, religious, 284.
Epigenes, 597.
Epikteta, Testament of, v, 126; xiv, ii, 18, 71.
Epiktetos, 504; xiv, 3, 41, 44.
Epicurus, doctrine of the soul, 504 f.; foundation for the cult of
his soul, v, 126, 137.
_Epigrammata Graeca_, ed. Kaibel, xiv, ii, 119 f. (No. 594: 141).
Epilepsy (see mental diseases), viii, 39.
Epimachos, v, 19.
Epimenides, 301; iii, 24; v, 57; 596; _Theogony_ of, ix, 123.
~epipha/neia~ of Dionysos, 258; viii, 68; 285.
~epipompai/ (daimo/nôn)~, v, 168; ix, 107.
Epitaphs, 539 f. (see _Anth. Pal._).
~epô|dai/~, ix, 81-2, 107.
Erechtheus (Erichthonios), 98; 581.
Erinyes, ii, 6; v, 5, 97, 121; 178 f.; vii, 6; xii, 75; 592.
~erinu/ein~, ix, 58.
Eros, v, 112.
~escha/ra~, i, 53.
Eskimo, manner of burial, v, 67
Essenes, x, 78; xiv, ii, 117.
Esthonian cult of the dead, v, 99.
~e/tai~, v, 141.
Eteoboutadai, iv, 52.
~euagê/s~, xii, 58.
~Eua/ggelos~ Hero, xiv, ii, 63, 144.
Euadne, **582.
~Eua/pan~, ix, 102 {613}
Eubouleus (Euboulos), god of the underworld, v, 7, 19; 220; xiv, ii,
145.
Eudemos, _Ethics_ of, 512.
Euhemeros, iii, 28.
Eukleides (Socratic), xiv, 44.
Euklos, ix, 58.
Eumolpos, Eumolpidai, vi, 6, 16; x, 70.
Eunostos (Hero), 134.
Euodos (Hero), 529.
Eupatridai in Athens, iv, 47; v, 139; 602 f.
Euphemistic names for ~chtho/nioi~, v, 5.
Euphorbos, 599.
Euripides, 432 f.; _Alcestis_, xii, 121; _Bacchae_, 286; _Hecuba_,
viii, 70; orthodoxy of, xii, 135.
Eurynomos, Hades-daimon, vii, 25.
Eurypontidai, iv, 53.
Eurysthenidai, iv, 53.
~eusebô=n chô=ros~, vii, 15; xiv, ii, 133.
Euthykles, iv, 117.
Euthymos, 135; 581.
Evil, speaking, of the dead forbidden, v, 115.
Evil, nature of, 470 (Plato); 498; xiv, 40, 60.
Exegetai, their advice sought in questions relating to the cult of
Souls, v, 139, 174.
Exorcism, 604.
Expiation, gods of, v, 168; sacrifices of, made to ~chtho/nioi~, v,
167; after murder, 180 f.
Eyes of the dead, closing of, i, 25.
Fainting (~lipopsuchi/a~), i, 9.
Fame, all that is left to the dead, 43; xii, 13, 20, 25; xiv, ii,
169.
Family graves in the country, v, 69, 70; 525 f.
Fate and guilt, 423 f., 426 f.
Fear of the dead, 16, 163, 169; of death, dispelled by Epicurus,
506; breaks out at the end of the classical period, 545 (xiv, **ii,
170).
Feet of the corpse pointing towards the door, i, 26.
Fetishism in Greece, iv, 118.
Figs, kathartic uses of, 590.
Fire, kathartic uses of, i, 41; ix, 127.
Fish: see _Food, prohibition of_.
Flaminius as Hero, 531.
Folk-poetry, 25; belief about the souls, 524; legends about the
"translated", xiv, ii, 105.
Folk tales (Greek), iv, 115; xiv, ii, 151.
Food, Prohibition of certain foods (attributed to Eleusis), vi, 35;
among the Orphics, x, 54-5; Thracian, x, 78; by Pythagoras, xi, 42,
47; Empedokles, xi, 76, 85.
Fountains in Hades, xii, 62; xiv, ii, 151; of Immortality, xiv, ii,
151.
Fravashi (Persian), i, 5.
Frederick, legend of the return of the Emperor, 93; xiv, ii, 112.
Freewill: see _Will_.
Friendship in the doctrine of the Epicureans, 506.
Funeral rites, in Homer, 17 f.; in later times, 162 f., 524 f.; of
princes, i, 17; of kings in Sparta, Corinth, Crete, iv, 46; at
public expense, xiv, ii, 5; refusal of, v, 32-3.
Funeral feast in Homer, 18; later (~peri/deipnon~), 167; games, in
Homer, 15; for Heroes, 116 f.; procession, 165; v, 60.
Furious Host, ii, 7; 298; xiii, 5; (593).
Fustel de Coulanges; see _Coulanges_.
Gabriel, the Archangel, iv, 134.
Gaia, 160, 168; v, 121; at Delphi, 290.
Gambreion, mourning period of, v, 86.
Games, 15, 116 f.; iv, 22; originally funeral ceremonies, 116 f.
Ganymedes, 58.
Garganus, mountain in Italy, iv, 92, 96.
Garlands for the dead, v, 40.
Gauls, x, 81.
Gello, 592.
~gene/thlios dai/môn~, xii, 26.
~Gene/sia~, private and public, v, 15; 167.
_Genesis_, ii, 18.
Genetyllis, ix, 91.
~ge/nê~, 124.
Genius, i, 5; v, 132; xiv, 44.
~gennê/tês tô=n theô=n~, 603.
German tribes, i, 34; 22.
Getai, 263.
Ghosts, 9; 21; 29; 134; v, 99, 104, 114; 534; xiv, ii, 154; 566; 590
f.
~Gi/gôn~, viii, 10.
Glaukos, xiv, ii, 151.
Gnostics, xiv, ii, 179. {614}
Gods, in Homer, 25 f.; Olympians and others, **i, 56; idea of
divinity, xiv, ii, 107; Gods not immortal, 384; asleep or dead, iii,
30; buried, 96 f.; birthdays of, v, 89; in human shape, iv, 134;
visiting men, ii, 38; compared with men, 253 f., 414; periodically
appearing, viii, 28; of expiation, v, 168; amours of, iv, 134;
conductors into the lower world, xiv, ii, 144 f.; unknown, iv, 62;
statues of, 136; see _Chthonic_.
Goethe, xiii, **64.
Golden Age, 67 f.; ii, 49; vii, 18.
~gonei=s~, iv, 49; v, 146.
Gorgias, pupil of Empedokles, 378.
~Gorgu/ra, Gorgô/~, vii, 25; 591.
Grace of the gods (salvation), 342.
Grave and Hades confused, xiv, ii, 92.
Graves: see _Burial_, _Family-graves_, and _Rock-graves_; of Gods,
96; of Asklepios, 101; Erechtheus, 98; Hyakinthos, 99; Kekrops, iii,
41; Plouton, iii, 34; Python, 97; Zeus, 96; of Heroes, 121; cult of,
123, 166 f.; silence at, v, 110; curses attached to, xiv, ii, 13.
Grave-monuments, i, 28; v, 69 f.
Grave-robbers, 526.
Gregory the Great, xiv, ii, 87.
Grief, display of, disturbing to the dead, v, 49.
Guardian spirit of individuals, xiv, 44.
Guilt: see _Sin_ and _Fate_.
Hades, 26, 35 f., 159, 223, 236 f.; xii, 4, 62; 500, 535 f., 540 f.;
Picture of, painted by Polygnotos, 241 f.; on vases from Southern
Italy, vii, 27; cult of, 159; mother of, 591; entrances to
(Ploutonia), v, 23; Ferryman of, vii, 9; Descents to, 32 f.; i, 62,
65; iii, 8; 236 f.; 240 f.; (Epic), vii, 2-4; (Theseus and
Peirithoos), vii, 3; (Herakles), 591; (in comedy), 240 f.; (vases),
vii, 27; (Orphic), x, 60; (Pythag.), 600 f.; rivers of, 35, 237;
vii, **21; Judges in, 247.
Hail: see _Weather-magicians_.
~haimakouri/a~, iv, 13.
Hair, offering of, i, 14.
Hallucinations, 259; **262.
Haloa, 222; vi, 35.
Hamilcar, translation of, xiv, ii, 109.
Haokah dance of the Dakota, viii, 55.
Harmodios, translation of, xiv, ii, 99; and Aristogeiton in the
other world, vii, 5.
Harmonia and Kadmos, xiv, ii, 99.
~harmoni/a~ (of the soul), xi, 52.
Harpocration on ~A/baris~, ix, 108.
Harpies, 56; v, 124; 593.
Hashish, 259.
Hasisatra, ii, 18; xiv, ii, 109.
Hearth, earliest place of burial, v, 66.
Heaven (the sky), as dwelling place of the Blest, xii, 44, 62; xiv,
ii, 134; ascent to, of Roman Emperors, xiv, ii, 107; of Apollonios
of Tyana, xiv, ii, 115.
Hedonism, 492 (xiv, **3).
Hegesias, xiv, **3.
Heirs, their duties to the dead, v, 129.
Hekabe, ix, 99.
Hekate, v, 5, 88, 168; 297 f., 590 f.; (_H. Hek._, p. 289 Ab.), 594;
Hosts of 593 f.; Banquet of, v, 97; 216; ix, 88, 103.
~Hekatika\ pha/smata~, 590 f.
Hektor, as Hero, iv, 35; xiv, ii, 41 (still worshipped with
sacrifice in the middle of the fourth century in the Troad: Julian,
_Ep._ 78, p. 603-4 H.).
Helen, legend of her ~ei/dôlon~, i, 79; translated, ii, 21; xiv, ii,
99, 102; given heroic honours, 137.
Helios in Hades, xii, 38.
Hell, punishment in, 40 f.; 238 f., 242, 344, 415, 536; creatures
of, 25, 590 f. (see _Kerberos_).
Hemithea, iv, 103.
~hêmi/theos~, iv, 23.
Hephaistion, xiv, ii, 70.
Herakles in the Odyssean Nekyia, 39; his descent to Hades, v, 25;
vii, 4; 591; H. and Argeios, i, 35; H. and Eurystheus (Omphale), xii,
40; as Hero-God, 132; translated, 581; xiv, ii, 103.
Herakleides Ponticus, ix, 58, 60 (Sibyls), 108 (Abaris), 111, 96;
xii, 44 (Empedotimos); xi, 61 (Empedokles); xiv, i, 53 (souls in the
air); 599 f. (Pythagoras).
Herakleitos, 367 f.; xi, 5, etc., 101; xii, 137, 150; 464; xiv, 32;
499; 504; 597.
Hermes, conductor of souls, 9, 168; xiv, ii, 145. {615}
Hermione, cult of ~chtho/nioi~ there, iii, 34; v, 18, 26.
Hermippos, 600.
Hermotimos, 300 f.
Hero of Alexandria, xii, 150.
Herodes Atticus, xiv, ii, 71, 131.
Herodikos, of Perinthos, vii, 3; x, 7.
Heroes, 74, 97 f., 115 f.; iii, 46; 254; 416; xii, 121; help in war,
136 f.; graves of, 121; v, 68; games for, 116 f.; bones of,
transferred and worshipped, iv, 35-6; 529; as Birds, xiv, ii, 102;
relation with ~theoi/~ and ~dai/mones~, iv, 25; become gods, 132;
Homeric "Heroes", iv, 26; in Hesiod, 74 f., 118; nocturnal sacrifice
to, iv, 9; what falls to the ground sacred to, v, 114; in Pindar,
414 f.; legends of, 134 f.; later, 527 f.
~hê/rôs~ = a dead person, v, 110, 134; 531; (Christian), xiv, ii,
82; applied to the living, 530 f.; xiv, ii, 68; nameless or
adjectival Heroes, 126 f., 529; xiv, ii, 61-2; ~hê. iatro/s~ iv,
94-5; xiv, ii, 45; ~hê. suggenei/as~, v, 132.
Heroized Kings and Lawgivers, 128; Kings of Sparta, Corinth, and
Crete, iv, 46; Warriors of the Persian Wars, 528; prominent men of
later times, 530; Heroizing easier in Boeotia, v, 134; in Thessaly,
xii, 121; 532; becomes common, 531 f.; substitution of descendants
for original Hero, xiv, ii, 65.
Hero-Physicians (Oracular), 133; xiv, ii, 45.
~hê/rôes duso/rgêtoi~, v, 119.
~hêrô=|a~ at the doors, iv, 105, 136; v, 68.
~Hêrôïko/s~ of Philostratos, xiv, ii, 41.
~hêrôï\s, hêrôïka/~, ix, 11; xiv, ii, 50; Birthday festivals of H.,
v, 89.
~hêrôïstai/~, xiv, ii, 53.
Herodotos, 115; xii, 8.
Herophile of Erythrai, ix, 60.
Hesiod, The Five Ages, 67 f.; _Op. et D._ (124), ii, 34; (141), ii,
41; _Theog._ (411), ix, 95a.
Hesychos, vii, 6.
Hierapolis, its ~ploutô/nion~, v, 23.
~hierothe/sion~, xiv, ii, 13 (p. 554).
Hierophant at Eleusis, ~eunouchisme/nos~, vi, 12.
~hilasmo/s~, v, 167.
Hippokrates, cult of, v, 89; xiv, ii, 45.
Hippolytos, iv, 38.
Hippon of Samos, 432.
Hippotes, xii, 40.
Herdsman (shepherd), type of God, xi, 36; (see divine apparitions),
xiv, ii, 41.
Homer, 25 f., 157.
Homicide, state trials of, 176 f.; held over inanimate objects (in
Athens), iv, 118.
Horace (_Odes_, iv, 2, 21), xii, 45.
Honey-cakes offered to the underworld, i, 13; v, 98; vii, 6.
~hô/ria, hôrai=a~ offered to the dead, v, 128.
Horse in the cult of the dead, v, 105.
Host, Furious, ii, 7; 298; xiii, 5; (593).
House, earliest place of burial, v, 66.
House-spirit, v, 132.
Human sacrifice, ix, 87; in the cult of Dionysos, 285; offered by
Epimenides, ix, 121; in the cult of Heroes, xiv, ii, 49; replaced by
animal sacrifice or ~poinê/~, v, 144; 179-80.
Humanity: see _Mankind_.
Hunt: see _Host_.
Hyades, iii, 45.
~Huaki/nthia~, 99 f.
Hyakinthides, iii, 45.
Hyakinthos, 99 f.
**Hydromantia, 589.
Hydrophoria at Athens, v, 98.
Hylas, xiv, ii, 105.
Hylozoism, 365, 385, 432.
~hupopho/nia~, v, 154.
Iamblichos, _Vit. Pythag._, viii, 77.
Iakchos, 220 f.
Ianthe, iii, 3.
Iaso, iii, 56.
Iatromantic, 133.
Iatros, Hero, iv, 94-5; xiv, ii, 45.
Iceland, i, 43.
Idaian cave in Crete, 96; 161.
Images, cult of, 136.
Immortal = godlike (becoming god), in Homer, 57; = _being_ a god,
253 f.
Immortality, Belief in, connected with Dionysiac religion, 263 f.;
among Orphics, 343 f.; in Philosophy, 365 f.; 463 f.; 496; xiv, 60;
in Popular Religion, 538 f.; 542; 546; doubts of, xiv, ii, 157.
{616}
Imprecations: see _Curses_.
Incas, i, 30.
Incense in temples, viii, 39; ix, 19.
Incubation, iii, 8; 92; ix, 46; Heroic oracles of, 133.
Indians, Burial customs, 10, 21-2; cult of the dead, i, 75; v, 84-6,
90, 105, 123; Yama in Hades, vii, 6; religious anæsthesia, viii, 26;
Yogis, viii, 43; kartharsis, ix, 78; Ascetics, 343; x, 78;
philosophy (Jainism), xi, 16; (South American) mutilation of
corpses, i, 34; (North American) cult of souls, v, 136.
Individualism, 117; 388 f.; 499 f.; 545.
Inheritance, laws of, v, 146.
Ino Leukothea, 58; iv, 104.
Insanity: see _Madness_ and _Mental_.
Inscriptions (_I.G._ (_xiv_) _Sic. et It._ 641), xii, 49 f.; (_IG. M.
Aeg._ i, 142), xiv, ii, 146; (_Ath. Mitt._), xiv, ii, 164, 168.
Insensibility to pain, etc., in visionary states, viii, 43.
Inspiration, prophecy of, 92 f.; (in Thrace), 260; (in Greece), 289 f.
Intoxication, religious use of, viii, 39.
Invisibility (in Homer), 56.
Iolaia in Thebes, iv, 21.
Ionia, 27 f.
Iphigeneia, 64, 66; xiv, ii, 99, 102.
Iphis, iii, 3.
Iron keeps away daimones and the dead, i, 72.
Isaeus, v, 129.
Ischys, iii, 56.
Isis, mysteries of, xiv, ii, 174.
Islands of the Blest (Hesiod). 68 f.; (Pindar), 415 f.; translation
of Heroes to, xiv, ii, 99; dwelling-place of all the pious, xiv, ii,
100, 130 f.; discovered by sailors, xiv, ii, 101; identified with
Leuke, xiv, ii, 99, 102.
Isodaites, 271.
Isokrates, vi, 22; ii, 43.
Isthmian Games, iv, 22.
Isyllos, iv, 2.
Ixion, vii, 11.
Jainism (see _Indian_), xi, 16.
Japan, cult of dead in, v, 99.
Jaws of the dead, binding up the, xiv, ii, 2.
Jewish forgery of a Pindaric poem, xii, 45.
Jews, influenced by Greeks, xiv, ii, 14.
Jews influence Greeks, xiv, ii, 144.
Judaeo-Hellenistic doctrine of the soul, xiv, ii, 117.
Judgment in Hades, 238 f., 535 f., 541; Orphic, 344; Pindar, 415;
Plato, xiii, 36.
Julian the Apostate, xiv, ii, 107, 144, 171.
Julius Kanus, xiv, 64.
jus talionis, x, 71.
Justin, ~pro\s He/ll.~, 3, xiv, ii, 151. (The emendation ~pidu/sas~
is already mentioned, as I see too late, in the Mauriner edition of
Justin Martyr. The apparently traditional ~ho/rê pêdê/sas~ is indeed
possible on grammatical grounds [analogous constructions, otherwise
peculiar to poetry, are not unknown in prose: see Lobeck ad Aiac.^3,
p. 69-70], but provides no satisfactory sense.)
Ka of Egyptians, i, 5.
Kadmos translated to Islands of the Blest, xiv, ii, 99.
Kaiadas at Sparta, **v, 32.
Kaineus, iii, 3.
Kalchas, iv, 96.
Kalypso, xiv, ii, 105.
Kanobos, iii, 43.
Kanus Julius, xiv, 64.
Kapaneus, 581 f.
~Karkô/~, 592.
Karmanor, ix, 113.
Karneades, xiv, 59, 61, 83.
~karpou=n~, v, 126.
Kassandra, viii, 52; ix, 65.
~katadei=n, kata/desmos, kata/desis~ in magic, ix, 107; 604.
~katha/rmata~ given up to the spirits, ix, 88 (cf. 81).
Kathartic practices, etc., v, 36; 180; vi, 18; vii, 15; 294 f.; 302;
378; 582; 585; 589 f.
~ka/tharsis mani/as~ (music), ix, 19; (of Pythagoreans), xi, 48; by
Melampous, 287; Bakis, 294; Orphic, 338 f.; 343; Empedokles, xi, 85;
Plato, 470.
~kathe/drai~, festival of Souls, v, 86.
~ka/tochos~, of magic, ix, 107.
~ka/tochoi, katochê/, kate/chesthai~, of "possession", viii, 24, 44.
Kattadias (Devil-priests of Ceylon), viii, 55.
Kaukones, v, 12. {617}
Kaunians, v, 99.
Kausianoi, viii, 75, 77.
Kekrops, iii, 41.
Keos, funeral ordinance from, v, 42, 52, 56, 74, 76-7, 87, 92, 135.
Kerberos, vii, 6.
~kê=res~ = souls, i, 10; v, 100; ix, 92.
Kerkops (Pythagorean), x, 7; 597.
Kerykes, vi, 6, 16.
Key, keeper of, in Hades, vii, 13.
Kikones of the Odyssey, 42.
Kimon as Hero, 129.
Kirke, 32; v, 169.
Kissing the hand to a grave, xiv, ii, 26-7.
Kleanthes, xiv, 41, 47.
~kleidou=choi theoi/~, 247.
Kleisthenes, 124.
Kleitos, 58.
Kleobis and Biton, xiv, ii, 148.
Kleombrotos, xiv, 3.
Kleomedes (Hero), 129; xiv, ii, 114.
Kleomenes as Hero, xiv, ii, 59.
Klymenos = Hades, v, 8, 18; reduced to rank of Hero, iii, 34.
Knossos, 96; iii, 25.
Kore, 160; v, 11; 219 f.; 224; xiv, ii, 146.
Koronis, iii, 56.
Korybantism, viii, 36, 52; 286 f.
Kos (Ge), v, 16.
Kotytto, 336.
Kouretes, v, 167.
~kôlu/mata~, magic spells, ix, 81.
Kragos, iii, 30.
Krantor, xiv, 1.
Krataiis, 593.
Krates (Cynic), v, 34.
Kratinos, vii, 17.
Kratippos, 512.
~krei/ttones~ = the dead, v, 65, 110, 117.
Krinagoras, vi, 22.
Kritias, _Sisyphos_, x, 54.
Kritolaos, xiv, 32.
Krobyzoi, viii, 65, 75.
Krokos, iii, 43.
Kronos, ruler in Elysium, 76.
~kte/rea kterei/zein~, i, 20, 29.
Kybele, 257; viii, 32, 43, 55; 286 f.; ix, 56; xiv, ii, 174.
Kychreus (~puchrei/dês o/phis~), iv, 129.
Kydas, ix, 66.
**Kyffhäuser, legend of, 93; xiv, ii, 112.
Kylon, at Athens, ix, 120.
Kyme, criminal law of, v, 145.
_Kypria_, 64.
Labyadai, their funeral ordinance in Delphi, v, 52, 85, 128.
Lamentation disturbs the dead, v, 49.
Lamia, vii, 25; 592 f.
Lanterns, feast of in Japan, v, 99.
Laodike, iii, 6.
_Lar familiaris_ and _Lares_ at Rome, v, 132.
Latinus, translation of, xiv, ii, 110.
Laurel, drives away ghosts, v, 95.
Law, unwritten, 163, 426; xii, 94.
Lebadeia, 90 f., 95; iii, 26; v, 19, 133; xiv, ii, 104.
Lectisternia, iii, 26; iv, 16.
Lekythoi, v, 38; 169; 170; 237.
Lemnos, feast of the dead in, ix, 76.
Lemuria in Rome, v, 99.
Leonidas (as Hero), iv, 20; 528.
Leosthenes (Hero), vii, 5; xiv, ii, 59.
Lerna, ix, 88; viii, 28.
Lethe, vii, 21; xii, 37; and Mnemosyne, fountains of, xiv, ii, 151.
Leto, iii, 46
Leuke, I. of Achilles, 65, 66; xiv, ii, 102; Cliff of, ib.
Leukothea: see _Ino._
Lie, justification of, xii, 72.
Life, 3, 31; repudiation of, viii, 75; only lent, xiv, ii, 161; 505;
Water of life, xiv, ii, 151-2; Future Life, 236 f.; see _Hades_ and
_Ways_.
Lightning sanctifies its victim, iii, 39; 100; v, 68; ix, 127; xii,
54; xiv, ii, 154; 581 f.
Linos, iii, 43.
Lobeck, 222.
Local deities and their cults, 25 f.; 27.
~lo/gos~, 499; xiv, 69.
Lokroi, criminal law of, v, 145.
Lot, oracles received by means of (Delphi, 290.
**~loutropho/roi~, 587.
Lucian, iii, 28; 236; _de Luctu_, xiv, ii, 2; _Philops._, xiv, ii,
87, 144; **ix, 96.
Lucretius, 505.
Lydia, v, 167.
Lying-in-state of the dead, 165.
Lykaios, Zeus, v, 170.
Lykas (Hero), iv, 114.
Lykia, imprecatory tablets from graves in, 553.
Lykian language, iv, 99.
Lykos (Hero), iv, 114. {618}
Lykourgos, King of Edonians, ix, 3; in Sparta worshipped as Hero and
God, 132; sanctified by lightning, 581.
Lyric poetry of the Greeks, 157; 411 f.
Lysander as Hero, 531.
Lysimachos (Hero), xiv, ii, 67.
~lu/sios Dio/nusos~, ix, 21; ~lu/sioi theoi/~, x, 50.
~lu/sis~ of the soul, x, 61, 66; xiii, 67.
Mâ, worshipped with ecstatic cult, viii, 43, 55.
Macedonians, viii, 31.
Machaon and Podaleirios, iv, 92.
Macriani, xiv, ii, 112.
Madness cured by magic, ix, 19, 81; cf. _Mental diseases_.
Magical papyri, xiv, ii, 144; 589; 592; 604; cf. _Defixiones_.
Magicians, among savage peoples, 261 f.; Greek, 294 f., 298 f.; xi,
58; 533 f.; 604.
Mahâbhârata, iii, 3.
~maina/s~, 256.
~makari/tês~ (of the dead), vii, 10; xiv, ii, 31.
~maka/rôn nê=soi~: see _Islands of the Blest_.
Manes, v, 99, 133.
~mani/a~, divine, 255 f.; 286 f.; in the worship of Dionysos, 282 f.
Manichaeans, x, 83.
Mankind, origin of, according to the Orphics, 341 f.; generations
(Ages) of, in Hesiod, 67 f.
~ma/nteis~, ix, 41 f.; as magicians, ix, 68.
_Mantiké_ (inspired prophecy), 260, 289 f.
Marathon, iv, 84; 136; Grave of the dead at, xiv, ii, 37.
Marjoram, kathartic, apotropaic uses of, v, 36.
Maron (Hero), xiv, ii, 41.
~maschalismo/s~, 181; 582 f.
Massagetai, 259.
Materialism, 385.
"Matriarchy," not Greek, xii, 75.
Medea translation of, xiv, ii, 99; (v, 169).
Medicine men (North American Indians), 262; ix, 68, 117; dance of
the Winnebago, viii, 55.
~me/gara~, iii, **7.
~meili/choi theoi/~, v, 168; ~Dio/nusos meili/chios~, ix, 21.
Meilinoe, v, 5; ix, 96.
Melampous, 89; 287.
Melanippides, xii, 1, 21.
Melesagoras, ix, 58.
Memnon, 64 f.
Menelaos (translation of), 55 f.; iv, 2; ii, 21.
Menestheus, iv, 100.
Mental diseases, origin and cure of, 286 f.; ix, 19, 81.
Metal, noise of, drives away ghosts, i, 72; ix, 83; see _Iron_,
_Bronze_.
Metamorphoses, iii, 3; x, 82.
~metempsu/chôsis~, x, 84; see _Transmigration_.
Metrodoros, allegorical interpretation of mythology, vi, 23.
Metrodoros (Epicurean), xiv, 85, 86, 97.
~mê\ phu=nai~, xii, 10.
~mê/nima theô=n~, v, 148; ~alitêri/ôn~, v, 176.
~mi/asma~, v, 176; 295 f.
~mia/stôr~, v, 178.
Michael, the Archangel, iv, 96.
Midas, 412.
Mid-day, spectres appearing at, ix, 96; xiv, ii, 41; 592 f.
Migrations, Greek, 27, 155, 161, 284.
Milky Way (abode of the souls), ix, 111; xii, 44.
Miltiades, as Hero, iv, 20.
Mimnermos, xii, 7.
Mind, 5, 29 f., 383, 387, 493 f.
Mingrelians, i, 30.
Minos (and Zeus, in Crete), 96; Judge in Hades, vii, 13.
_Minyas_, **vii, 3; 237, 238, 282.
Miracle, 254; xiv, ii, 40-1, 45, 70; 537; desire for in later ages
of antiquity, 546 f.
Missions, sent out from Eleusis, 161.
Mithras, Mysteries of, xiv, ii, 144, 153, 172, 174.
Mitylene, funeral ordinance of, v, 54.
Mitys, iv, 118.
~mnê/mê~ (Empedokles and Pythagorean), xi, 96; and ~lê/thê~ in Hades
(Pindar), xii, 37; xiv, ii, 151.
Mnemosyne, xii, 37; xiv, ii, 151.
~moi=ra~, 29.
Moon and stars inhabited by souls, x, 75; xi, 116; xiv, **53.
Monism, 432; 500. {619}
Mopsos, iii, 5, 13; 133.
Morality, 40; 228; 294 f.; 302; 376.
~Mormolu/kê, Mormô/~, vii, 25; 592.
Moschion, x, 54.
Moses, ii, 18; xiv, ii, 109.
Motes in the sunbeam = Souls (Pythagoras), xi, 40; Emped. **xi, 101.
Mountains, legends about, 263; viii, 68.
Mourning, period of, 167.
Mousaios, x, 70.
~mu/chioi theoi/~, iii, 35.
~muei=n~, vi, 16.
Murderer, excluded from religious worship, vi, 17.
Murder, action for, religious sense of, 180 f.; expiation of, 174
f., 138; xii, 34, 40.
Murder trials; see _Homicide_.
Music in Dionysiac worship, 257; as a cure for Korybantic frenzy and
other diseases, 286 f.; ix, 19; xi, 48.
Musonius, v, 34; 503.
_Mutterrecht_, not Greek, xii, 75.
Mutilation of the dead, 582 f.
Mycenae, 22, 27, 122.
Mykonos (cult of Chthonic Zeus), v, 3, 7, 16.
Myrtle sacred to ~chtho/nioi~, iv, 21; v, 40, 61.
Mysians, x, 78.
Mysteries: see _Eleusinian M._; Orphic, 343 f.; Samothracian, vi,
34; (see also _Isis_ and _Mithras_).
Mysticism, 225 f., 254 f., 262, 291 f., 344; xiii, 75, 104; xiv, 1.
Myth, allegorical interpretation of, vi, 23.
Name, calling the dead by, 42, 527; of Hero used in sacrificing, iv,
62; in invocation of avenging spirits, 604.
Nameless Gods, iv, 62; Heroes, 126 f.; 529; xiv, ii, 61, 63.
Namnites in Gaul, viii, 55.
Narcissus (Orphic?), x, 29.
~na/rthêx~, viii, 22.
National Heroes: see ~archêgoi/~.
"Nature," religion of, 223 f.
Naulochos (Hero), xiv, ii, 74.
Nectar, 58.
nefasti dies, v, 158.
Negro tribes, i, 34; v, 110; 271.
Nekyia of the Odyssey, 32 f.; iii, 8; 237 f.; 240 f.; 2nd Nekyia, i,
62, 65; N. in other epics, 237 f., (see _Descents_); on vases, vii,
27.
~neku/sia~, v, 92.
Nemea, iv, 22.
~neme/seia, ne/mesis, Ne/mesis~, **v, 91.
Neoplatonic writers, x, 27, 29, 38; 596 f.
Neoptolemos, translation of, xiv, ii, 99.
Nero, translated (Antichrist), xiv, ii, 113.
Neurotic diseases, cure of, 286 f.
New Zealand (method of burial), v, 67.
Nightmare, ix, 102; xiv, ii, 86.
Nine, sanctity of number, v, 84; xiii, 45; xiv, ii, 154.
Noise of bronze or iron drives away ghosts, i, 72; v, 167; ix, 83.
Nostoi, 66 f.
Novel (Greek, etc.), iv, 134; xiv, ii, 87.
Novemdialia: festival in Rome, v, 84.
~nou=s~, in Anaxagoras, 387 f.; in Aristotle, 493 f.; cf. 383.
Numbers (Pythagorean mystical theory of), x, 9.
Nyktelios, Nyktelia, viii, 28; 285; ix, 36.
~numpho/lêptos~, ix, 63.
~ek numphô=n ka/tochos~, ix, 58.
Nymphs, agents of Translation, xiv, ii, 105.
Oath, religio-juristic significance of, 41 f.; v, 156; 238; xi, 77;
xii, 40.
Oath-breaking punished in Hades; see _Perjury_.
Oath taken by both parties in a suit, v, 156.
Obolos for the ferryman of the dead: see _Charon_.
Ocrisia, v, 132.
Odyssey, 32 f., 55, 62 f., 236; 2nd Nekyia, i, 62, 65.
Odysseus, end of, ii, 30; oracle of, iv, 97; as Hero, xiv, ii, 41;
O. and Kalypso, xiv, ii, 105.
Oedipus, 430 f.; xii, 85, 112 f.
Oikistes, 127 f.
Oinomaos, iv, 2.
Oknos, 241.
Olbia, xiv, ii, 102. {620}
Olive, kathartic effects of, v, 36-7, 61; ix, 72.
Olympos as dwelling-place of souls, xiv, ii, 135.
Olympia, iv, 22, 62; 121, 160; v, 98.
~ômothetei=n~, 584 f.
~omphalo/s~ at Delphi, iii, 31.
Onomakritos, 336-7, 338 f.; (the Lokrian), ix, 113.
Oracles of Heroes, 133 f.; of Earth, 160; see _Delphi_, _Dodona_,
_Incubation_.
Orators, Greek, 413.
Orators' official speeches of consolation, xiv, ii, 6.
Orestes, iv, 35; 178; 424, 426.
Orgeones, 124.
Orgiastic cults in Greece, ix, 56; in Thessaly and Phrygia, 257.
Orient influenced by Greece, 539.
Origen, _c. Cels._, iii, **20; xiv, 33.
Orion, 39; 58.
Oropos, 92; iii, 19, 56; xiv, ii, 104.
Orpheus, ~kata/basis eis Ha/idou~, vii, 3, 27; x, 60; of Kamarina,
x, 7; of Kroton, x, 7, 11.
Orphics, v, 99; 124; vi, 13; vii, 15, 18; 335 f.; xii, 137; xiii,
44; 70a; 586; alleged influence in Homer, x, 5.
Orphic cult of Bakchos, x, 1; poetry, authorship of, x, 7;
Rhapsodical Theogony, ix, 123; 339-40; 596 f.; other Theogonies, x,
21; origin of mankind in, 339 f.; x, 77; six Rulers of the world, x,
40; Asceticism, 342 f.; kathartic doctrine, 338; ideas of Hades, 344
f.; doctrine of rebirth and Transmigration of souls, 345 f.;
grave-tablets (Sicily), 417 f.; xiv, ii, 151; 598, 601; _Hymns_,
xiv, ii, 173.
Orphica (fr. 120). x, 22; (fr. 226), x, 48.
Orphico-Pythagorean Hymnus on Number, x, 9.
~Ortugi/ê~, ii, 25.
Os resectum of the Romans, i, 34.
~ho/sioi~, the Pure, vi, 18; 343.
Osiris, xiv, ii, 152.
Ostiaks, religious dances of the, viii, 55.
~oxuthu/mia~, 216; ix, 88.
~ouk ê/mên, geno/mên ktl.~ on epitaphs, xiv, ii, 167.
Ouranos, x, 28.
Paetus Thrasea, xiv, 64.
Palamedes, xiv, ii, 41.
Palaimon, iii, 38.
~palamnai=os~, v, 178.
~paliggenesi/a~, 224; vii, 21; x, 47, 81, 84; 519; xiv, **i, 68, 142;
547.
Pan, ix, 56.
Panaitios, xiv, 24; 501 f.
Pandaemonism, 519.
Pandareos, daughters of, ii, 5.
Pantheism, 261, 498 f.; xiv, 60; 504.
Panchatantra, iv, 134.
Paradise, imaginary, in Hades, vii, 18.
~paramuthêtika\ psêphi/smata~, xiv, ii, 6.
Pardon for Homicide, v, 144, 151, 154.
Parentalia in Rome, v, 90.
Parmenides, 372; 408; 597.
Parsley used in cult of the dead, iv, 22; v, 40, 107.
Pasiphaë, iv, 104.
~pa/trai~, iv, 49; v, 131; in Rhodos, iv, 52.
Patroklos, Funeral of, 12 f.; Translation of, xiv, ii, 102.
~patromu/stês~, 602.
Pausanias, Spartan King, v, 173; Periegeta, 126; 529; (4, 32, 1)
554; Doctor (pupil of Empedokles), 378; xi, 61.
Pehuenchen Indians (S. America), i, 26.
Peirithoös, vii, 3.
Pelasgians, v, 18.
Peleus, Translation of, xiv, ii, 99.
Pellichos, xiv, ii, 45.
Pelops, 121; iv, 37.
Penates, v, 132-3.
Penitents undergoing punishment in Hades, 40 f., 238, 241; vii, 27.
Pentheus, 283.
~peri/deipnon~, 167.
~perika/tharma~, 589.
~perima/ttein~, 590.
Perjury punished in Hades, 41 f.; v, 156; 238; xi, 77; xii, 40.
Peripatetics, 512.
~peripsê=n~, 589.
Persephone, 158 f.; v, 5; 160 f.; 220; 222 f.; and see _Koré_.
Perseus and the Mainades, ix, 3.
Persian War, Heroizing of those who fell in, 131.
Persians, i, 5; 10; 22; v, 85-6; kathartic practice among, ix, 78.
Persinos of Miletos, x, **7.
Persius, i, 31; 504. {621}
Personality, reduplication of, 595 f.; cf. ~e/kstasis~.
Peru, religious dances in, viii, 55.
Pessimism, 412, 545.
Petelia, grave tablet from, 417 f., 601 f., 598.
Phaeacians, 63; ii, 17, 46.
Phaënnis, ix, 59.
Phaëthon, iii, 35.
Phanes, x, 9; 598.
Pharisees, xi, 50.
~pharmakoi/~, ix, 87; 589 f.
~pha/smata Hekatika/~, 590 f.
Pherekrates, comic poet, vii, 17.
Pherekydes, 301; x, 79; xi, 51; vi, 25; 597.
Philippos of Opos, author of _Epinomis_, xiv, 1.
Philiskos, xii, 157.
Philo Judaeus, xiv, ii, 117; (ap. Gal. xiii, 268), iii, 43.
Philodamos of Skarpheia, his Hymn to Dionysos, vi, 9.
Philolaos, x, 44; xi, 35-6, 50, 55.
Philopoimen, as Hero, xiv, ii, 49.
Philopregmon (Hero), 529.
Philosophy, 362 f.; 432 f.; 463 f.; 490 f.
Philostratos, _Heroikos_, xiv, ii, 41; _V. Apoll._, xiv, ii, 115.
~phimou=n, phimôtiko/n~, 604.
Phokion, v, 66.
Pseudo-Phokylides, xiv, ii, 117.
Phormion, of Sparta, ix, 111.
Phratriai in Athens, 124 f.
Phrygians, v, 167; 257; viii, 52; 286; xiv, ii, 13, 174.
Phylai in Athens, 124 f.
Pig, in cult of the dead, v, 105.
Pitch, kathartic property of, v, 95; ix, 72.
Piety of the Greeks, 28 f.
Piety towards the dead, 16, 164, 169.
Pindar, 7, 115, 157; vi, 22; 238; 412; 414 f.; (_O._ 2, 57), xii,
35; (_O._ 2, 61), xii, 38; (_P._ 8, 57), iv, 105; (_fr._ 129-30),
xii, 37; (_fr._ 132), xii, 45; (_fr._ 133), xii, 34, 41.
~pi/thos tetrême/nos~ in Hades, 586 f.
Pittakos of Mitylene, v, 54.
Pixodaros (Hero), xiv, ii, 63.
Plato, ix, 107; 383; xi, 96; 463 f.; xiv, ii, 108; 547; Beauty in
473; influence of, on popular belief, xiv, ii, 143; doctrine of
Ideas, 470 f.; different strata of the _Republic_, xiii, 8; 474;
_Laws_, xiii, 36, 37; 476; _Gorgias_, vii, 13; xiii, 36, 96; _Meno_,
xiii, 100; _Phaedo_, xiii, 36; 468 f.
Plants with souls, xi, 72, 82; 382; xi, 117; xiii, 40.
~hoi plei/ous~, the dead, xiv, ii, 124.
Plotinos, 547 f.
Plouton, iii, 34; 160.
~ploutô/nia~, v, 23.
Plutarch, v, 34; vi, 23; vii, 1; xiv, ii, 85, 87.
Pluto, iii, 34; 160.
~pneu=ma~ = soul, **xii, 150; 498; 541 f.
Podaleirios, iii, 13; 133.
~poinê/~ for homicide, in Homer, 175; forbidden, v, 154; and see
_Murder_.
Polemon, xiv, 1.
Polemokrates (Hero), iv, 93.
Politics, Epicurean withdrawal from, 506 f.
Pollution, 294 f.
~polua/ndrioi dai/mones~, 604.
Polyaratos, ix, 111.
Polybios, 492.
Polyboia, 100.
Polygnotos' picture of Hades, 241 f.; 586.
Polynesians, v, 161.
Pomegranate in the cult of the dead, v, 105.
Pomptilla, grave in Sardinia, xiv, ii, 71.
Poplar in the cult of the dead, v, 61; xiv, ii, 102.
Popular belief about the dead, 524.
Popular version of "Translation", xiv, ii, 105.
Poseidonios, x, 78; xi, 35, 55; xiv, 40, 44, 51, 53-4; 502; xiv,
60-2.
Possession, 255; 595; see ~e/kstasis~.
Possessions of the dead burnt with the body, i, 30, 51.
Postponement of coming events by the gods, ix, 120.
Poulytion, 222.
Praetextatus, xiv, ii, 172.
Praise of the dead at the ~peri/deipnon~, v, 81.
Pre-existence: see _Soul_.
Prophecy by Incubation (dream-oracles), 92 f., 289 f.; by Heroes,
133; in Thracian worship of Dionysos, 260; two kinds of (~technikê/~
and ~a/technos~), 289; by "inspiration", 289 f.; at Delphi, 289 f.;
in Greek {622} worship of D., 289 f.; wandering prophets, 292 f.; by
means of lots at Delphi, 289; in Leuke, xiv, ii, 102.
Prodikos of Keos, vi, 23; of Phokaia, vii, 3; of Samos, vii, 3; x,
7.
Proërosia, ix, 108.
Proitides, 282, 287.
Proklidai, iv, 53.
Prophecy: see _Mantiké_.
Prophetic power of the dying, i, 69.
~prospha/gion~, v, 46.
~prostro/paios~, v, 148, 176.
Protagoras, 438.
Protesilaos, iv, 98.
Proteus in the Odyssey, 55.
~pro/thesis~ of the corpse, 164 (v, 41 f.).
Proverbs, Greek, v, 120; xii, 3; 586.
Prussia, cult of the dead in, v, 99, 114.
~psuchê/~ in Homer, 4 f.; 30 f.; 364 f.; = alter ego, 6; in Pindar,
xii, 32; in Philosophy, 364 f.; situated in eye or mouth, i, 25; =
Life, i, 59; xi, 1.
~psuchagôgo/s~, ix, 106.
Psyche (of Apuleius), xiv, ii, 151.
Psychology, Homeric, 30 f.; of the philosophers, 364 f.
~psuchomantei=a~, v, 23.
~psuchpompei=a~, v, 23.
~psuchostasi/a~, v, 100.
Punishment of guilty through descendants, xii, 7, 65; xiv, ii, 96.
Purification: see _Kathartic_, ~ka/tharsis~; after a funeral, v, 77;
[after seeing a corpse: Jul., _Ep._ 77, p. 601, 20 f. H.]; carried
out by ~exêgêtai/~, v, 139; of murderers, 179 f.; 295; (this not
Homeric), v, 166; ritual, in daily life, 295; of the new-born, ib.;
by blood, 296; by fire, 21; by running water, 588 f.; removal of the
polluting substance with figs or eggs, 589 f.
"Pure, the," vi, 18; 343.
Purgation in Plato, xiii, 36.
Purple (Red) colour proper to the dead, v, 61.
Pythagoras, 374 f.; xii, 150; and Zalmoxis, viii, 68; and Abaris,
ix, 108, 122; his previous births, 598 f.; descent to Hades, 600 f.
Pythagoreans, suicide, v, 33; bury the body on leaves, v, 61; and
Orphics in Herodotos, 336; x, 8; in Athens, 337; psychology, xi, 55;
Transmigration-doctrine, x, 79, 81; xi, 42; xiii, 40; ~psuchê/~
(Alkmaion), xi, 28, 35; and Parmenides, xi, 30; Empedokles and P.
~ana/mnêsis~, xi, 96; ~U~ Pythag., xii, 62; and Plato (divisions of
the soul), xiii, 27; (transmigration of the soul), xiii, 40; and the
Stoics (souls in the air), xiv, 53.
Pythia, viii, 52-3; ix, 45; 289 f.; 596.
Pythian Games, iv, 22.
Python, 97; 180 f.
Quietism, 380.
Ram, in cult of the dead, v, 105, 107; as expiatory sacrifice, v,
167.
Rationalism among the Greeks, 29 f.; 122; 492; 545.
Rebirth (see ~paliggenesi/a~), xiv, ii, 174; 602.
Recurrence, periodical, of everything, x, 47; xiv, 68.
Red colour belonging to the dead, v, 61.
Reduplication of Personality, 595 f.
Regilla, wife of Herodes Atticus, xiv, ii, 71, 131.
Relatives obliged to prosecute vendetta, v, 141.
"Release" of man from fate, etc., 342 f.; xi, 50; 384.
Religion, Homeric, 28 f.; of "Nature" 223 f.; Symbolic, ib.
Relics, cult of, iv, 2; 121 f.; 529.
Responsibility, moral, in Tragedy (Aesch.), 423 f.
Resurrection of the body, xiv, ii, 174.
Revenge and Vendetta, circle of those expected to carry it out (in
Homer), v, 141; Vend. bought off (in Homer), v, 143; this later
forbidden, v, 154; Vend. in Tragedy, 424 f., 434.
Rewards and punishments transmitted to descendants, xii, 65 (x, 47);
exact equivalence, x, 71; xi, 44; in Hades, 40-1; 239 f.; 467 f.;
536.
Right and left, significance of, in Hades, xii, 62.
Rhadamanthys, 55 f.; ii, 17, 23; 247; xiv, ii, 132.
~rha/mnos~, kathartic uses of, v, 95; xi, 85.
Rhea: see _Kybele._
Rhesos, iv, 36; 557. {623}
Rock graves, v, 62, 66.
Rome, _genius_, i, 5; v, 132; marriage ceremonies, v, 95; Lares, v,
66, 132; Lemuria, v, 99; Manes, ib.; v, 133; Novemdialia, v, 83-4;
os resectum, i, 34; Parentalia, v, 90; Penates, v, 132-3; Cult of
Souls in, v, 114; Cremation, i, 37, 39.
Romans, admitted to Eleusinian Mysteries, 226.
Romulus, translation of, xiv, ii, 103, 107, 110.
Sabazios (Sabos), viii, 10.
~sa/bos, saba/zios~, viii, 32.
~Saba/zia~ in Athens, x, 12.
Sabazios Mysteries (late, xiv, ii, 174.
Sacrifice at graves, 167, 169; made to Heroes before gods, iii, 46;
kathartic, 585.
Salamis, 136 f.
Salmoneus, 581.
Samothrace, Mysteries of, vi, 34.
Sappho, xii, 12
Sarpedon, ii, 28; iv, 99.
Satrai, viii, 53.
Scapegoat, ix, 87.
Schelling, 223.
Scheriê, ii, 46.
Schol. Aristoph. _Vesp._ 1038, ix, 102.
Scythians, 259; ix, 15; x, 78.
Second sight, 260; 293 (see ~e/kstasis~).
Second-sight of the dying, i, 69.
Secret cults, 219.
Sects, Orphic, 335.
Seers, ecstatic: see ~ma/nteis~ and _Prophecy_.
Seirenes, ix, **102; 593.
~se/linon~ sacred to the dead, v, 40, 107.
~Se/lloi~, iii, 14.
Semele, 581.
Seminoles of Florida, i, 25.
Semitic influence on Greeks, 60; 96.
Semonides (Simonides of Amorgos), xii, 4, 8, 15.
Seneca, xiv, 41, 56, 68; 503.
Sertorius, his search for the Islands of the Blest, xiv, ii, 101.
Severus Alexander, xiv, ii, 112.
Servius ad. _Aen._ vi, 324 (Poeta Anon.), xi, 77.
Sex, changes of, in legend, iii, 3.
Shamans, viii, 43; 262.
Sheep (or Ram), v, 105, 107, 167.
Sibyls, viii, 52; 292 f.; 596.
Sicily, xii, 47; 417 f.
Sikyon (limitation on the length of epitaphs), xiv, ii, 118.
Silenus, legend of, xii, 10 (viii, 15, 31).
Silence in passing graves, v, 110.
Simonides of Keos, xii, 1, 3, 11.
Sin, 294 f., 343, 381, (Plato) 466; consciousness of, 242.
Sisyphos, i, 82; 241; vii, 27.
Sit tibi terra levis, xiv, ii, 120.
Sithon, iii, 3.
Sitting (not reclining) at feasts in honour of the dead, v, 86.
Skedasos, daughters of, xiv, ii, 35.
Skeletons, the dead as, xiv, ii, 92.
~ski/lla~, kathartic property of, ix, 115; xi, 85; 589 f.
Skiron, v, 168.
Skotos, vii, 6.
Skylla (daughter of Hekate), 593.
Slaves admitted to initiation at the Mysteries, vi, 14; when freed,
bound to keep up the cult of their dead master, v, 128.
Slavonic cult of souls, v, 161.
Sleep and Death, ii, 28; Death only Sleep, xiv, ii, 140; of the
Gods, iii, 30; "Temple-sleep": see _Incubation_.
Snakes, form in which ~chtho/nioi~ appear, iii, 12, 33; 98; iii, 55;
iv, 129; v, 105**, 113, 133, 168; 602.
Societies: see Associations.
Sokrates, 463.
Solon, date of archonship, ix, **120; as Hero, iv, 38; limits funeral
pomp, 4, 45, 57, 75; protects the memory of the dead, v, 115; his
view of life, xii, 6; and Croesus, xiv, ii, 170.
Sorcery: see _Magic_ and _Conjuration of the dead_.
Sortilege, oracle of at Delphi, 290.
Soul = breath (~pneu=ma~), 500 f.; xiv, ii, 138; represented on
lekythoi as winged, 170; Pre-existence of, taught by Pythagoras, xi,
49; by Plato, 465 f.; Aristotle, 495 f.; Stoics, xiv, 60; by Jews
under Greek influence, xiv, ii, 117; Soul and Mind, in Aristotle,
496; "Poor Souls," v, 114; x, 66; Souls **become daimones (Hesiod),
67 f.; transition from Soul to daimon, v, 133, 148; 179; v, 176;
assist growth of crops, v, 120; called upon {624} at marriages, v,
121; appearances after death, ix, 105; 533 f.; xiv, ii, 154;
dissipated by wind after leaving the body, xiii, 5; xi, 102; xiv,
49, 77; of murdered men, 181 f.; kingdom of Souls in the air, in the
Aether or in Heaven, 342; xi, 35; 436 f.; Stoic, 500 f.; 541 f.; cf.
_Hades_; in popular belief, xiv, ii, 142; in Neoplatonism, 547;
parts of the soul, acc. to Pythagoras, xi, 55; Plato, 466 f.;
Peripatetics, 512; Stoics, xiv, 60; Epicureans, 505; conjuration of
souls not known in Homer, 24; later, v, 23; ix, 106; xiv, ii, 87,
90; on Defixions, 594 f., 604 f.; Souls, Cult of, after burial, 22
f., 77 f., 158 f., 163 f., 166 f., 181 f., 253 f.; Rudiments of, in
Homer, 12 f.; in the family, 172 f.; represented on sepulchral
reliefs, v, 105; Souls, Festival of, 168; in cult of Dionysos, ix,
11; Soul, "Salvation" of the, 172.
Souls: Transmigration of Souls--Greek names for, x, 84; Thracian
belief in, 263 f.; Egyptian belief in, 346; Orphic, 337; 342 f.; 346
f.; Pythagorean, 375; xi, 50, 55; in Pindar, 415 f.; Empedokles, xi,
75, 96; Plato, 467; Stoics (Poseidonios?), xiv, 60.
~sô=ma--sê=ma~: Orphic, 342; x, 73; Pythagoras, 375; xi, 50;
Empedokles, xi, 75; Euripides, xii, 137; Plato, xiii, 44; in popular
belief, xiv, ii, 141.
_Somnium Scipionis_, xiv, 53, 54, 62; xiv, ii, 58.
Sophists, 432.
Sophokles, vi, 22, 26; 426 f.; as Hero, iv, 71; _Oed. Col._ 1583,
xii, 112.
~sôtê/r (hê/rôs)~, xii, 128.
Sparta; funeral of kings, iv, 46; burial customs, v, 61; reliefs
representing feasts of the dead, v, 105, 86; criminal law of, v,
145.
Speaking ill of the dead forbidden, v, 115.
Spell: see _Magic_.
Spencer, Herbert, 6.
Spielhansel, folk-tale of, i, 82.
Spiritualism, 264 f.; 385; 500; 595.
Spirits: see _Ghosts_.
Spirits, island of (Leuke), xiv, ii, 102; nocturnal battle of, xiv,
ii, 37; magical compulsion of, ix, 107.
Spitting, apotropaic effect of, 586.
Stars inhabited, xi, 116; by the souls of the departed, x, 75-6;
myths, 58.
State: see _Politics_; State Funerals, xiv, ii, 5-6.
Statues of Heroes, miracles performed by, 136.
~ste/phanos~, iv, 21.
Stertinius, C. Xenophon (Hero), xiv, ii, 64.
Stobaeus, _Ecl._ i, 49, 46; xiv, ii, 138.
Stoics, xi, 98; xii, 67; 497 f.; 542.
Stones (a soul attributed to), xi, 72.
Stormclouds, shooting at, viii, 63; cf. _Weather-magicians_.
Straton, xii, 150; xiv, 34.
Striking the ground in calling on ~chtho/nioi~, iii, 10.
Styx, vii, 21.
Subterranean translation among the Greeks, 89 f.; xiv, ii, 104; in
Germany, 93; in Mexico and in the East, iii, 17.
Sûfis of Persia, viii, 60; 266.
Suicide forbidden (Orphic), x, 44; suicides refused burial, v, 33.
Suidas on ~emaschali/sthê~, 582 f.
Sulphur, kathartic property of, v, 95.
Swoon (~piopsuchi/a~), i, 9.
Syrians, xiv, ii, 174.
Sybaris (Lamia), iv, 115; Orphic gold tablets from, 417 f.; 598; 601.
Symbolism in religion, 224, 226 f.
Symmachos, xiv, ii, 172.
Syncretism, 288; 534.
Syrianos, 596 f.
Syrie, 62 f.
Tacitus, xiv, 47.
Tahiti, funeral dirges of, v, 48.
Talthybios, 134.
Tantalos, 40 f., 241; vii, 27.
Tarantism, ix, 19.
Taraxippos (Hero), 127.
Tarentum, v, 68.
Tartaros, 76; vii, 6; 340; xi, 38.
Tasmania, cult of dead in, 585.
~Tau=ta, tosau=ta~ in epitaphs, xiv, ii, 167.
Teiresias, 36 f., 41; iii, 3, 8.
_Telegoneia_, 65, 90.
Teleology in Anaxagoras, xi, 104.
Tellos the Athenian, xiv, ii, 170.
Temesa, the Hero of, 135 f. {625}
Temple-sleep: see _Incubation._
Tenes, iv, 138.
Terizoi in Thrace, **viii, 65.
Thales, vi, 25; 366.
Thamyris, 238.
Thanatos, xii, 4, 121; and Hypnos, ii, 28.
Thargelia, ix, 87.
Theagenes (Hero), 136; iv, 119, 134.
_Thebais_, 75, 90, 93.
~thei=os anê/r~, xiii, 68.
Themistokles as Hero, iv, 30.
Theognetos (Orphic), x, **7; 597.
Theognis, 411 f.; xii, 13.
Theogony of Epimenides, ix, 123; of Hesiod, x, 5; Orphic, 339 f.;
596.
Theokrasia, x, 24.
Theology, Homeric, 25 f., 31 f.; of the court in Hellenistic period,
538 (see _Orphics_).
Theophanes (Hero), xiv, ii, 64.
Theophrastos, xiv, 34; Testament of, v, 137.
Theopompos, on Abaris, ix, 108; Aristeas, ix, 109; Bakis, ix, 66;
Epimenides, ix, 117; Hermotimos, ix, 112; Phormion, ix, 111.
~ho theo/s, hê thea/~ at Eleusis, v, 19.
Theosophy (Orphic), 336.
Theoxenia, 96; iv, 16, 71; festival at Delphi, iv, 82.
Theron, 416.
Theseus, transfer of his bones to Athens, 122; expiation of murder
of Skiron, v, 168; Descent to Hades, vii, 3.
Thesmophoria, 222.
~thi/asos~, Dionysiac, Thracian, viii, 31.
30,000 = innumerable, xi, 78.
~tho/loi~, iii, 31.
Thorn: see _White-thorn_.
Thracians, viii, 11; cult of Dionysos, 256 f.; belief in
immortality, 263 f.; in Transmigration, 263 f.; Ascetic practices,
x, 78.
Thrasea Paetus, xiv, 64.
~thro/non strônnu/nai~ for a god, iii, 26.
~thro/nôsis~ (of mystai), ix, 19.
Thunder clouds driven away by noise, etc., viii, 63.
~thu/ein~, iv, 15.
Thyme used in burial, v, 36.
~thumo/s~ and ~psuchê/~, i, 58; xi, 1.
Thyrsos, viii, 22.
Tii of Polynesia, v, 161.
Timokles of Syracuse, x, 7.
Timoleon as Hero, xiv, ii, 59.
Titans (Orphic), 340 f.; x, 77 (cf. p. 76).
Tithonos, 58.
Tityos, 40 f.
Tragedy, Greek, 421 f.
~Tra/leis~, Thracian tribe of mercenaries, viii, 77.
Tralles in Karia, criminal law of, v, 150.
_Translation_, in Homer, 55 f.; subterranean, 89 f.; in Pindar, 414;
in Euripides, xii, 127; Semitic, 60; xiv, ii, 109; German, 93;
Italian, xiv, ii, 110; Tr. to Islands of the Blest, xiv, ii, 99; to
the Nymphs, xiv, ii, 105; into a river, xiv, ii, 114; by lightning,
583; Tr. of Achilles, 64 f.; Alkmene, xiv, ii, 99; Althaimenes, iii,
4; Amphiaraos, 89 f.; Amphilochos, iii, 5; Antinous, xiv, ii, 114;
Apollonios of Tyana, xiv, ii, 116; Aristaios, iii, 6; Aristeas (?),
ix, 109; Berenike, etc., xiv, ii, 107; Diomedes, 67; xiv, ii, 99;
Emperors, xiv, ii, 107; Empedokles, xi, 61; Erechtheus, 98;
Euthymos, 136; Hamilcar, xiv, ii, 109; Helen, ii, 21; Herakleid.
Pont., xi, 61; Iphigeneia, ii, 26; Kleomedes, 129; Laodike, iii, 6;
Memnon, 64; Menelaos, 55; ii, 21; Oedipus, xii, 112; Phaethon, iii,
35; Rhadamanthys, ii, 17; Telegonos and Penelope, 65; Trophonios,
90; Tr. no longer understood in later ages, xiv, ii, 103; effected
mechanically, xiv, ii, 106.
Trausians, viii, 75.
Trees planted round graves, i, 28; v, 73; sacred to the
~chtho/nioi~, v, 61.
~Triaka/des~, v, 86 f.; xiv, ii, 17.
Trieteric festival of Dionysos, 258, 285.
Triopion, ancient Greek cult there, ix, 89.
Triphylians, v, 11.
Triptolemos, i, 41; 220; vi, 35; as Judge in Hades, vii, 14.
~tri/ta~ (sacrifice to the dead), v, 83.
~tritopa/tores~, v, 123 f.; x, 45.
Trophonios, 90 f., 101, 121, 159, 161; v, 133; viii, 68; xiv, ii,
104; _Zeus_ Troph., iii, 18.
Trojan Heroes, xiv, ii, 41.
Tronis in Phokis, iv, 34. {626}
Turning one's back on spirits: see _Avoiding_, etc.
Turnus, translation of, xiv, ii, 110.
~tumbôru/chos~, xiv, ii, 11.
Twelve **Tables influenced by Solon, v, 47.
Typhon, vii, 6.
Tyrtaios, xii, 13.
Underworld, pictures of on vases, vii, 27; Polygnotos' picture of,
241 f., 586 f.
Unknown gods, iv, 62; Heroes, 127.
Unlucky days, v, 158.
Utopia in Hades, vii, 18.
Vampyre, v, 161; xiv, ii, 86.
Vapour-baths used by Scythians and Indians to produce religious
intoxication, viii, 39.
Varro, i, 21, 34; iii, 31; vi, 23; ix, 111.
Vendetta: see _Revenge_.
Venus, conductress of souls, xiv, ii, 146.
Vergil, i, 37; vii, 6; xi, 50; xii, 62; 535.
Vibia, tomb of, xiv, ii, 144, 174.
Vine, cultivation of in Thrace, viii, 38; branches used in burial,
v, 37.
Virbius, legend of, iv, 38.
Visions, 30 f., 258 f. (and see ~e/kstasis~).
Visits of Gods to men, ii, 38 (iv, 134).
Voodoo, Negro sect in Haiti, viii, 55.
Wanderings: see _Migration_.
Water polluted by the neighbourhood of a corpse, v, 38; ix, 76;
flowing, kathartic properties of, 588 f.; cold water in the lower
world, xiv, ii, 151; of Life in folk-lore, ib.; speaking, ib.
Ways, Two, Three, in the lower world, xii, 62.
Weather-magicians, viii, 63; ix, 107.
Weregild, 175 f.; forbidden, v, 154.
Will, freedom of, 423 f.; 498 f.
Wind = Soul, xiii, 5; Spirits of, v, 124; Bride of, ii, 7.
Wine, belongs to later Dionysos, viii, 3.
Wisdom of Solomon, xiv, ii, 117.
White-thorn, v, 95.
Witches, etc. (see also _Hekate_), ix, 101.
Works of "supererogation" assist others, x, 66.
World, different Ages of, in Hesiod, 67 f.
World, withdrawal from, in later Greek life, 546 f.; enjoyment of,
in early period, **3, 63; xiv, ii, 170; hatred of, Christian-Gnostic,
xiv, ii, 179; periods of (Orphic), 342.
Wolf-shape, of spirits, iv, 114; 590.
Wool, kathartic properties of, 590.
~xenikoi\ theoi/~, x, 3.
Xenokrates, vi, 35; x, 39; xiv, 1.
Xenophanes, 371 f.; xi, 42; xii, 150; xiv, 53.
Xenophon C. Stertinius (Hero), xiv, ii, 64.
Yama, Indian god of the lower world, vii, 6.
Yogis of India, viii, 43.
Zagreus, 340 f.; viii, 28; x, 9, 12, 77; 598.
Zaleukos, v, 145.
Zalmoxis, iii, 13; viii, 10, 28; 263.
Zeno (Eleatic), 372 f.
Zeno (Stoic), xiv, 43.
Zeus in Crete, 97 f., 161; ix, 56; and Alkmene, iv, 134; as
conductor of Souls, xiv, ii, 146.
~Zeu\s Amphia/raos~, iii, 19; ~chtho/nios~, 159; v, 167; 220;
~Eubouleu/s, Bouleu/s~, v, 7, 19; ~Lu/kaios~, v, 170; ~meili/chios~,
v, 168; ~prostro/paios~, v, 148; ~phi/lios~, ii, 38; ~Saba/zios~,
viii, 10; ~Trophô/nios~, iii, 18.]
Zopyros, x, 7, 11.
Zoroastrianism, 302.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes
Page numbers are written in {}, {{}} when not printed in the text
but referred to in the Table of Contents, etc.
Footnote markers and footnotes are numbered [m\n] where m is the
number of the footnote, n is the number of the chapter (chapter 14
Part 2 is here numbered 15).
Transcribed Greek text is placed within ~~. Accents are marked / for
acute, \ for grave, = for circumflex; | indicates iota subscript.
Rough breathings are written h; smooth breathings are omitted. A few
Greek words use digamma, transcribed w.
Deliberate changes from the text of the English translation are
marked by ** and listed below. Most changes in foreign language
quotations are based on comparison with the original German version
and, where possible, other online versions such as at the Perseus
Project. This transcription indicates emphasis in Greek and Latin
texts by the sign for italics _ _; in general the English translation
did not mark them.
Location Original text Emendation in this version
Trans. note Gp. _Gp._
Reinisches Rheinisches
ch 1 n. 1 omitted ) at end of sentence
n. 16 pota/mô| potamô=|
n. 30 Langlés Langlès
ch 2 p. 62 conquerers conquerors
p. 65 Telegonos Telemachos
p. 66 immortality mortality
n. 6 aphipolô=n amphipolô=n
ch 3 p. 88 naivity naivety
p. 93 the word 'cult' was put at the beginning of a line
instead of at the end
p. 94 soares soars
n. 2 Thêbê|si Thê/bê|si
ch 4 n. 4 Plataï/da Plataiï/da
n. 22 FHG. _FHG._
n. 38 26, p. 70 16, p. 170
n. 62 Heröon Heroön
n. 93 Heröon Heroön
n. 135 omits second tê=|si
ch 5 p. 163 witholder withholder
p. 164 forebade forbade
p. 166 con-considered considered
n. 7 Eiboulos Euboulos
n. 23 katagei=on kata/geion
n. 37 Friedrich Fredrich
n. 47 eiusdem eisdem
n. 58 Char. is not in italics
n. 67 565 465
n. 74 ga/nos . . . . . . ga/nos
n. 81 The Greek text le/gein epide/xia epi\
tethnêko/ti was omitted in the English translation
n. 83 quam qua
n. 95 toi=s tai=s
n. 103 Bendorf Benndorf
n. 116/120 488 485
n. 133 oiki/ôn oikiô=n
n. 143 poinê\n is omitted
n. 145 katakanô/n katakanô\n
n. 146 anepsiô/n anepsiadô/n (v. n. 10\15)
n. 174 Lex. _Lex._
n. 178 tou=to is omitted
ch 6 n. 20 apedei/knue epedei/knue
n. 24 muthologei=to muthologei=tai
ch 7 n. 12 sorbitionis sorbitione
n. 25 : (
ch 8 p. 266 ecstacy ecstasy
n. 10 d. griech. d. Gesch. d. griech.
n. 27 pêda= pêda=|
n. 28 perserved preserved
n. 35 archibucolos archibucolus
n. 68 poverty-striken poverty-stricken
n. 70 to/de ta/de
n. 76 eudaimoni/a| eudaimoni/ê|
n. 77 tê=n tê\n
ch 9 p. 285 solemized solemnized
p. 287 multitide multitude 1
n. 26 asphaltos a/sphaltos
n. 46 concitebat concitabat
n. 47 autou= auto\
n. 54 eschu/ei ischu/ei
n. 58 Puthi/as Puthia/s
n. 68 401-819 401, 819
n. 109 ecstacy ecstasy
ch 10 n. 3 collegiun collegium
n. 45 holou= ho/lou
n. 47 apoka/tasis apokata/stasis.
n. 80 Erlaüt. Erläut.
ch 11 p. 361 Erlaüt. Erläut.
p. 387 Where-ever Wherever
n. 1 ) omitted after 896
n. 19 9, v, v, 9,
n. 36 presented prevented
n. 99 regraded regarded
n. 119 Opusc. _Opusc._
ch 12 p. 416 subserviance subservience
p. 423 envelopes envelops
p. 424 Choephorai Choephoroi
n. 88 hosê/ ho/sê
ch 13 n. 33 orginally originally
n. 50 energe/tis euerge/tis
ch 14 p. 503 stubborness stubbornness
n. 1 emanicipation emancipation
n. 47 A A-C
zô/ôn zô/|ô
n. 53 callocant collocant
n. 59 distruction destruction
ch 15 p. 544 unadultered unadulterated
n. 96 descendents descendants
n. 116 anthrô/pou anthrô/pôn
thaumazome/nou thaumazome/no
n. 174 genetives genitives
app 2 p. 584 Troï/lô| Trôï/lô|
p. 585 me/rous me/lous
app 3 p. 588 a/muêtoi amu/êtai
app 5 p. 589 576-9 567-9
of or
app 6 p. 591 devils devil's
app 7 p. 594 336 236
app 10 p. 598 Emphorbos Euphorbos
p. 599 ~ensômatô/seis~ ~ensômatô/sis~
index Aeneas 4 3
Agrianios Boiotia Boeotia
apoma/ttein 586 589
apo/taphoi v, 88, 158 xiv, ii, 20
a/taphoi 148 147
Death 1 3
Elijah i ii
Euadne 581 582
Fear xiv, xiv, ii,
Gods ii i
Goethe 13 64
Hades 21 22
hallucinations 362 262
hedonism 1 3
Hegesias 1 3
Hydromantic Hydromantia
Kaiadas ii v
Kyffhaüser Kyffhäuser
loutropho/rsi loutropho/roi
Lucian xi ix
megara 3 7
Minyas viii vii
Moon 52 53
motes ix xi
neme/seia iv v
Origen 80 20
paliggenesi/a ii i
Persinos 8 7
pneu=ma xi xii
sereines 100 102
snakes ; ,
Solon 20 120
soul becomes become
Terizoi ix vii
Theognetos 8 7
Twelve Tabes Tables
World 1 3
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